Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I hit the red button on my phone for the millionth time, focusing on the road ahead.
“Dr. Patel better be your fucking mistress, or you’ll have some explaining to do about all the phone calls you refuse to answer.” Achilles lit himself a cigarette in the seat next to me.
Dr. Patel wasn’t happy I skipped my therapy visit today. Well, he’d have to deal. I had more pressing matters to tend to.
The growing list of assholes blowing up my phone also included Dylan, Calla, Sadie, and Alix. They all presumably tried to get ahold of Gia with no success.
“He’s far too obsessed with his wife for a mistress.” Tierney had the audacity to chip in to the conversation from her place wedged between Enzo and Luca in the back seat. She examined her long fingernails with her hands perched in her lap, wrists zip-tied tightly. “It’s probably his shrink. I’m guessing he has at least two on the payroll.”
She was good.
I regarded her coolly through the rearview mirror. She’d been running her mouth like it was training for a marathon since she got into my vehicle. Just like Gia, she didn’t let big men in expensive suits intimidate her, even those with a habit of killing people.
Tierney pouted, stretching her long legs and crossing her ankles. “Or maybe you’re in search of a mistress? I could use a sugar daddy.”
“No, thanks,” I hissed out. “Your idea of sugar is probably rat poison.”
The men in the car laughed.
“You know, I never really understood why men join the Mafia of their own accord. It’s so…childish.”
Achilles looked like he’d prefer a lobotomy over listening to her, shaking his head and taking a long drag of his cigarette.
Tierney continued, undeterred. “If you want to do a bunch of terrible things for your own profit, why not become a politician? There’s less of a chance you’d spend time behind bars if you get caught.”
“There’s a very good chance I’ll hurl you right out the fucking window and off the bridge if you don’t zip it,” Achilles announced.
“Speaking of fucking, a little birdie told me Achilles had a thing with Enzo’s sweetheart to get back at him for a failed mission.” Tierney swiveled her head to Enzo, arching a speculative brow. “But you don’t seem too broken about it. Wonder why that is?”
Enzo stiffened beside her, flattening his lips. “What do you want me to do, cry into a pillow?”
Tierney was in on a secret. And Enzo was obviously shitting bricks, not wanting her to spill it out.
“I did him a favor,” Achilles said coolly. “Any woman willing to open her legs for her longtime boyfriend’s brother is not worth putting a ring on.”
“Nice mental gymnastics.” Tierney gave him a thumbs-up, her wrists chafing together. “Are you also this flexible in bed?”
Achilles twisted toward Luca. “Permission to cut off one of her fingers?” he inquired dryly. “The bitch is having way too much fun in our captivity.”
“And you care because?” Luca sneered.
“She’s ruining my reputation. Not to mention my fucking eardrums.”
Luca glanced at his Cartier. “Just ten more minutes, and she’ll be back to being Callaghan’s problem. Along with the others he created for himself.”
“I wouldn’t mind parting ways with just one finger if it saves your fragile ego.” Tierney twirled a scarlet lock of hair around her finger.
“Oh, but I’ll make sure it’s the one you use to get yourself off.” Achilles showed her his teeth.
This made Tierney blush, which I assumed was a world fucking record.
“Anyway,” Tierney singsonged, recovering quickly. “I personally wouldn’t forgive a sibling for screwing my partner, but that’s just me.”
“One more word,” Achilles said slowly as I zipped over the bridge crossing into New Jersey, “and I will harm you, piccola fiamma. It’s in Tate’s best interest that you arrive unharmed, but I couldn’t give two shits about what condition you’ll be in.”
Dipshit just gave her a nickname.
I hoped we were close, because at this rate, they’d be having babies in my back seat before we got there.
Dr. Patel called again. His sixth time. The call went to voicemail. Then all was quiet for half a second. I groaned, relishing the momentary silence.
Achilles’s shoulders unknotted, and he reached to turn on the radio. “18 and Life” by Skid Row blasted through the speakers.
“Did you know…” Tierney shoved herself between Achilles and me, looking between us with a smirk. “This song is inspired by guitarist Dave Sabo’s brother, Rick, who didn’t kill anyone, but his life was changed forever when he came back from the Vietnam Wa—”
Achilles grabbed ahold of the steering wheel, jolting it sharply toward the shoulder of the road. The car skidded and screeched. I pumped the brake lightly so as not to throw us all off the bridge. It swiveled a couple times anyway, careening with momentum. The scent of burned rubber singed my nostrils.