Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
"Right." Rocco shifted, the massive snake tattoo on his bicep rippling under his shirt. "And I'm Mother Teresa."
I bit back a retort, focusing instead on Pearl's movements. She had the kind of grace you couldn't fake—all long legs and subtle curves that made my mouth go dry. But it was the sadness in her eyes that really got to me. I recognized that look. I'd seen it in the mirror every day since Dad died.
"The maid's on schedule," I said, desperate to change the subject. "Security rotation in fifteen."
"About fucking time." Rocco checked his watch. "Getting tired of watching you pretend not to drool over Salvatore's stepdaughter."
I stuck my old gum under the windowsill with more force than necessary. "This isn't about her. It's about making her stepfather pay."
"Keep telling yourself that, brother." Rocco's voice held an edge I knew too well—the same edge it got whenever we talked about Dad's murder. "Just remember why we're here."
As if I could forget. The weight of Dad's death had been crushing me for years, along with the knowledge that I should have been there that night. Instead, I'd let myself get distracted, and Salvatore's men had taken advantage of my absence.
Costa's cousin had the flight path cleared and the chopper on standby. One more piece falling into place. Everything was proceeding according to Giuliano's plan, but something felt off.
"Time," Rocco announced, checking his suppressed Sig. I took one last look through the scope, catching Pearl in an unguarded moment. She was hugging herself, head bowed, looking nothing like the polished doll her stepfather paraded around in photographs.
We moved quickly, efficiently, crossing the pedestrian bridge to her building.
The lobby was exactly what we expected. Two guards at the desk, one by the elevators. Nico's loop was running on the cameras.
"Let's move," Rocco muttered as he went ahead, and the fire alarm kicked everything into motion. People running everywhere, guards trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Couldn't have asked for better cover.
The guards never stood a chance. Three quiet shots from our tranquilizer guns and they were down. I pushed away the twinge of guilt as we dragged them aside—guilt was a luxury we couldn't afford in this life. This was necessary.
But as we rode the freight elevator up, metal groaning under our feet, Pearl's lonely figure kept appearing in my mind. I'd done dozens of jobs like this. She was supposed to be just another piece in our revenge against Salvatore. A means to an end. So why the hell did the thought of using her make my stomach turn?
Nico met us at the elevator, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "Change of plans," he said tersely. "We're going up, not down. Cops are already on their way."
The helicopter's presence suddenly made more sense. Sometimes the best plans were the ones made on the fly.
We found Pearl in the hallway outside her apartment, looking lost and confused and more beautiful up close than any scope could capture. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, all my carefully constructed walls trembled.
I caught the flash of fear she tried to hide, but there was something else in that gaze that made my blood run hot. Something that made me forget, for one dangerous second, that she was supposed to be just another target.
The sound of Nico's signal from the roof made her jump, but she didn't scream. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself in that same vulnerable gesture I'd watched through my scope.
"My stepfather will pay whatever you want," she said softly, her voice steady despite everything. "He always does."
"Not this time," I said, my voice harsher than intended.
The helicopter's rotor wash grew louder above us as I moved closer to Pearl. She held my gaze, not backing away. Just that quiet defiance that made something shift in my chest.
"Remember why we're here," Rocco's earlier words echoed in my head.
But with Pearl standing before me, her blue eyes full of secrets I suddenly wanted to unravel, the reasons didn't seem so clear anymore.
4
PEARL
The fire alarm's sudden wail made me jump. In three years, I'd never heard it go off in our building.
The shrill sound drew my attention outward.
Then I saw them—two men strode in, stepping over my unconscious guards. They moved like hunters, just like Vittorio's men. But these men were different. Twins, with blond hair and sharp features like mirror images of each other. Something fluttered in my stomach as I cataloged the details—a nervous habit I'd developed over years of needing to notice every imperfection before Vittorio did.
"No—" The word came out as a whimper. I backed away until my spine hit the wall.
The one with longer hair stepped forward. "Stay quiet and do what we say."
His brother moved to block the doorway. "We're not here to kill you." His voice was quieter, almost gentle. "But we need to move. Now."