Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I shrugged in resignation. “And nothing. The trail grew cold. They were never able to pin the murder on anyone.”
“So, how did you get here, then?”
“I finished school. Went to college. I joined the police academy and became a cop. Sean wasn’t happy about it, but he knew I had it in my blood. He met Julia, and they got married. Life sort of moved along. Until…”
“Until?”
“One day, I got called into my superior’s office. I was told there was a special case they needed help on. A hit man, well-known to them, had voluntarily approached them, offering all his secrets.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He was dying. He found out he had six months to live. He wanted to take someone down, and he needed help to do so.”
“How did you fit in?”
I smiled ruefully. “Tony Malone was known as the Irish Killer, Skylar. He had red hair. And aside from the string of bodies he was rumored to have left behind, that was the only thing that was known about him to the world outside the criminal one. He was not only a killer for hire, but he specialized in stepping in and cleaning house for someone if needed. He never showed his face to anyone who lived to tell about it unless he wanted you to see it. The photos they had of him were few and far between and most of them grainy. All his hits were done with the greatest of secrecy. He was a mystery. A ghost.”
“With red hair.”
I nodded. “I met him and almost fell over. We could have been body doubles. We were the same height and build, and our hair was the same wild, crazy shit—all over the place. Facially, we didn’t look alike, but that didn’t matter. We were even close in age—his, ah, career began very early in life for him.”
“And he wanted this Orson taken down?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It was personal. Orson Valenti wasn’t much older than Tony, but he’d fit a lot of living into those years. Tony had only two loves in his life—killing people and his sister, Gina, whom he adored. Somehow, Orson and Tony’s sister got involved, and he got her pregnant. When she told him, he told her to take a hike. She killed herself.”
“How awful. Did she know what Tony, ah, did for a living?”
“No. He kept her and his professional life totally separate. Orson never knew she was Tony’s sister. Tony held Orson responsible for her death. He decided he was going to infiltrate his organization and destroy it. Let Orson see it crumble before his eyes, and then, he would kill him. He knew nothing would crush Orson more than seeing his empire fall to ruin. Tony knew he’d have to become visible in order for it to happen, and he started moving forward with his plans.” I paused. “But time ran out for him.”
“So he decided he needed to make it happen, regardless.”
I nodded. “Tony was not only a terrifying criminal, he was completely OCD. He wrote everything—and I mean everything—down. Every hit. Every kill. Every conversation. He had it all.” I looked at Skylar. “And he knew about me.”
“What?”
“He knew who I was. He was the one who murdered my dad.”
Skylar’s eyes widened. “But…”
“It was a hit for Orson. Remember the pocket watch I was telling you about?”
She nodded.
“Orson Valenti is the worst kind of criminal,” I sneered. “He plays with people’s lives. He decides who lives and dies if you cross his path. And he likes to collect things to help him remember, because he’s a sick, twisted fuck. He had Tony remove my dad’s pocket watch and send it to him. It has our family crest on it. The same one both Sean and I have tattooed on our shoulders.
“When Tony was making his plans, he saw me one day, running. He said my hair caught his eye. He followed me, and he saw the crest on my shoulder. He remembered my dad and the watch. It didn’t take him long to put it all together, and he knew he had the way of bringing Orson down.”
“Your hair is unusual. It’s such a bright red.”
I smiled ruefully. “I got it from my mother’s side of the family. My dad was Italian, but my mom was Irish. Hence, the hair and the name. It drove me crazy all my life. I always stood out in pictures and crowds. I wore a hat most of my teenage years.”
Skylar smiled.
“I grew out of it. It has actually darkened a bit as I grew older, but it is still very—” I stopped speaking and shrugged.
“Red,” she finished. “Like his.”
“Yes.”
“So, you became him.”
“I spent the last months of his life with him. I immersed myself in his history until I knew I could be him and do this.”