Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 135792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Are you fucking kidding me? There’s no way I’m leaving you anywhere. It’s you and me. And it’ll stay that way. That’s what we agreed on, remember?” He wasn’t lying, they did make such plans, but those never felt serious with girlfriends coming and going.
“If it was an accident, and he attacked first, why didn’t you call the cops?” Frank asked, as if he wasn’t a criminal with a business that involved disappearing dead people and a murder container with cages.
Liv grabbed the bars, pushing his face between them. “People like us don’t get to walk away from consequences with a slap on the wrist. His dad is already in prison, put away for years, and we’re not nice boys from the suburbs. Just look at us!”
Knox shook his head and stroked Liv’s arm. “And I was working construction for the guy off the books. It’s just… Nothing is looking up for us, man, but if you let us prove—”
“You did construction?” Frank asked, stepping closer.
Knox quickly nodded. “Yeah, all sort of shit. Cement mixer, bulldozer, truck license—”
Frank interrupted him without mercy. “Forklift?”
“Yes. I can build you a fucking sauna and hot tub. I fix cars, upholstery, spray paint, you name it.”
Liv nodded and gave the side of Knox’s head a kiss.
“He is so good. And I worked in a car parts shop. I’m good at fixing things, and I race. You need a getaway driver, I’m your man,” Liv said. “But anything you need me to learn, I can learn fast,” he said and grabbed Knox’s hand. When their fingers entwined, it seemed to be the easiest motion in the fucking universe. They fit together like a custom-made suit fit a Wall Street broker.
Knox squeezed Liv’s fingers tightly, starting to feel that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t die tonight.
Frank took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m keeping your IDs. And you’re on… let’s call it probation. But you can stay for a few days. I do warn you though.” He pointed to a hook hanging from a chain in the corner. “Just try to fuck me over, and I’ll be skinning you alive in front of each other. We’ll see who bleeds out first. Understood?”
Liv pulled Knox close as they both watched the giant man unlock the cell. This has been almost too easy, and when the door opened, Frank stared at them and repeated himself. It was only then that Knox and Liv both nodded.
Goddamn, Knox couldn’t believe this crazy fucking plan had worked.
Only when Knox needed to put on his jacket did he realize he was still holding Liv’s hand, and suddenly felt awkward about it, but since they were both under Frank’s scrutiny, he didn’t say a thing.
“Th-thank you,” Knox muttered, trying to keep his shit together. He’d always considered himself a tough guy, but he wasn’t a dispose-of-bodies-in-acid kind of tough. Though fuck knew where this new path was about to lead him.
Frank scowled, leaning closer. “And you’ll be taking a shower before you eat. I won’t have you stinking up my place.”
Knox should take offense at the comment, but all he could think of was that they’ll get to eat.
Chapter 7
Liv
Frank had built his house in the middle of the junkyard, but while on the outside it had the appearance of a run-of-the-mill bungalow from the suburbs, its walls hid a collection of fancy furniture and art. Liv had once been taken on a school trip to the California State Capitol, and some of the furniture he’d seen there matched the heavy, dark wood of the sideboard holding a collection of fancy plates in Frank’s dining room.
The main table itself was in a rougher shape, and scarred by numerous marks, yet its thick wooden surface felt like velvet under Liv’s fingers. He waited for his tea, watching Frank’s partner, Ezra, prepare food in an open plan kitchen with beautifully carved cabinets. Knox sank deeper into his chair and stared at the gallery wall of framed black and white photographs featuring the scrapyard.
Not a dead body or barrel of acid in sight. A normal fucking home. In fact, a fancier one than any Liv had ever visited.
Three pendant lights with lampshades in a lively shade of green illuminated the table as Ezra approached them with a tray of tea and snacks.
Ezra’s gaze, golden brown like quality whisky, scanned the two intruders, and while he hadn’t yet complained about their presence, Liv got a sense that he was not happy about it. He kept adjusting the soft black waves falling to his neck, but it was likely just an excuse to peek at them, as if he expected someone to pickpocket him in his own home.
Smooth hands with long, manicured fingers put the tray in the middle of the table, and Liv took note of an odd ring made of silver and copper and set with a single diamond. Especially since it featured on Ezra’s ring finger. Dressed in a sweater made of the finest wool and beige pants that subtly showcased his ass and thighs, he was as out of place in a scrapyard as Liv was in a fancy restaurant.