Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
A ripple of laughter moves through the room, and I feel myself relax slightly. The speech flows perfectly because I won’t accept any other outcome. I’ve spent weeks preparing, crafting every poignant, heartfelt word until the audience is completely pulled in. When they rise to their feet with thunderous applause, I say, “Thank you. Truly.”
The applause is nice, but it doesn’t feed me the way certain other things in life do. Still, I give them the expected smile as I thrust the golden trophy skyward, pretending it means everything. The applause swells even louder, and finally I’m back beside Francesca.
“That was some speech. Consider me impressed.” She bumps her shoulder against mine before pulling me into a hug. “Good job. No, great job.”
“Thank you, my pet.” I kiss the top of her head, my gaze connecting first with Jay, then the former chief of police, before I offer a bland smile to everyone watching.
Frankie pulls back, studying me with that sharp detective’s eye before turning to flash a brilliant smile at the crowd. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
Like she doesn’t already know. “Just thinking. About The List.”
I feel her body go rigid as she leans into me. “I thought the boys from Hope House were all taken care of. Damien, you promised.”
That’s what I told her, and it wasn’t a lie. “They are,” I assure her truthfully. “The problem is that they aren’t the only ones on The List.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand what I’m really saying. “Do you even want to know more?”
She nibbles her bottom lip, her tell when she’s weighing something carefully. “Nope. But thank you for asking.” Those full, glossy pink lips draw closer until they press against mine. When she pulls back with a soft moan, her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings. “That never gets old.”
“Never,” I agree, pulling her against me while cameras click frantically around us. “Can we get out of here now?”
Her head falls back with that thrilling laugh I love. “You don’t want to meet with your adoring crowd?”
“Fuck no,” I growl, nibbling her ear.
“But Olivia is having so much fun.” She gestures to where my sister stands laughing with a group, looking completely in her element.
“One hour,” I tell her. “And I’m leaving with or without you.”
Something flashes in her eyes before she grabs my lapels, pulling me close. “How about you get out of here right now?” she says, reading me like a book. “Slip into something a little more comfortable?” Her eyebrow wiggles make me want to laugh. “And Olivia and I will join you at the penthouse in about two hours. Is that enough time?” She doesn’t ask for details, but her eyes tell me she knows exactly what’s on my mind.
“Yes, that should be more than enough time. Thank you.” I stare at this woman. This impossible, perfect creature seems too good to be real, like something I conjured up from my twisted mind. “Thank you, kitten.”
“My pleasure.” She kisses both my cheeks and whispers, “go now and be slick about it.”
I smile, shaking hands with professional acquaintances as I make my way out, breathing in the slightly sticky evening air.
Then I’m on the move, catching a cab down the street before jumping out a few blocks later. I repeat this dance several times before stopping to change clothes and collect the tools I need.
Time to scratch another name off The List.
My kit isn’t what it used to be, not since I made that promise to Frankie about keeping things clean and simple. No more spectacles with my enemies. Still, some tools are necessary, and I grab what I need before heading to North Hollywood where the streets stretch wider and quieter at this time of night. The ranch house is easy to find, with its sloped roof and those shabby green shutters that have definitely seen better days.
The driveway sits empty as I cruise past, parking a few blocks away before doubling back on foot. Security is absolute shit here. I slip inside like I’m walking through my own front door, and then I wait.
And wait.
Twenty minutes pass before headlights flash from the street, turning into the driveway before the engine cuts off. I stay perfectly calm because this isn’t the last name on The List, but it’s close. This name isn’t about Olivia’s safety or peace of mind. Oh no. This is pure, stone-cold vengeance.
The front door’s squeaky hinge tells me exactly where my prey is and where he’s heading. Keys drop into the wooden tray beside the front door. He toes off his shoes with a grunt before walking through the living room and into the kitchen to grab a beer. His usual ritual.
I wait in the den, surrounded by a leather sectional and oversized television. When he hits the light switch, a harsh golden light floods the room. His reaction is immediate.