Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Which, in their line of work, it most certainly was.
They dismissed two of their wet workers—hit men who did the close-up jobs—for lack of necessity and began vetting their other personnel in ways that ensured the operation was safer than it’d previously been. “Sixty-six percent of juvenile delinquents grow up without fathers,” Posey told her own father when they were considering an applicant.
“Your past shouldn’t define you, Posey, nor that which isn’t of your doing.”
“It should be factored in,” she insisted. “Trust in our employees is paramount.”
“Those who seek a position with us aren’t generally well adjusted,” her father reminded her.
“Exactly,” she said. “Any additional qualities that might heighten their potential for unreliability should be considered.”
He rubbed his chin. “We’ll factor it in then,” he said. “But it won’t be an immediate disqualification. Otherwise, we might never find anyone to work for us.”
“Likelihoods are based on more than one factor,” she agreed.
He regarded her again. “Sometimes, Posey, I think I should have insisted you get out more . . . spend time with your peers. You’re only seventeen. Other girls your age—”
“I don’t like people my age. And they don’t like me.”
He sighed. “That’s my fault.”
“No, Father. It’s no one’s fault. I’m happy working with you and solving problems that are difficult to solve.”
“Yes, but Posey, all this, all this, oh . . .” He sighed again. “There are good people in the world, too, Posey. People who don’t want to murder others.”
“I know, Father.”
“I’m not sure you do, Posey Pose. When your mother died, well, I should have perhaps ensured there were other more . . . gentle influences in your life.” He glanced out the window, a worried frown on his lips. But then he regarded her, and his frown lifted into a small smile. “But, ah, you’re so young, and you have much life ahead of you. Time to live and learn and fall in love and to have children.”
Posey stared. Love seemed rather frivolous to Posey, and children were unacceptable creatures who made no sense to her at all. Thank goodness she’d never been one, at least not in the ways that made them ridiculous. She certainly didn’t want anything to do with them now.
“So much time,” her father repeated, his voice filled with wistfulness.
Her father, however, was not in possession of such.
Soon after, he called Posey and Anton into his office. Posey could tell right away that he was going to share bad news by the puckered look of his mouth and the way he gripped his hands together on his desk, knuckles white. Posey and Anton sat in the chairs before him, and he gave them a smile that appeared tired. Her father was rarely tired. Generally, he was bursting with energy.
“What is it, Father?” Posey asked, her voice unusually uncertain.
He looked between his children, gaze hanging on his daughter for a moment longer. “I’m ill,” he said. “I plan to begin treatment immediately. However, my prognosis is not good.”
Posey felt a strange drop in her stomach and wondered if she was having a medical episode as well. Perhaps her father’s disease was contagious.
“How long, Father?” Anton asked, and Posey saw the way his fingers gripped his trousers on his thighs as though he’d had a sudden surge of that energy their father currently lacked.
“A year, perhaps a little more, perhaps a bit less.”
A little more. A bit less. Posey didn’t like those nonspecific measurements. Posey tried only to deal in exacts.
“I see,” Anton said, his fingers relaxing. “You’ll need more assistance, then, with the business.”
“Business can be discussed another time,” their father said, pushing back from his chair and standing. Posey and Anton followed suit. “For now, I just wanted you to know why Dr. Solano will be here on a regular basis. And hopefully, my condition responds to treatment more positively than they believe.”
“Medical providers misdiagnose diseases eleven percent of the time,” Posey blurted out, her words rushed. “And only twenty percent of cases show prognostic accuracy.”
Anton snickered, but he quickly covered it with a cough when their father shot him a displeased glance. When he looked back at Posey, his expression softened. “Not the worst odds, Posey Pose.”
“No, Father. Not the worst.”
Their father left them standing there with a nod and made his way out of the room. Posey and Anton followed behind, and when they stepped from their father’s office, the echo of his footsteps disappearing down the marble hall, Anton turned on Posey, striking like a snake as he gripped her neck and pushed her against the wall. “Listen, you little freak of nature, if you think for a second that you’re going to be involved in the business once I’m in charge, you are sorely mistaken. Once I run this operation, the Kiss family business won’t take advice or counsel from mutants.” Then he leaned forward and laughed in her face, his spittle spraying over her cheek. He gave her one final shove against the wall before letting go.