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, keeping my facial expression impassive. “Another talent, Orson.”
“Indeed. I don’t like it.”
Again, I shrugged.
“You took your time getting here. The snow ended two days ago.” His voice held a trace of impatience.
“I wasn’t exactly within city limits.”
“Where exactly were you?”
I pulled a folded piece of newspaper out of my jacket pocket, tossing it on his desk. “Nowhere that exists anymore.”
He reached out, snagging the article, a cold, emotionless smile on his face as he read about the farmhouse burned to the ground, located in the opposite direction of where I had actually been staying. Sean had been right when he said Orson would want to know where I’d been, and he had paid to have this story planted in the local paper. He thought of everything.
“No survivors?” he asked. “No…extra guests?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Nope.”
He studied me over the newsprint. “For how insistent you were on holding on to the girl, you didn’t keep her around long.”
“I never keep things past their expiry date, Orson. Ever.”
“Not fresh enough for you?”
I steeled myself, making my voice cold and detached. “Not respectful enough.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows rose. “And?”
I pulled the small pouch out of my pants pocket and dumped the contents on the wood. The small items lay on the dark stain, glowing white under the bright lights. He stared at them, his eyes wide.
“I…don’t…like…biters,” I spat out.
His gaze bounced between the teeth lying on his desk and my face, which I knew was dark with fury—but not for the reason he thought it was.
He leaned forward, and I covered the small pieces with my hand. “Mine, Orson. No one touches my trophies but me.” I scooped them up and poured them back into the pouch, replacing it in my pocket. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs and swinging one in what I knew he thought was anger. “Any other questions?”
His face contorted, and he threw his head back, his creepy-ass laughter sending chills down my spine. It was everything he was—dark, twisted, and vile-sounding. I hated his laugh as much as I hated him.
“You, Anthony, are a man I can identify with. We think alike. No one touches my trophies either.”
“I bet you have lots.”
“I might be persuaded to show you one day.”
It took everything in me not to jump up and tell him to show me now. Instead, I feigned nonchalance. “One day. You insisted I come here—so, talk.”
His eyes narrowed. “You try my patience. Don’t make me kill you—it would be a waste of your talent.”
I chuckled low in my throat. “If I wanted, Orson, you’d both be dead before Rex could move his fucking pinkie finger. So either talk, or pay me what you owe and I’ll leave. I don’t really give a shit either way.”
Grudging respect crossed his face. He began to speak again, and I held up my hand.
“Privately.”
Rex growled from his corner.
Orson shook his head. “He stays.”
“I showed you enough respect to come alone, so show me the same and discuss business with me without your lapdog.”
Rex stepped forward, his sheer size menacing without the murderous look on his face. I gazed at him impassively.
Orson tented his fingers. “Leave us, Rex.”
Rex grunted. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
I waited until he had left. “How many cigarettes does he smoke a day?”
Orson shook his head. “None. Over a year ago, there was a fire—purposely set. Rex was protecting me—he saved my life and ended up the one injured. It damaged his vocal cords, left the scars on his face, and affected his eyesight. He almost didn’t make it, and when they took the bandages off, I hardly recognized him. He sacrificed himself for me.”
“That’s loyalty.”
“He is one of the few I trust.”
“I got rid of your mole. What else do you want from me?”
“Rex can’t be everything I need anymore. But he has a job with me until…he doesn’t.”
I didn’t need to know any more. I highly doubted there was a retirement package in Rex’s future.
“So?” I prompted.
“I want you to join me. Work for me.”
I shook my head. “I work for myself. I don’t take orders. From anyone.”
“Consider it a consulting job.”
I pretended to consider it. “Doing?”
“I need more enforcement than Rex can provide. I want to know who planted the mole and make an example of him. I need the reaction your being in my organization will cause.”
“Reaction?”
He leaned forward. “When word gets out we are now a team, the ripples of fear will be…delicious. The great, invisible assassin Anthony Malone within my inner circle?” His fingers bent and twisted. “We’ll be legends.”
“I’m already a fucking legend,” I growled. “I did it on my own. I don’t need you, Orson.” I stood, towering over him. “And I repeat. I don’t work for anyone.”
A glimmer of fear passed over his face, and he jumped to his feet. “I meant no disrespect.”