Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
He shoves me, getting in my face. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Your world and my world are two different things, aren’t they?” I reach for the Glock in its holster under my jacket and bring the barrel to his throat. “Aren’t they?”
“You gonna shoot me?” he snorts. “Seems like a fair fight. Why not?”
“You’re right.” I walk away and set the gun down on the nearest surface. “You want a fight? Sure. Let’s do this, shall we? Fists it is. It’s time you had a proper beating to put you in your place and this time, to keep you there.” I draw my fist back and slam it into his gut.
He’s ready though, as ready as he can be. He braces himself because Jet, too, is a fighter. If it were Severin, I’m not sure what I’d get, a pussy or a killer. But Jet, he likes my world. He wants in on my world. He wants to get his hands dirty.
So maybe it’s time I let him.
“Yeah, let’s do this. It’s overdue, isn’t it?” He forces me backward and I hit a side table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor.
We fight, Jethro and I, like we’ve never fought before, and it feels good to get it out. To finally release some of this tension that’s been building for too long. Tension that Allegra has only amplified. But things are getting clearer as I beat Jet. As I take his punches. We’re well matched, he and I. It’s only when I send him crashing through the glass coffee table that he stays down for a minute. That he pauses to catch his breath.
I grin, haul him up, tasting the copper of my own blood as I ready to swing.
He blocks me, though and his next hit sends me slamming into the liquor tray, all those bottles crashing down onto the pristine hardwood floors.
We fight, fists flying, until, finally, we both slow down, both of us bloodied, both of us panting, me clutching my side where Allegra stabbed me, the wound he probably has reopened. Him with his hand on his jaw adjusting it, his lip bleeding.
“This is fucking stupid,” he says.
“Had enough then?” I ask, stalking, or attempting to stalk, toward him, but the pain in my side is too much.
“Have you?” He drops onto the couch.
I have. I’m fucking beat and so is he. I find the one bottle of whiskey that seems to have survived our assault and pick it up. Uncapping it, I drink right from the bottle before dropping into the chair across from him.
“She’s not for you, Jethro.”
“What the hell was that with Sev?” he asks, ignoring what I just said altogether and reaching to take the bottle from me. He drinks three deep swallows.
“You don’t know?”
“He doesn’t exactly confide in me.”
“You lying?”
“Christ, you’re fucking boring, you know that?” He drinks another swallow then hands the bottle back to me.
“A package was dropped off at Vivi’s mother’s house. A gift for Gage. She knew something wasn’t right and called Vivi who opened the damn thing before calling me.”
“What was it?”
“A gun registered to Blackstones. At least she didn’t give it to him.”
“A gun? A real fucking gun?” he asks, and I believe he doesn’t know about it. At least I want to believe that he doesn’t know.
“With a single bullet in it.”
“Fuck. She okay?”
“Yeah. It was too close though. Serial number was intact enough that we’d know where it came from and, conveniently, Severin reported it stolen just this morning.”
“Why the hell would he do that? That’s not his MO. You know how squeamish he is about blood.”
“He sure didn’t sound squeamish when I confronted him tonight.”
“Shit.” He drinks more whiskey while I study him. When he’s done, he sets the bottle down.
“If it was Severin, I’m going to kill him. If Sybil was involved, I’m going to kill her. And if I learn you even had a clue of what was going on, I’m going to fucking add you to that list, am I clear?”
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, my phone pings with a message. I reach into my pocket, pull out both mine and Allegra’s and her betrayal burns fresh again.
Another text comes in on my phone. I unlock the screen.
The first text is an automated one from one of my offshore accounts. I read the preview, read it again, because this can’t be right.
I open the message, then click into the account.
And there it is. An eight-million-dollar deposit.
What the fuck?
This automated text is followed by another from an unknown number.
I’ll be retrieving my sister tonight. I have big plans for her, and she’d better have all remaining fingers and toes intact.
I read it a second time, my brain slow to understand even as my body isn’t. Even as a fresh shot of adrenaline courses through my veins. When my brain finally catches up, I shoot up off the seat and lunge for my gun.