Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I have a family.”
“You should have thought about that before you delivered a loaded gun to my family. Bullet or beating. Last time I’ll ask.”
I set my weapon on the crypt where the water was and start to roll up my sleeves to make a point.
“Where did you get the gun?” I ask, hauling him up to his feet.
“I don’t know,” he manages.
I punch him in the gut. He doubles over.
“Where did you get the gun?”
He spits blood and clutches his middle. I straighten him, this time delivering a punch to his already broken nose. He goes down with that one.
“Where did you get the gun?”
I ask again. He holds up his hands, trying to catch his breath. “Wait. Wait. Please.” He wheezes.
I watch him, holding back. Severin beat the shit out of him. Did he do it himself or have someone do it for him? Because this is not what I expect of my stepbrother.
The man nods, licks his lips. He’s half doubled over. “I got home one day and… I work for the Blackstones.” He takes a long break. “I got home and my mother showed me a package. A bag. Left hanging on the front door. Cash inside. Shit ton of it.” He looks at that water again and I let him sit and take another sip.
“Continue.”
“The bag had a box alongside it. A note that said double that amount would be dropped off as soon as I made this delivery and the time and place.”
“So you delivered the box to a little boy?”
“I didn’t know what was inside. I swear.”
“But you delivered it all the same. You think someone paid you a wad of cash to deliver a fucking toy?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Then you’re a fucking idiot. Did you get the second drop of money?”
He nods, swallowing.
“Who was it?”
“Don’t know. I wasn’t home.”
“Your mother was?”
He swallows hard.
“I’ll go ask her then.” I get up.
“Wait! No. Please. She doesn’t know anything. It was a motorcycle. License was out of state, but she didn’t see which state. That’s all. Don’t hurt me. Please.”
“Fuckin’ whiner,” Rami says from his place.
I take the gun, cock it.
“Ah, no man,” the man starts, dropping to his knees I guess to beg. Rami laughs. “I told Mr. Blackstone. Please, I’ll disappear. I’ll—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish, though because I put a bullet between his eyes. His body thuds when it hits the ground.
I turn to Rami who’s watching. Who shifts his beady eyes to me, a challenge in them.
I think about how Allegra panicked upstairs. I think about how scared she’s been. And I remember my promise.
Pieces. I’ll deliver her enemies to her in pieces.
My gaze falls to the chopping block and butcher knife we put down here. When I look back at Rami, his grin vanishes. Good.
I put the gun beside the bottle of water and walk toward the cell, taking that butcher’s knife off the block and picking up the keyring hanging on the wall.
“You think this is funny?” I ask him, sliding the key into the lock and opening the cell door. It creaks, the metal rusted and ancient.
Rami is seated at the far end of the cell cradling his arm which I broke on day one. He looks at the knife, then at me.
“Hey, that was Malek. Not me.”
“Oh yeah? Let me ask you this,” I say, walking into the cell. “Did she set her hand on that block willingly? Hold it there for Malek to chop off her finger?”
His eyes narrow, shifting to the knife at my side then back to my face.
“I didn’t think so. Do you know what I promised her?” I ask him, satisfied when he backs away. “I promised to deliver her enemies to her in pieces.”
His back hits the wall. “They’re coming for you, you know that?”
“Are they? Is Malek coming for me? That would save me some time because from what I see, he’s hiding like the fucking coward he is. But I have you, don’t I? While I wait to smoke out that cockroach.”
His eyes settle on mine and what I see in them throws me off. Because he’s cocky. He’s about to be butchered. He knows he is. But he’s cocky.
“Tell me, did you touch her with these filthy hands?” I ask him, getting in his face, his rank smell turning my stomach.
“I can help you. I can find him for you.”
“Not what I asked. Did you touch her?”
He grins with one side of his mouth and my muscles tighten, my hand a fist around the handle of that knife as I take his forearm with the other.
He touched her. I know he did. And I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. How I’ve let him live for as long as I have.
“I did more than touch her. And I’m not the only one.”