Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“He didn’t lose his mind. Just got bored.”
Bartholomew laughed into his glass then fell into a chair. Right away, one of the girls came up behind him and started to rub his shoulders. “If you’re bored, you ain’t doing it right.”
I took the other seat. “I’m out, Bartholomew.”
“You’re not out until I say you’re out.”
“Too bad—I’m done.”
Once he realized I was serious, he swatted the woman away and leaned forward. His glass was set aside, and he fixed his sharp stare on my face.
“We either kill Forneus and I stay—or I take my family elsewhere.”
All he did was give a subtle shake of his head.
“I’m not going to live my life with a freak lurking in the shadows behind me—not when I can’t put a bullet between his eyes. Canada sounds like the right place for us to start over. It’s far enough away that he’ll have to decide which is more important—his obsession or his business.”
“Based on the actions of you, Fender, and Forneus, I suspect he’ll choose the woman—like an idiot.”
“If he comes for us, then I will kill him.”
He shook his head. “I don’t approve of this—”
“I don’t need you to. I appreciate what you did for my daughter—”
He was on his feet. “If it weren’t for me, your daughter would be a sack of bones right now. She would have died from the acid or from the knife to her back—”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” I was on my feet too, ready to slam my fist into his face and knock his lights out. The calm turned into rage, just the way a simmer turned into an inferno with just a sprinkle of gas. It ignited—and then burned white-hot.
“You had the audacity to come back here after what you did—and I still helped you.”
“I’m forever grateful—”
“Then fucking show it.”
“Let’s kill the freak, and I will. It’s him or me, Bartholomew. You can’t have both. You can’t expect me to leave my family every night, knowing he’s out there looking for another loophole to exploit.”
He grabbed his glass, finished the contents, and then smashed it on the floor. “I already told you the answer is no.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
He took a few steps before he turned back to me, his arms tense by his sides. His gaze was so hot it could weld metal. “You’re not going anywhere. I own you, asshole. Fucking own you.”
Something hit me in that moment. Must have been what he said…or the way he said it. An epiphany of some kind. Instead of walking into every meeting as an equal, I was kept in the dark. I had to learn everything on the go. Carlyle’s words came back to me. “He’s not someone you can trust—and you better not trust him either.”
Bartholomew stared me down, breathing heavily, like he wanted to rip my face off.
When we’d left Kline’s place, we’d had a conversation in the back seat. That came back to me too. “I’m back on the books. He wants nothing to do with you.”
His stare remained steady, as if he wasn’t the least bit surprised. “Problem solved.”
“Was that your plan all along?”
“You know me…I don’t make plans.”
“A heads-up would have been nice.”
“But that made the conversation spontaneous. Organic. Real. And that’s exactly what I wanted.”
It all hit me at once, like the ceiling of an old building finally tumbling down. It hit me everywhere—but I remained steady on my feet. I took one step. Then another. And then another.
His body pivoted toward me, as if he could sense the change in the air, the invisible tension that suffocated us both.
“I know why you won’t move against Forneus.”
“I already told you why—”
“Because that wasn’t part of the deal.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You needed me back to fix your mistakes, just like old times. But there was only one way to do that.” I came closer.
He didn’t move back, his arms tightening, his eyes focusing.
“There was only one way to get me back.” I stopped just a foot away from him, our seething eyes locked on each other. “Claire.”
Now he stepped back.
And that was when I knew. “Motherfucker.” The hilt of the knife was in my hand one instant and then deep in his flesh the next.
He knew it was coming, but he let it happen. He gave a quiet wince when the knife was fully in his stomach.
I held on to the hilt—and twisted.
He refused to grimace, took it like a man.
I left it there, listened to the drops of blood drip to the tile floor. A stampede of heels sounded behind us as the girls hurried out of the room before the battle escalated.
He breathed a little harder but didn’t remove the knife. “I deserved that.”
I pulled out my gun and cocked it.
“But I don’t deserve this.”
“I think you do.” I pressed the gun right between his eyes.