Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
We eat. Well, I eat. Ghost’s more interested in licking his lips at me and savoring his drink. Apart from a few fries and three cuts into the fish he ordered, he barely has anything at all.
How he has a physique like that while eating so little is beyond me.
“Excuse me,” someone says at the side of our table. Both Ghost and I turn toward him lazily, thinking it’s a waiter. But from the suit he’s wearing, adorned with gold chains, an Italian flag pinned to the lapel, and earrings, I quickly realize he isn’t.
He’s looking at me. Straight at me. Not even giving the monster sitting at my side a single glance. But I do. And Ghost’s face says it all. Even in its naturally stern state, I can see the cracks forming.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” our unwanted guest asks.
That voice. It takes my brain a second to put it together, but when it does, fear tightens my muscles into one big knot.
It’s him. The man I heard the night Ghost saved me.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Ghost cuts in. “So, how ‘bout you get going and let us enjoy our night?”
“Not looking to cause a fuss, my man.” There it is. The cocky confidence of a man who hasn’t earned it. “But I’m gonna have a chat with this lovely lady here. Then you two can go on with your date, ‘kay?” His eyes finally turn away from me and settle on Ghost. A fearful yet silent sigh slips out of me in the brief respite. “Come to think of it, something about you looks awful familiar, too.”
“Watch yourself, my man,” Ghost growls. “Go back to your table. Enjoy your dinner. Forget what you saw here.”
“Woah, you’re intense.” The cocky dude shoots Ghost with finger guns. “Kinda like it. But all right, I understand. You’ve made your point, and I must be mistaken. Sorry for the interruption, and I’ll just be getting out of your hair.”
With that, he leaves, but it’s more like he vanishes into the furniture. Because when I look over to see where he is, he’s gone.
“We need to go,” Ghost says. “Now.”
I’m ten steps ahead of him, clutching my handbag in my lap.
Ready to run.
11
GHOST
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Gemma’s coming undone. Nervously fidgeting with anything she can get her hands on while I drive. It’s times like these when I wish I were better. Understood the normal side of life. Could give her more than a shoulder to lean on.
I can’t. I never learned how to whisper sweet nothings. Give false hope. Promise a world I couldn’t deliver. I’m the cold-blooded creature men like Don Bernal call to make messes go away. Not the soft-hearted gentleman who can make even the darkest day bright.
But where I fail in one aspect, I exceed in the other. And this time, I won’t be taking out someone else’s trash.
“It was.” No point in lying to her. We’re in this together, for better or worse, no matter what happens next.
“Did I mess up?” Gemma asks when my car comes to a stop in front of the safe house.
“No. Never.” I rest a hand atop her knee.
My eyes are glued to her face. Searching every line for an answer to what’s happening inside her.
“But I asked to go out. He saw us because of me.” Her stillness is unsettling. Though, that’s how it goes, isn’t it? The calm before the storm.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, little Gem.” My grip on the steering wheel turns to white-knuckled strangulation. “I knew the risks and shouldn’t have agreed to it. But what’s done is done. Don’t look to the past for answers. Look at the future with you and me in it.”
Gemma nods, but there’s no movement on her face to say she believes it. Her gaze remains fixed somewhere past the motel walls’ faded paint. Into a void that’s staring straight back at her. Unlocking fears I’ve fought to keep at bay.
I get out of the car and circle it to open Gemma’s door. She joins me, holds my hand, and squeezes tight as we make our way back to the safe house.
Inside, my mind settles on the reality of our situation. There’s no way Rico hasn’t put two together that I’m the Ghost. That Gemma’s alive, well, and in my care. But worst of all, I know he followed us back here. His vendetta wouldn’t allow him to let this go so easily. Getting one over on me is his life’s goal right now, and I pity him for trying.
Gemma heads to the sofa and sits on it delicately. With it, her seams start to split. Tears well in the lids of her eyes, and she sniffles softly. Her hands, balled in tight fists on her lap, struggle to reach up and brush away the oncoming threat of spilling liquid.