Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
My heartbeat kicks up as I suddenly realize my miscalculation.
I got cocky.
Taunting a monster like this is dangerous.
If it were an immediate hit, he would’ve already been dead.
But this… the closer I get, as per instructed by the client, the more lethal the job becomes to me.
This guy’s a fucking nutjob. The man crumples to the floor, and Eli lets him slip from his hold as if he’s less than trash.
He looks down at the gun he’s now holding, seeming underwhelmed, and then his gaze lands back on me.
Every instinct tells me to run.
Every reflex tells me to make sure I’m the only monster left standing.
Silence fills the room, and I remember my part to play as I look down at the man on the floor between us. I can faintly see he is still breathing, but instead, I innocently ask, “Is he dead?”
“No. But he’ll remember this in the morning. You know how it is, an uncle of someone’s who I don’t want to piss off by accidentally killing him,” he says matter-of-factly. But I know he doesn’t care about things like that. If Eli wants to kill without reason, he does. Which means he’s testing me.
I purposefully avert my gaze, trying to look as innocent as possible. “I-I don’t m-much like violence. I should pr-probably leave,” I stutter intentionally.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving me a note with a kiss first?” Eli arches an eyebrow that has a scar, splitting it in half. As he speaks, he releases the magazine from the gun and tosses it aside. I realize he knows who I am, but he’s toying with me and pretending to be unarmed. “You’re not even going to try and deny it? I must confess, the stutter was a nice touch.”
Fuck, he knows exactly who I am. I could deny it all I like, but it’s not going to get me anywhere with a man like this.
So, instead, I let the innocent act slip, not particularly being fond of it.
“It’s just business. Nothing personal,” I say as I carefully weigh my options. Then again, I’ve always acted on impulse. My only saving grace, I remind myself, is that I still have a mask on. “How did you know it was me?”
“Simply by the fact that you were ballsy enough to walk in here. Your height, the color of your hair…” He takes a step forward. “The way you hold yourself.” He takes another step, and I take one back, considering grabbing the knife at my thigh. “But where you really fucked up was thinking you could hide your presence when you shine like a fucking beacon even in the darkness.”
My heart stops at that.
The realization that I’m cornered.
I don’t do well being cornered.
“Shouldn’t you be whispering such sweet nothings to Michelle?”
“Michelle’s not trying to kill me,” he replies, angling his arm above my head and pushing me against the wall—a luxury I allow him. My greatest skill is catching people by surprise, but I know well and truly he could suffocate me with one hand.
“She will no doubt kill you one day with all her flowery sweetness, I’m sure,” I taunt with a smile.
His gaze bores into me as he hunches over, his elbow casually above my head. “Whose order are you here under, and what do they want?” he demands.
I casually shrug, not breaking eye contact. “I don’t know. I just sign the dotted line for a paycheck. Please don’t think you’re that important that I care as to why someone wants you dead.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “A lot of people want me dead.”
“Most likely because of your intolerable personality. But who am I to judge?”
“You’ll be coming home with me tonight.” The moment his hand goes for my throat, I grab the knife from my garter and slice at his torso. His reflexes are fast enough that I cut through his shirt and just barely scratch his skin. I can make out the glisten of blood through the cut in the fabric. He looks down curiously and then back up at me with a smirk.
“Unfortunately for you, knives are my favorite playthings.”
I lunge for the door, but with lightning speed, he pulls out his own knife and throws it. The knife embeds itself in the wall beside the door I was about to escape through, and I come to a screeching halt.
Adrenaline pumps through me as I throw my knife into his left leg. He clutches his thigh above the wound, cursing viciously, and barely keeps himself upright. I curve a wicked smile, satisfied with my aim.
I’m startled when one of his men, Hawke, busts into the room with a blonde, his lips on hers as he hurriedly begins to undo his belt. He tears his attention away from the woman, belatedly realizing he’s stumbled into something. Their entrance awkwardly breaks the lethal tension as I slip through the door behind him.