Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I never really understood that concept. If you want to fuck someone else, leave the person you’re with first. It’s pretty fucking simple. Or better yet, just don’t enter into a relationship.
My partner calls again, and I sigh, finally answering it. “Hey, you’re not at your desk this morning. Where are you?” he asks.
“Shouldn’t you be enjoying your day off?” I ask, avoiding his question. It’s not like we aren’t usually out on the field.
“Yeah, well, I’m just going over these details of the most recent murder. It’s a fucking mess, and the chief is breathing down our necks for answers.”
“Isn’t he always?” I droll. Admittedly, this one’s been stretching out for longer than it should, and we still can’t confirm that it’s only one killer, even though my gut says it is.
“Come on, man, you’re busting my balls. Do you have any more hunches? Your instincts are usually on point. I propose we try to get some spies out there among the main underworld families. It might not be one of them, but surely, if there’s a serial killer on the loose, they’ll know about it. We need a lead, and where better to start than the criminals themselves.”
My eyebrows shoot up. That’s fucking bold of Lucas. I still haven’t told him that I’m looking into Hope Ivanov personally, but this line of thinking is risky. It’s why I didn’t want to get him involved. “What? You know these families are tough to break into. The last time someone attempted that was a year ago. We never found the body of the officer after disappearing not even a week later.”
That’s the fucking truth. We don’t know who to trust, and there are always things that slide under the radar or go missing. Once, Lucas and I went directly to the chief about the Monti family, and suddenly, the evidence went poof! Instead of pursuing it, we read the message loud and clear.
“I have two friends. They’re ex-military. I trust them,” he says.
If I weren’t already known by the Monti’s, Taylor’s, and Ivanov’s, I’d go undercover myself. But it’s risky.
“Why now?” I ask. “There’s so many hoops we have to jump through to do this above board.”
“We don’t tell the chief.” He says, and this shocks me and I can’t help but smile.
“Lucas I dare say I’ve rubbed off on you for the better.”
“Shut the fuck up. This is going too far. I can’t figure it out, and I’m sick of losing sleep over this case. I need my life back, and this killer needs to be behind bars.”
I can hear how tired he is and understand how frustrating it is not to figure it out. He’s getting desperate, which sometimes can become messy.
“And who’s paying them for this?” I question.
Lucas goes quiet. “I don’t know yet. I have a little bit of savings…”
I laugh. “Lucas, we’re detectives. We don’t earn even close to enough to buy their loyalty when the families can buy them out so easily.”
“I-I trust them,” he splutters. This is bold for Lucas, showing he’s at his wits’ end. I don’t exactly think it will work, but we’ve been going in circles.
“Fine. But I can’t offer much money. It’s risky, so I hope your men are as competent as you think because they might end up in a body bag.”
“They know the risks. And they both owe me a favor.”
“Who are you targeting first?” I ask.
“The Taylor’s mostly focus on the sex industry, so I figured I might as well begin with the bloodthirsty ones: the Monti’s and Ivanov’s.”
I shake my head because I’m certain his men are going to end up dead in a matter of days. He can’t send in two men to try and cut off the head of the snake that owns an entire den of vipers. But I have to trust in my partner, I remind myself.
I don’t like the idea of them snooping around Hope when I’ve already decided she’s my case, but they have no reason to target her when they’ll go for the bigger fish instead. Either Alek or Anya.
“Good luck to them is all I’m going to say.”
I hang up the phone. I’m after a serial killer, not a mysterious artist. Yet, I can’t curb my curiosity about Hope Ivanov.
I laugh, remembering her shitty shots with the gun. Am I turning into a crazy man ensnared by a little she-devil?
One thing’s for certain—she really does suck with a gun.
CHAPTER 12
Hope
I’ve flown out for a show in Paris, but not before I scheduled an elegant black box to be delivered to Braxton’s address and left at his door. My stomach flutters, just imagining his reaction. Will he be mortified at the drowned man I took inspiration from? Can he appreciate the work that went into the piece? I know it’s risky sending them to him, but I’ve never felt more alive, finally being able to show someone my secret art.