Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Gordon.
Brown.
Damn.
Chef Charleston’s voice cuts through the room. “We’re going to work on precision today. Precision is love. Lazy is disrespect. The best chefs are lovers. Pick a side.”
I pick.
He strides back to my bench to reclaim his cutting board. On the way, he nods at the bag. “You want me to hold those?” he asks. “I’ve got a cooler.”
“No. I’m good.” I slip the bag into my backpack. “Thanks again for your help, Chef.”
He nods. “You have real talent for all of this. Use it.”
“I will.”
He starts class. I force my hands to tie my apron clean and even. I lay my knife down straight. I act like today is any other day.
But it isn’t.
I know the line that just connected.
I know what it means.
Jordan shuffles in, nearly late again. I ignore him as he pulls on his apron.
After class, I’ll text Vinnie about the chocolate. About the one piece that gives me the clue I’ve been searching for.
Colombian.
I can taste the cup in my hands again. Fruit. Flower. Earth. I feel the wood of the molinillo between my palms. The price of that lesson on my knees in the pantry, but the beautiful way that the chocolate erased the taste of his rancid dick.
If he sent these, he wants me to remember. He wants something else too.
But what?
I have nothing to give. My father’s money was all dirty. I’m virtually penniless. Everything I have is from Vinnie.
And if it’s me he wants…
I square my shoulders. Pick up my knife. I breathe.
“Okay,” Chef calls. “Let’s get ready.”
My eyes are up. My knuckles are steady.
And for the first time since I got the roses, I feel I might survive all of this.
39
HAWK
Getting into the gated community was easier this time. Reyes gave me his personal passcode to use at the gate so I didn’t have to wait for another resident to piggyback on. I kill the engine and sit for a beat, watching Reyes’s house through the windshield.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
He’s not here. I left him gagged in the barn, wrists cinched. No phone, no way to signal anyone. And still…
The back of my neck itches.
What if he has a contingency?
Somebody he checks in with every day?
Somebody who’s already wondering why they haven’t heard from him?
I mean, if I were a gangster, that’s what I’d do. I’d have a failsafe in place for just this type of situation.
The thought makes my jaw lock. I scan the house. The fake cameras are still in place. But they don’t need to be real to fuck me over if there’s someone watching the outside.
Still. Once I have the diary and the photos, none of it will matter.
If the bastard’s dumb enough to leave a written confession and trophies, I’ll have him by the throat forever.
I move fast, keeping low under the big front windows, and slip inside from the back like I did before. His place smells like stale cigar smoke and money—the scent of a man who’s never had to clean up after himself.
I find the master bedroom and head to the large closet where Reyes’s suits hang in neat rows. I go to the back, just like he told me. I pull aside a section of shelving, and there it is.
The safe.
I punch in the code he gave me.
Nothing.
I try again.
Nothing.
One more time.
Dead red light.
The heat rises in my chest. I slam my palm against the keypad. Then my fist. Again. And again.
The steel doesn’t care.
My knuckles split, blood smearing over the surface.
Fuck.
I just left DNA all over his damned safe.
The realization makes my pulse spike.
Reyes played me. He sat there in that chair, wrists tied, sock in his mouth, and still found a way to twist the knife.
And I let him.
The images start flashing through my head.
Reyes laughing, thinking about how he’s still winning.
Reyes in Colombia, that smug grin on his face while Daniela—
No. I shut it down before the rage eats me alive.
I’m going to make him regret it.
I press my forehead against the cool metal for a second, breathing hard. The safe is silent, but in my head it’s laughing at me.
I straighten, flex my sore hand, and leave the closet.
Back to the barn.
Back to Reyes.
I’ll drag the real code out of him one way or another. He’ll give it up. They always do.
I’m halfway down the stairs when my phone rings.
Falcon.
My gut reaction is to ignore it. Reyes is the priority. The sooner I get that code, the sooner I can get the evidence and end this.
But something stops me.
Guilt, sharp and sour.
I wasn’t there for Eagle the other night. I was too wrapped up in Daniela to see that my brother was circling the drain.
And now Falcon’s calling.
I swipe to answer.
“What?” My voice is harsher than I mean it to be.
Falcon doesn’t flinch. “Eagle’s awake.”
The words freeze me mid-step.