Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
We drove through the neighborhood, getting acclimated to the surroundings, passing by Mitchell's house as well.
His was almost twice the size of his son's which made sense since he was the one raking in five-hundred a month from each client. I was sure he had hundreds of them. It was a bit closer to the street with a curved stone driveway and gates. The house itself was two floors with a front of pristine deep red bricks with white stone accents. Through a window above the front door, you could see the sprawling horseshoe staircase leading up to the second floor.
"Living large on other peoples' misery," Edison's voice rumbled through the silent car as I drove it up a block and parked on the main drag beside a closed, but operational mechanic shop so that it wouldn't look suspicious to anyone around to see a strange car around.
"Alright." We all reached for our doors in unison, stepping out into the night air, feeling it bite at our exposed skin as we started the quick five minute walk toward Chris' house.
"No," Pagan said, shaking his head when we made a move toward the side door, pointing instead to an entrance that was through the side of the garage.
Edison reached into the back pocket of his jeans, producing what pretty much anyone would recognize as a lock pick set, bending down, and getting to work.
Having very little idea of his past, I was left to wonder if he had been someone who did B&E's. It didn't seem to fit his character. He seemed to have a pretty north-facing moral compass.
Maybe it was simply a skill he picked up so he could break into abusive pimps' houses and beat the ever-loving shit out of them.
That seemed to fit.
All of twenty seconds passed in tense silence, hyper aware to every night sound, alert for anything that might suggest someone had seen or heard us.
But then the door pushed open and Edison stepped inside, leaving me and Pagan with nothing to do but follow.
It was at least three in the morning and the house was silent as Edison worked the interior lock and let us into a hall with sleek dark hardwood floors, neutral wall color, and three doors off the sides. One was a half bath, another the laundry, and the third a utility space.
Edison fell back, recognizing that while we were on equal footing in the MC, this was my revenge and letting me know that he was happy to follow orders. Even if his bloodthirst was still a heady, palpable thing in the air around us.
I jerked my chin to the staircase, wincing a bit at the fact that it was all hardwood- no carpeting to muffle the pound of our boots on the surface. I prayed silently that Chris was a deep sleeper as we all moved up, the floorboards creaking our presence.
I was almost surprised when someone didn't come out waving a gun as we all stopped at the top landing, trying to decide which way to go. To the left was three doors. To the right, only two. Figuring two meant it was likely the master bedroom and maybe a closet, we moved in that direction.
My hand reached for the knob, cold to the touch, and I exhaled hard to settle my nerves as I finally pushed it open.
And there was Dr. Chris Andrews asleep on his king-sized bed in ridiculous as fuck blue and white striped silk pajamas. There was white noise from a Hepa machine to one side of the bed and mist from a humidifier at the other.
I almost wanted to laugh.
Yeah, some real hardened fucking criminal with a goddamn sinus problem and germ phobia.
"Pagan, this one is yours."
I had no interest in him. Yeah, he was part of an evil trifecta, but he was the least awful in my eyes.
"No." Edison's growl stopped Pagan halfway into a step forward, making him pivot and raise a brow at him. "That's the one who grabbed her at Hex. I want him."
To that, Pagan shrugged, happy to take Mitchell when I tossed him at him, not really caring who he got to pound into, just happy to do some beating.
It was right about that second too that Dr. Chris Andrews got startled awake by noises that weren't his stupid machines.
His eyes flew open, his body shooting upward on the bed. "What the..."
But he didn't get to finish his question.
One second, Edison was right by my side.
The next, he was dragging the man off the bed and slamming him into the wall.
From there- he got what was coming to him.
Pagan moved away from me and out into the hall, making me follow him out, curious.
"Gonna cut the phone lines," he shrugged, producing a pocketknife from his boot and heading downstairs.