Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Valentina isn’t an option. Adam might’ve let our meeting slip to someone inside of his organization, but he hasn’t said anything about that.
I keep coming back to Laura. She’s my closest link to the Biancos—but it’s not like I told her anything. It’s possible she’s some kind of hacking savant and has been reverse-spying on me this whole time, but I really doubt it. Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t think it was her—and I really don’t want it to be.
I think Laura is exactly what she appears to be: beautiful, gifted, and tortured.
Which means there’s a loose end I need to tie up.
Chapter 16
Laura
Ithrow myself into my work. Five days pass excruciatingly slow, and I start to worry about the whole car thing until a BMW gets parked out front of my house. Simon himself tosses me the keys. “Enjoy,” he says. “And I hope you renewed your license.”
“As if that matters. I’m a Bianco, remember?”
He snorts and walks off. I stare at my new car and think about all the implications. I can go anywhere I want, anytime I want, but there’s only one place I want to be. I check my watch and pull out my phone, and there’s a message from Jackal with an address out in the suburbs, about a half-hour drive. I confirm that I got it, and that I’ll be there at midnight.
I spend the next few hours working, but I can’t concentrate. Instead, I shower and fuss over my clothes. I barely recognize myself as I lay out a bunch of different options on the bed, trying on each one and looking in the mirror to see if it’s cute or not. I haven’t cared about my appearance in a really long time.
But I want Jackal to like me. I want him to want me. Which is how I eventually end up in a short gray skirt, no tights underneath, and a quarter-sleeve black top. I skip the bra and go with a pair of sneakers, just in case. I’m nervous as hell when I get into the car at eleven-thirty, and I keep wondering if anyone’s going to stop me on the way out, but the guards only give me a look and wave me past.
Out into the city. I can’t remember the last time I was behind the wheel. I got my license when I was younger, right after the incident, mostly because my therapist at the time said it would be good for me. Luckily, the drive isn’t bad and the BMW has navigation. I pull up into a gravel parking lot outside of what is clearly an abandoned warehouse.
I park and stare. This can’t be right. I check the GPS, and yes, I’m at the correct spot, and it’s the address Jackal sent—but why would he bring me to a place like this? The roof is metal and the windows are boarded over, and the majority of the wall space is covered in graffiti. Weeds grow in patches and a wooded area juts up against the far side of the structure.
My phone buzzes. I stare at it for a moment before picking it up.
Jackal: Come inside.
Jackal: There’s a red door straight ahead. It’s unlocked.
Laura: A normal, sane girl would turn around and get out of here.
Jackal: Lucky for us, you’re neither. Come find me, little demon.
I stare at his messages before checking myself in the mirror. Only a little bit of makeup—I don’t really know how to go all out—and my hair’s down in waves. I have no idea if I look good or not, and hell, it doesn’t matter.
“You’re doing this,” I whisper to myself.
I get out of the car, heart shuddering in my chest.
This isn’t Cage. At least when we met there on the roof, I had a sense of familiarity. It was my brother’s club and I know the place relatively well.
But this is Jackal’s turf.
My feet crunch as I spot the door and head toward it. My hands are damp when I pull the handle, and the smell of must and mold hits me as I step into a narrow hallway. I pause, letting my eyes adjust, and realize there’s a light source up ahead, through another interior doorway.
I head to it. This is crazy. I should be terrified, but instead I’m weirdly excited. This warehouse clearly hasn’t been used in a really long time, and there’s evidence that people have broken in over the years. Broken glass and scraps of trash litter the ground.
The doorway opens into a huge, high-ceilinged storage area. Pillars disappear into the darkness above. The ground is concrete and swept clean, though there are still small piles of trash. A ring of concrete blocks surrounds what looks like the leftovers of a fire. And up ahead, in the middle of the huge area, is Jackal.