Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
"What?" he snaps, looking even more confused than before.
"Use a school bus to transport them. No one ever pays fucking attention to a school bus. Haven't you seen those videos? People drive right past that fucking stop sign despite the flashing fucking lights?"
"People pay attention to school buses," he argues, but I'm shaking my head before he finishes speaking.
"Think about the last time you were at a red light behind one. Did you look up at it, or divert your attention so you didn't risk making eye contact with someone else's crotch goblin?"
"I fucking hate kids," he answers.
"See? You didn't look. Even people who have kids don't like other people's kids. They avoid them if they can. School bus," I repeat. "That's the way to go."
He nods as if I've just given him the best information in the world, something he never thought of. There's a gratefulness in his eyes, but it only lasts a second before it's gone, replaced with something that makes me swallow against the sudden closing of my throat.
"Speaking of kids," he says, his voice calm and even as if this is exactly where he was planning to take the conversation since the minute he stepped into this room. "I heard about your mom's passing."
I pull in a ragged breath, wondering if trying to lie now would even be worth the energy it takes.
"Overdose," I mutter. "Knew it would kill her eventually."
His face is blank, with no emotion. There's no sympathy in his eyes, nor a hint of anger.
"And it did," he says, reaching a hand up and pressing a few keys on his computer. "Twenty-eight years ago."
He turns the computer around, the obituary Casper planted online staring me right in the face.
"Bobby," I say, annoyance lacing my tone. "My biological mother isn't who I call mom."
Confusion draws his brows together. "What?"
"She died when I was little. I hardly remember her. The woman I know as my mom, the woman who raised me between my father's beatings, is the one who died recently."
He turns the computer back around in a rush, clearly flustered to think he might've gotten a batch of bad information.
"What's her name?"
Fuck me.
"It wouldn't be in the paper yet. She only died last night."
His eyes find mine once again, and I see the moment his decision is cemented in stone. The outcome would be the same even if I had access to a name and a fake story he could read online for himself.
My fate is sealed.
"Bobby, listen," I begin, trying to convince myself that there's still a way out of this.
I've been in some tight fucking spots while undercover, but I can't recall a single one that made me feel like my life was over, and it was only a matter of time before the man who held that decision in his hand pulled the trigger.
Honestly, it was a good fucking run. I've made a difference in my lifetime, and not many people can say that.
The conference room doors open, and when I look over my shoulder to see the three biggest fucking goons Bobby has under his command walk inside, snarls on their faces, I know that I'll wish for death long before it ever comes.
"The worst fucking part about all of this is that Lyle is your fucking cousin."
I won't blow our cover, no matter how bad shit gets. I can't go to my fucking grave knowing that I betrayed the man I've always loved.
"You have two fucking options," Bobby begins.
"Let me guess?" I ask in a bored tone as I turn my back on the brutal-looking men to give their leader my attention. "Pain and more pain?"
His smile is slow. "You seem to know a lot about how I operate, but no. You can denounce what you think you are, tell me that you were confused, that you were manipulated into doing things you didn't choose."
He places a hand over his heart, sincerity in his tone that doesn't match his recent actions.
"You can take back your power by ridding the world of your abuser."
"Or option two?" I ask, boredom dripping from my words.
"I did that," he confides. "Killed both my mother and father."
Yep, that confession is fucking proof there's no chance I'll leave this compound alive.
"Daddy touched you in your no-no spots, and you killed him because you liked it?"
He narrows his eyes, and he has better control over his emotions than he did earlier when talking about transporting trafficked little girls.
I sense the goons behind me shuffling closer, but they pause when Bobby snaps his eyes up at them, the silent command followed immediately.
"Option two is that you choose to die, gay and proud, right alongside your lover."
I tilt my head a little and stare at him for a long beat. I know he wants me to choose option one. He wants me to betray Zeus. It justifies his own actions if what he said about his parents is true.