Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
There’s the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and what sounds like vomit before Eagle-eye and the rest come out of the cell. Emily and Miriam are waiting in the courtyard. We share what little information about Hawthorne we got out of Deuce.
“Blue Lake,” says Emily.
Miriam nods. “It makes sense. He got it in the divorce. I always hated that place because he loved it so much.”
“Do we go?” Tank eyes me, standing tensely. I understand. It’s better to do something than nothing. But what if it's the wrong something?
Nitro nods. “We can’t sit around waiting. That fucker's been setting us up against the Giordanos, hoping we'd all just take each other out. Much as I hate to say it, Kaylee’s just caught in the crossfire.”
“Fuck, you don't think…” I trail off, not even wanting to fucking say it. But if she's not important to them anymore, has he killed her?
“I don't think so.” Nitro looks hopeful, and I worry that he's letting that guide his thoughts, but if there's anyone on the team who's good at reasoning, it's him. “They thought they could use her once to set us up, but if he took her, he has to know she’s important to us. That should buy her some time.”
Eagle-eye grunts. “Miriam, get us directions for the house. Wraith, Tank and Nitro, we’re going to check it out. I trust you guys to make the right call. We need to regroup here and get the club ready for what might come next, but if there’s a chance at Hawthorne, I’m going to fucking be there. King, you’ll be in charge here.”
“What?” King looks at him like he's crazy. “No. You got your old lady and daughter here. You stay. I'll bring the boys and assist.”
“No fucking way. This isn’t just politics. This is personal. Besides, your old lady is Miriam’s girl. She’s like a daughter to me.”
King snorts. “Should I start calling you daddy?”
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, that'd be too fucking weird. I said like a daughter. One is enough.” He shakes his head.
Miriam goes white as a ghost. Emily reaches over and grabs her mother’s hand.
Eagle-eye catches it right away. “What’s wrong?”
Miriam shakes her head. “It’s nothing, I just—”
“Fucking tell me, woman.”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Mom’s pregnant.”
34
KAYLEE
The door slams behind me, and it feels like that's the last time I'm going to see daylight, because I’m never going to cooperate. I owe my men and the Screaming Eagles that much. And I don't think Harris will take no for an answer. It’s a pretty bleak truth to acknowledge.
But for the moment, I'm alive, and as long as I'm alive, I’ll do my best to keep it that way. I just have to play docile and wait for an opportunity.
Just.
At least they've taken off the ropes. I'm still rubbing my wrists as I look around. The inside of the mansion is at least as luxurious as Alessa's apartment was. I have to pinch my lips tight a moment as a flash of Tank, Wraith, Nitro and me laughing and playing truth or dare passes through my brain.
It’s only been hours. It feels like years.
The first room they bring me through is a large sitting room, a full two stories tall with a cathedral ceiling and huge windows overlooking the lake. Thick wool rugs cover the floors, dampening my footsteps. The couches look designer, the coffee table looks designer, the massive open fireplace looks designer, and oil paintings in thick, ornate frames hang on all the walls.
A split staircase follows the walls and meets at the top in the back of the room, and that's where they bring me, before walking me down a hall with more fancy paintings on the walls, and into a smaller sitting room. Maybe more like a permanently covered terrace. Is that an observatory? I’ve never been in a house this fancy before.
It's shaped like a quarter circle, with domed windows that go all the way from the floor to the middle of the ceiling, giving an amazing view of the lake and the dreary winter woods next to it. A pier extends from the house, where a speedboat and a couple of jet skis are moored. A perfect vacation spot for the one percent. Or a prison for me.
Maybe I could break the window and jump, but I’m three floors up. Even if I broke through, I'd break my legs, at best. At worst, it'd be a short and embarrassing end to my captivity.
In the middle of the room is an ornate table and some chairs. “Have a seat,” says Harris and points. The binder I recognize all too well lies on the table.
“I'm never going to testify,” I repeat with all the conviction I can muster. Anything else feels like I'm betraying the guys' memory.
Harris cracks his knuckles. “Who gives a fuck?”