Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Now I got angry. “This is stupid—”
“Just shut up and give me a chance.” She took a shaky step forward, her arms still raised. Her foot wobbled when it touched the hardwood floor. She took another step and shook from side to side like she balancing on a balance beam.
We’ll never get to breakfast at this rate.
She made it through the door and into the hallway but then her legs shook even more. Her atrophied legs couldn’t handle her light weight and she slowly tipped and began to fall.
I caught her and swooped her into my arms. “It’s a good start. You’ll get better.”
“I can make it. Just be patient.”
“If you fall over every few feet then you aren’t going to make it.” I carried her down two flights of stairs and knew she would have tumbled to the bottom if I let her go on her own. “But give it some time. You’re still healing.” I carried her into the dining room and set her down. “What do you want?” I sat across from her and waited for Lars to walk in. He always knew exactly what room I was in without looking. He had a special butler capability.
“Do you think Lars can make French toast?”
I tried not to scoff. “He can make anything.”
Right on cue, Lars entered. “Miss Pearl, I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”
“Thanks, Lars.” She gave him a genuine smile, the kind she’d never given me. “I’m glad you’re well too.”
He nodded. “What can I get you this morning?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, can we have French toast?”
Lars had been smitten with her from the beginning. Her obvious respect for the help and polite way of asking for things made her the star of the mansion. “Of course. And you, sir?” He turned to me, his hands behind his back.
“I’ll take the usual.” Egg whites and coffee.
“Very good, sir.” He nodded before he walked out.
Button turned to me, a disappointed look on her face. “Don’t you get tired of eating that every single day?”
“Do you get tired of eating me every single day?” I held her gaze with ferocity.
“Not the same thing.”
“I think so.” I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “What did you want to do today?”
“Not much I can do. I’m a cripple.”
“Not true. We can do anything you want.”
“You aren’t tired of spending time with me?” she asked in surprise. “You usually prefer solitude ninety percent of the time.”
All of that changed when she almost died. “Now I prefer you ninety percent of the time.”
***
Instead of running like anyone else, Cane opened the door like a man. He faced me with a hard look and clenched jaw, pissed I shot him and desperate to do the same back to me. He stared at me without speaking, the warning in his eyes.
Looking at him just ticked me off. I wanted to put a bullet in each one of his limbs and watch him bleed out just as he did to Button. He deserved a fate worse than what she had to go through.
When I didn’t utter a word, he spoke. “You here to kill me?”
“Maybe.”
He leaned against the door, gauze wrapped around his upper arm where the bullet hit him. “Then get it over with.” He stepped away from the entryway, leaving the door open so I could follow him inside.
He had a house near the headquarters in Florence. He preferred the big city with people and cobblestone walkways between buildings. The great outdoors and wide open spaces simply weren’t his taste.
I followed behind him and walked into his open living room. The back wall was made entirely of windows and looking into the backyard with flowers and grass. It was small, but for Florence it was enormous.
Cane grabbed his glass of scotch from the counter and downed it like I wasn’t there.
Even though he was my brother I still wanted to kill him. I wanted to murder him right on the spot. Button had become an intricate part of my life. When she hurt, I hurt. Living with her for six months made me oddly attached to her.
“Can we get this shit over with?”
I took off my jacket and tossed it on the back of the chair. “She almost died.”
“Good. That was the point.”
My knuckles turned white because my fists were so tight. “And what did that accomplish?”
“Pissed off Bones. I sent the pictures to him.”
He took pictures of her? “You’re a sick motherfucker.”
“No. I just want revenge for Vanessa. You remember her, right? Our sister?”
“Don’t go there right now.” My gun was hooked into the back of my jeans and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
“You keep acting like I’m the bad guy but you’re the one who screwed everything up. We made a plan and I stuck to the course. It’s not my problem that you fell in love with this stupid whore.”