Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
"Junior's all grown up," Lola said as Romero and Jackson got in the front seat. It was bumper-to-bumper traffic around the Binghamton campus, but Jackson set their lights flashing and drove on the shoulder. "How unexpected. Rumor has it you're some sort of rising star? It is a strange world we live in, but you won't have to worry about it much longer."
Romero half-turned in the passenger seat and looked through the grate. "You tell them?"
"Do I look stupid to you?" Neil asked. "Of course I didn't."
Lola pressed her thumbnail to the tattoo on his cheek. "But at least one of them knows, hmm? You're not the only branded one."
"Kevin remembers me, but he's the Ravens' pet. He knows better than to say anything."
"I hope that is the truth," Lola said. "You know what we will do to them if you are lying."
"I've spent eight months with a camera in my face. If I'd told someone, you would have heard about it by now. You wouldn't have needed this to track me down." Neil gestured at his face. "Did you give Riko a finder's fee?"
Romero snorted in disdain. "We gave his uncle a courtesy call that we were taking you."
That easy dismissal only made Neil feel worse. He had a sinking suspicion Riko hadn't been behind the bloody birthday surprise or the countdown after all. Lola said Nathan's parole hearing had been that same day. His circle knew he'd get out. Now Neil wondered if their presence was what had Riko keeping his distance from the Foxes this spring. Did Tetsuji warn Riko not to draw attention to himself while Nathan's men were on the prowl? Tetsuji and Riko were Moriyamas, but they were not the family the Wesninskis served and protected.
Lola grinned. "He was pretty pissed, but what could he do about it? Kengo couldn't give two shits about you right now."
"Because he's sick," Neil said, not quite a question.
"Sick, he says," Lola said, and thumped the side of her fist on the grate to make sure her brother had heard that. "'Sick' is a cold or an STD, child. This isn't 'sick'; this is the end of the road. His kidneys are failing. I give it a week tops before Ichirou's crowned new high king. I'll pass on your condolences and congratulations. You won't be alive to deliver them yourself.
"Speaking of which, it's tradition for me to tell a man what I plan on doing with his pieces," Lola said, and she proceeded to tell him in great detail how she was going to take his corpse apart.
Neil tried not to listen, but he couldn't tune out her cruel words. He put every ounce of strength he had left into keeping his fear from showing on his face. He couldn't keep his hands still, but he could at least hide them in his pockets. He didn't want her to know she was getting to him. It wasn't like a brave front would save him, but they'd been waiting for this moment for nine years. The least Neil could do was rob them of as much satisfaction as possible.
It was only a couple miles to I-81, and the car they'd acquired for this job let them hit the interstate at ninety miles an hour. Jackson cut the police lights on and off depending on whether or not cars were in his way. Even at such speeds it was almost three hours from Binghamton University to Baltimore.
Two miles into Maryland they pulled off to the shoulder behind an abandoned car. Jackson stayed with the patrol car, but Romero and Lola walked Neil to the Cadillac. Neil was pushed into the passenger seat. Romero put his gun in Neil's face before Neil could even think of making a break for it. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be delivered to Nathan alive, but Neil's mother had taught Neil how many places one could shoot a man without killing him. Neil watched Lola cuff his ankles to the seat's rails and barely refrained from kneeing her in the face.
Lola climbed into the backseat behind him and pulled Neil's arms around back of his chair. She cuffed his hands together and clicked them as tight as she could. As soon as she closed her door Romero got them on the road again. Neil kicked his legs a bit, testing his range of movement, but was quickly distracted by the press of sharp, cold metal against his fingertips.
Neil reflexively tried to clench his hands into fists. Lola laughed and dug a thumb into the pressure point of his wrist. When his fingers loosened she slid her blade between his fingers and palm. The scrape of the edge against his fingers was encouragement to open his hand again. Lola tapped the tip to the webbing between her fingers, hard enough to be a threat but not quite hard enough to break the skin. She got bored of the teasing before long and cut a shallow line along the base of his fingers.
Neil tugged hard at the cuffs, trying to yank his hands out of her reach, but there was no give in the metal. For a blinding moment it reminded him of Christmas break at Evermore, and Neil's wavering control cracked a little further. "Stop it."
"Stop me," Lola returned, and cut a stinging line down from the base of his finger to the thick flesh of his thumb. She covered his hand with burning lacerations before moving on to the next one. When she was done she slid over and leaned between the front seats. She traced Neil's tattoo with the tip of her blade. "We read all about your feud with Riko. What a convincing act! In another life you could have been an actor. Tell me, did you really think his collar would protect you from us?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does. I can't take you before your father with such a stain on your face. Rome?"
Romero reached for the dashboard. Something clicked as he pressed it, and Neil scanned the array of buttons for a hint of what he'd done. It wasn't the radio, and none of the lights were on to indicate he'd clicked on the heater. That left only one possible solution, but Neil refused to believe it. Denial didn't change facts: soon enough the dashboard cigarette lighter popped free of its lock with a metallic cling. Romero pulled it out and held it up.