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)
Immediately, crystal-blue eyes gazing up at me from the bottom of a staircase come to mind, and I push Braxton out of my thoughts. I’m not making time for him, specifically, but maybe I can explore the dating thing. Maybe I can ask Ivy to organize a double date. Then again, I heard that a double date went tragically wrong with her and Billie.
I don’t even know if I want these things. What I do know is I’ve lived in my routine for so long now, I need something more. Something that challenges me. Killing a detective seems like a very intense shift in direction, but I’m not at all discouraged by it.
“Thank you.” I hug them both and press a kiss on both of their cheeks.
“You don’t need a piece of paper to tell you how incredible you are,” Mom says.
“We’re proud of all of your accolades already,” Dad is quick to say.
I roll my eyes. I really lucked out with the best parents in the world. But it’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to fly the nest, so to speak. And I feel a crackle of energy around me. I can tell something big is about to happen, and it excites me as much as it scares me.
“I’m going to go finish reading my book now,” I tell them, then make my way to my bedroom. After I shower, snuggle into my bed, and light a candle, I quickly check my burner phone in my top drawer.
I have a new message. It’s a photo of a bald man who appears to have had his neck broken. I think of the way I’ll be able to shape the glass, highlighting the twisted neck. But my eyebrows furrow as something occurs to me. I think I saw this man at the club tonight. Didn’t I? Or maybe it’s my imagination.
I’ve specially requested the homicides that are put across Braxton’s desk to be sent to me. So does this mean they think it’s the same killer?
CHAPTER 16
Braxton
I’m back at the club I left only an hour ago, now staring at the body of the man my partner hired to tail the Ivanovs.
“You were here, too, weren’t you? Did you see him? What the fuck happened?” Lucas spits. I clamp my hand on his shoulder, ushering him to the side of the building. A few officers are looking in our direction because it’s very much unlike him to lose his cool. That’s usually my job.
“You need to calm down; people are watching. Reel it in,” I say firmly.
He looks over my shoulder and takes a heavy breath. “He was my friend.”
“And you knew the risks they were taking.”
“Yeah, but… literally on the first night?”
“I warned you these families move quickly. How’s your other guy doing?”
“Not dead, as far as I know. Maybe I should pull him out.”
I ignore whatever he says next as I scan the area. We’re in the backyard of a small home only a block away from the nightclub. There are no surveillance cameras nearby, and the last thing caught on camera is four men following Ivy Walker, one of Hope’s friends. He must’ve been following them and didn’t even make it a block down.
“This throws off everything we know about the killer. It has to be two people,” Lucas states. “We’ve always thought it could be a woman because they’ve never used brute strength, but he’s had his neck broken, which takes strength. For him to have been overpowered like this, it has to be a man. On top of that, the fucker was careful enough not to leave any marks. Who goes in with that kind of cruel calculation?”
“Lower your voice,” I growl, trying to think.
It’s obvious the killer must’ve been wearing gloves or something of the sort. The first person who comes to mind is Hope’s father, who is known for wearing gloves. I blanch at the idea of approaching them directly.
Surveillance shows it was only fifteen minutes after I took off that Hope left in a car identified as belonging to Ford Ivanov. Perhaps her father came back to the area?
Is it someone who is protective of Ivy Walker? It could possibly have something to do with her father. There are so many different possibilities, and I can tell Lucas is thinking the same.
“Families like this are going to pick flies off within seconds. Maybe call your second guy off of following the Monti’s?”
Lucas grinds his jaw. “I don’t think he’ll want to after he hears about this. There’s something fishy going on.”
I try not to laugh. Fishy is an understatement when it comes to this family.
I need to get closer to Hope. She needs to be cornered and confess all of her dark, twisted inner thoughts.
Another body on the pile and another layer to this already fucked-up tale.