Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
The remaining two swing their weapons toward me, writing Kiara off as an afterthought, something not to be feared, and I almost laugh at the stupidity of it.
Fucking ignorant men. If only they knew the threat they just turned their backs on.
Kiara’s hand is on her blade in the blink of an eye, striking in a clean, shallow arc as she moves, steel flashing as she slices through one guard’s throat without ever breaking stride. He doesn’t even see it coming.
And then, just like that, Kiara leaves me with the rest of the bullshit and strides straight for the penthouse on the fifth floor, pausing at the door at the top of the stairs to turn back and offer me a sugary-sweet wave that quickly morphs into flipping me the bird.
“You might as well give up now, Raiden,” she says in a sing-song tone before she steps over the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her, and I groan as the softest click echoes through the stairwell as she locks the heavy door behind her.
Fuck me. This woman is going to be the death of me. But I’ll welcome it every goddamn day.
More gunfire comes from within the penthouse, and I quickly finish disposing of these morons. While it only takes seconds, they’re seconds that could make or break this job.
The guards’ bodies fall around me, and I step past them, making my way to the locked door. It’s reinforced steel. Not decorative. Not cheap. Built to stall someone exactly like me.
Fuck. Maybe I’ve underestimated Alistair. After all, I didn’t anticipate quite so many guards, not that they’ve been an issue. Just an annoyance.
Just like this fucking door.
Looking over it, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to kick it down like I’d easily done to Kiara’s apartment door. An industrial deadbolt is only as strong as the doorframe it’s anchored to. And this particular doorframe is going to be an issue.
Grinning to myself, I tip my head back and take in the decorative window perched above the reinforced steel door.
How fucking moronic.
The man installs a door built to survive a missile strike, but leaves a thin pane of glass right above it, completely exposed like an afterthought. I suppose he had the right idea, just lacks the conviction required to be a true criminal mastermind.
I don’t hesitate. The butt of my gun connects with the window in a single upward swing, glass shattering inward. Shards rain down as I step closer, clearing the jagged edges with my forearm before jumping up and catching the high frame.
Glass bites into my palms, slicing through skin as I haul myself higher, but it doesn’t slow me down. Boots scrape against steel as I wedge my shoulder through the narrow opening, forcing my way inside while broken glass tears at my jacket and hands.
With one final shove, I drag myself over the frame and drop onto the other side.
My boots hit Alistair’s polished concrete floor with a solid thud, and as I peer into the home, I take in the chaos ahead.
Guards surround the property as Kiara seems to race around like the fucking Roadrunner. Someone is shooting at her while bodies pile up, her blades protruding from bodies all over. I almost laugh. Nobody can claim that we didn’t earn this particular payday. Not that she’ll be benefiting from this one, considering she won’t be winning.
Striding into the penthouse, I simply walk by Kiara as the guards attempt to gang up on her, half of them with shaky knees, and too oblivious to even notice me in the room. But not Kiara. Her eagle-eyed stare clocks me immediately.
“Uhhh . . . little help?”
I shrug it off. “Uhhh . . . nah. I think you’ve got it,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m here to see someone about a contract. I just need a minute.”
She groans, and as I stride past her, moving into one of the many open living rooms, I hear a sigh of resignation before six shots sound through the penthouse, each one of them as precise as one of mine.
Every single one of the guards goes down, and I realize she was only playing with them, biding her time for this very moment. As I glance back to check on her, I find her already flying through the air, barely giving me a moment to brace before she’s on my back, her arm snapping around my throat and pulling tight.
“Oh, not today, muffin,” I laugh, slamming my elbow back and ramming it into her stomach. She grunts, and I use the moment to reach over my head and grab her, physically flipping her right over top of me. Her body lands on one of Alistair’s plush, million-dollar rugs. But she doesn’t skip a beat, grinning as she kicks out and knocks a solid vase off the coffee table. It lands directly into her hands, and with the strength of a fucking gorilla, she launches it directly at my head.