Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Gwen,” he replies and does so a bit too quickly. “She’s one of the techs on my team.”
“Of course, she did,” I say. “Right after you called her and asked her about it.”
His eyes go wide. “Are you suggesting I knew the condition of the crime scene before I called her?”
I study him a long, few beats, allowing my lack of an answer to be an answer before I say, “Text me the address.”
“I already did,” he replies. “Like I said, you weren’t responding.”
I snatch my phone from my purse, and glance at my messages. Sure enough, both he and Rollins have been texting me. Not just texting me but doing so with such excess it’s like they’re teenagers with a bad crush, and not enough social skills to pick up the phone and actually talk. “I got it,” I confirm, and when I would climb inside the SUV, he calls out, “Can I ride with you?”
I glance at Kane and then at Jack. “That doesn’t end well for you.” I half turn again and then eye him. “And either you had the tuxedo on because you knew this crime scene would be discovered tonight or you took the time to put it on when you should have been on your way to do your job. Neither looks good for you, Jack.” With that, I climb inside the SUV and Kane follows, shutting Jack Cox outside.
And not for the first time, I decide that Jack’s a creepy little dude who might just have a little Jack the Ripper in him. Charming and handsome, but potentially a trickster, with a deadly side. On the other hand, there is Andrew, who is fighting his own inner demons, which might be a connection to me. I don’t believe he has “killer” in him. And isn’t that the definition of the most dangerous man alive, the one who doesn’t seem dangerous at all?
He’s not this killer.
But I wonder if he’s a killer.
Not that I think I’m a killer but contrary to that thought, I also don’t think I’m not a killer, either.
Chapter Six
Our SUV pulls down the alley with Kit behind the wheel and Jay in the passenger seat, while me and Kane complete the backseat. In an attempt to shift my mind to the crime scene waiting on me, I call out the address I’ve been sent by Rollins and Jack. Ironically, considering how much my father and I have avoided each other as of late, I’m certain he will not approve of our departure. Of course, his approval is about as important to me as a pit in a cherry. We’re like diamond rings on his fingers—showy and bought and paid for with what he thinks is oil money in Kane’s pocket. In truth, to us, it’s all about our control over the Society, not his. We’re also the only reason he’s alive, which is generous on our part, considering he was willing to let the Society rape and kill me.
I could leave him to die and while the idea is not wholly unappealing, I curse and call out, “Wait!” to Kit.
He glances in the mirror at Kane, who holds up his hand. Only then does Kit brake. “Why didn’t you just hand him your balls when you were looking at him? I could put on some romantic music. “
Kit scowls and I ignore him, while Kane smirks. I amuse him. Sometimes that’s okay. Sometimes, not so much. “We just saw how sucky my father’s security team is and you seem to think there’s more at play tonight,” I explain. “If that’s true, he’ll end up dead and the only acceptable person who gets to kill him is me.”
“I can’t fix his security holes tonight,” Kane replies, “but aside from Andrew remaining behind with him, I left him several of my men, including Enrique and Gabriel. Gabriel has taken a shooter’s position on the wall above where your father will exit.”
Enrique is the man who stopped me from killing Pocher to keep me out of jail. He’s loyal to Kane, maybe to me as well, but since Kit can’t even stop the car without Kane’s approval, I’m not counting on that. Gabriel, on the other hand, is fresh out of the Army, and the kind of green I’d call slime green. It gets messy and all over everyone it touches. As for my brother, he’s unsettled and not himself. He also still believes Dad was behind Mom’s murder, He doesn’t know if Murphy might be the twist to that story. But if he flips and kills Dad, I can live with it being by his hand.
My phone buzzes with a text and I dig it from my purse and find one of about a dozen messages from Rollins. This one reads: Put on your big girl pants and get the hell over here.