Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I was pretty sure I needed to be able to keep a dog alive and happy for a few years before I could even consider a child.
Somehow, though, the fact that there was time to think, to explore things with Anthony, to plan a future, made the whole prospect of marriage and children a lot less scary.
I parked the SUV behind the warehouse, and made my way around the building to the front door, hearing Fury’s protective barking through the thick walls before she heard the beep of the keys, knowing that meant it was me there to see her.
“You’re a smart girl,” I greeted her, rubbing her big head as her tail wiggled wildly side to side.
She darted away from me, grabbing her gutted lamb, and bringing it to me to throw. Once, twice, three times before I reached for the leash, and she rushed over and sat to let me hook it on her collar.
“Ready for a walk?” I asked, reaching for her little travel water bottle/bowl combo. “I think we should make it a long one. I need to clear my head,” I told her, and she looked up at me with apt eyes as if she was listening.
“What do you think of Anthony, girl?” I asked her as we moved out of the front door.
She sniffed at the air, likely smelling the tacos from the cart down the block, completely ignoring me and my dilemma.
We both seemed content to walk almost endlessly, stopping only when she had to do her business or get a drink of water.
Eventually, I had to take her back to the warehouse for dinner. Afterward, I sat on her giant bed with her, giving her scratches as she dreamt happily, her little legs running, her jowls lifting, her tail waggling.
I snuck back out, heading toward the studio for a bit to take a shower, wanting to wash away the ick I still felt like was clinging to me after walking through the house of horrors on Staten Island.
I’d like to say I didn’t check the time and my phone constantly, wondering if Anthony would reach out, or if he was on his way home. Even if, objectively, I knew it would take hours to clean up the house. And that was if they didn’t take any breaks to rest or eat. I probably wasn’t going to see Anthony until late.
I tried to distract myself with watching the row house, jotting down notes, and taking pictures of anyone I saw, though it was really only the guy who stepped outside to smoke and the one who went out to get food that ever seemed to go anywhere.
What the hell were they doing in there?
What were they plotting?
How could they live with themselves after brutally murdering men they used to work alongside? Then cutting up their bodies in the tub with a fucking bone saw?
Each time that asshole moved outside with his cigarette, I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d been involved with the murders and disposal of the bodies. And who his next target might be.
It wouldn’t be long, I was sure, before someone made a trip back to Staten Island to further torture Matej. Unless they were just going to let him dehydrate to death now.
Why had they let him live?
When he was the biggest threat to them? The only one who knew who they were and what they’d done?
Did they want something from him?
In my experience, men usually only got that feral over a few things. A bruised ego, a woman, or money.
Out of the three, the third seemed the most likely. Though the first probably had a lot to do with it as well.
If Jan wanted to take over, it made sense to take out the whole original crew. But also to want the stash of money that Matej, as a crime lord, would have stored away somewhere.
Clearly, these guys were wanting for cash.
Stealing from me.
Squatting in a house.
Jan wouldn’t be able to keep the loyalty of those men for long if he couldn’t provide for them, entice them into doing whatever he needed done.
But they hadn’t sold the guns yet.
Which made me think the guns weren’t about taking over the arms trade in the area and more about protection and intimidation as Jan carried out the next stages of his plan.
Whatever the hell that was.
“Ugh,” I grumbled, dropping down on the uncomfortable couch, staring up at a crack along the ceiling, wondering if it was too early to go see Fury and take her for her last walk of the night yet.
Deciding it was better than doing a whole lot of nothing at the studio but try to interrupt thoughts about Anthony with ones about the fuckers who stole from me and murdered a bunch of people, I grabbed the key and made my way back to Spanish Harlem.