Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“I think it adds character.”
He ties off the final knot.
I glance back down, not pretty but at least I won’t bleed out.
I pick my shirt back up but don’t put it on yet as I head back to Patrick.
“You know why you’re here?” I ask.
He shakes his head frantically.
“I need to find your boss.” I grab a metal chair and drag it across the concrete floor. Hurts like a bitch, but I push down the pain. Can’t show any weakness.
I sit in front of him.
Rafe stands beside my chair, arms folded, enjoying the show.
“I don’t know anything.”
I lean forward slightly. “You know where Doyle is…”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know—”
I backhand him.
Not hard enough to knock him out, just hard enough to make him reconsider lying to me.
“Try again.”
He coughs blood onto his shirt. “I don’t know—” he gasps.
I nod to Rafe, and then my gaze meets the pliers on the small cart he’s rolled in. If Patrick is going to play games, I’m all in.
Rafe hands me the pliers, and I step forward slowly just to be an asshole, then pull of his thumb nail.
Patrick lets out a scream.
The sound is music to my ears as I reach for his pointer. Then pull that one off.
By the time I’m with his whole right hand, he’s shaking so hard I think if the chair wasn’t screwed to the floor, it would topple over.
“You want to ship him back in pieces or send a message?” Rafe asks from beside me, eliciting another scream from our guest.
With that settled, I stand slowly. My side throbs. “Pieces.”
Rafe nods.
“Doyle. Doyle will lead you to him,” Patrick shouts as if his answer will save him. It won’t.
I smile faintly. “Good. Now kill him.”
“No—”
Rafe is quick to shut him up with a slice to the throat.
All in a day’s work.
47
Victoria
One snowflake.
Then another.
Next thing I know, it’s handfuls swirling in the darkness.
It hardly looks real.
It almost feels like I’m in a movie. Where giant fake flakes float down from the sky, blanketing the ground with artificial fluff.
But this is real.
I stand at the living room window with my arms wrapped around myself, watching the world turn white in a matter of minutes. The driveway disappears first, then the stone steps.
It’s almost insane how fast it’s coming down now.
But at least it’s beautiful.
Behind me, the fireplace pops, sending orange light across the hardwood floor.
Despite how big Lorenzo’s place is, right now it reminds me of a Christmas cottage in a movie. The air even smells like pine trees and burning leaves. I love it. Not that I’d let him know it.
“Enjoying the apocalypse?” Speak of the devil.
I don’t turn right away. Nope.
I plan to play it cool, so I make myself count to three first.
When I finally pivot, he’s leaning against the archway with a calm look on his face.
Damn, this man is handsome.
It’s actually infuriating.
Everything about him is perfect, even when he doesn’t try.
Right now, his hair is slightly damp, like he’s been outside, yet he looks dashing. I’d look like a hot mess. It’s not fair.
Rafe stands farther back in the hall, half his body in the shadows. Even though I can’t see all of him, I can see that his coat is on and that he has a phone pressed to his ear.
His eyes flick over me once before he turns away again, muttering into the call.
Lorenzo tilts his glass toward the window, eyes glinting in the firelight. “How’s this for a honeymoon? A little late, but better late than never.”
My laugh comes out sharp and bitter. “I wouldn’t call this anything.”
The wind howls outside.
Rafe’s voice drifts in from the hall, strained. “Road’s closed. County says we are getting a shit ton of snow, but the plows won’t come up until morning.”
Lorenzo doesn’t even look at him. He lifts his glass, takes a slow sip, then lets the silence stretch.
Rafe clears his throat. “Power’s stable for now. Generator’s full. We’ve got food for . . . plenty.”
“Plenty,” I echo, forcing a smile. “Wonderful. I’m thrilled to be trapped in a snow globe with my husband.”
Lorenzo’s eyes flick to my mouth, then back up. “Try not to sound too excited.”
Rafe shifts, gaze dropping to the floor. “I’ll check the perimeter,” he tells Lorenzo before disappearing down the hall.
I lift my chin, meeting Lorenzo’s gaze head-on. “This was planned.”
His brow arches. “You think I control the weather now?”
“I think you control everything you can,” I shoot back, stepping around the coffee table like I’m circling a predator. “And when you can’t control something, you pretend it’s a coincidence.”
He watches me move with slow interest. “You’re giving me a lot of credit.”
“You like getting credit for things.” I stop near the mantel. “Must be your love language.”
His eyes glint. “You’re still talking. That must be yours.”
I inhale slowly, forcing my body to unclench.