Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
They didn’t say we couldn’t kill him first, though.
“Promise me you two won’t do anything stupid.” Kat’s words ricochet in my head as the engine revs beneath me. She’s made me make that promise a thousand times. I ride behind Cillian in the dark of the night on the way to the Cavanaugh Crest, gripping the handlebar as the vibrations travel up, warning me that keeping that promise is going to take a fucking miracle.
We don’t find Cill’s uncle at the club. That would be an amateur move. I used my contact at The Ruin to set up a meeting at a place outside the city limits. There’s a large reservoir there, and once something comes in, it doesn’t come back out.
Still risky as hell to do this. We have no guarantees that someone else won’t show up.
Hell, I’m relying on my contact from The Ruin to get Eamon here. I half expect Finn to be with him or serving as his lookout, although I was assured he’d come alone.
We park down the hill from the reservoir, side by side on our bikes and kill the lights. Fear and doubt creep in as we wait. “We could keep riding,” I suggest to Cill. “We could pick up Kat and get the hell out of town.”
I don’t want her mixed up in this. It broke her heart when Cill went to prison. It doesn’t need to happen twice. We can figure things out on the road.
Just us, getting the hell away. Ever since he suggested it, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s the only thing that feels right anymore.
“If he killed my father … you know he did. I know he did. I’m not leaving here till he admits it.” With a nod, I follow him down to the meet. It’s a hill between two old warehouses, the moonlight and security lights are all that help us see.
There’s a good chance Cill’s uncle doesn’t show, either. There’s a chance all of this is another setup.
We wait about five minutes and a light appears at the bottom of the hill. An old man, a touch overweight in dark jeans and a black hoodie, checking a cell phone. It’s Cill’s uncle.
“Holy shit,” Cill says under his breath. “There he fucking is.” My pulse spikes.
Although we see him, it takes him about halfway to realize it’s us. He stops in his tracks as it registers. I wonder if he knows then. All I can think is he has to realize at some point tonight that we know. “Hey, Eamon,” I call out, keeping my voice even and trying not to raise suspicion as his hand falls to his waistband. I can’t come back alone. The thought is buried deep in the back of my mind.
The crickets and the night sounds surround us until all I can hear is my blood rushing in my ears. Eamon’s eyes narrow. “You’re not who I’m supposed to be meeting with.”
“We got a message too.” I keep my tone even. I don’t want to scare him off. “It said to meet here and ask about Missy … is that what you’re doing here? Something about a rat?”
He laughs, nervousness filtering into it and I know he hears it just like the two of us do. Clearing his throat he adds, “Now they didn’t tell me that. That’s,” he shakes his head, one hand running down his jaw, the other lingering over the gun tucked in his jeans.
“That’s what?” Cill questions. “You sure she was a rat? We heard it might be someone else. We heard it might be you.”
A moment of silence hangs over the hill.
“It’s a shame,” Cill’s uncle says.
“What’s a shame?” Cill asks.
“That it has to end this way,” his uncle replies.
He pulls out the gun, recklessly in an attempt to be fast. I’m faster, though, prepared and aiming it at his skull without stumbling. His is still aimed at the ground, his hoodie having slowed him down.
“Lift it and I pull the trigger, Eamon,” I tell him, my tone deadly.
“How about you drop it?” Cill says, the heavy gun in his hand slowly rising to aim at his uncle. “Tell us what happened. Did you kill my father?” A faint click tells me Cill’s a hairline pull of a trigger from ending it all. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin.
Eamon’s gaze goes from me to Cill. Gun or not, he’s still outnumbered. He’s going to have to hit us both if he wants to walk away from this place. There’s no way that’s happening. He swallows loudly and then gives a half-hearted smirk.
“Don’t you boys think this is all a bit overblown?” he says, the breeze in the chill of the night carrying his voice to us. “This is a misunderstanding. Put down the fucking gun, Reed.”