Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
He was already married when I asked him to marry me.
Oh god, I’m the other woman, aren’t I?
Fucking lovely.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Are you keeping Katana prisoner?
I swallow, keeping my face blank. “No.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
He looks to the side, and I realize Grandma is still here. No wonder he’s on touchy-feely mode. Wouldn’t want his, whatever she is to him, to think he’s taken a second prisoner—not that Katana is a prisoner.
I can’t figure out what she is outside of a pain in my ass.
Grandma walks over, lowering a few options onto the small table before us.
Mino snags a chocolate scone as he throws himself into the chair adjacent to ours, his left leg lifting so his ankle can brace over his right knee.
He’s an attractive man. Nearly as tall as Enzo, but trimmer, and if I had to guess, around the same age. Where Enzo’s hair is the color of coal, Mino’s is a soft, chocolate brown with eyes to match. His jaw is clear of facial hair, and he has a small scar along the left side of his temple that disappears under his curly mop.
Enzo shoves a bowl of blueberries into my lap, facing his most trusted. “Where are we with the Martinez deal?”
“His daughter is due to arrive to the States in four days. The team that will escort her from the landing strip to the drop-off location was chosen, and the contract signed. So far, so good.”
“And the payment?”
Mino reaches into the inner pocket of his white suit jacket, passing over a small manila envelope.
Enzo stretches out, picking it up and glancing inside before tossing it back down.
The two go over several more dealings, not hiding details but not necessarily going into specifics, though sometimes Enzo turns to me to explain what they’re talking about.
Apparently, last night they tracked down a rogue dealer, someone who has been creeping around the lower-level neighborhoods selling specialized software.
Software that was identical to what was stolen from the Bandoni family, Bronx’s family, warehouse. They run a “legit” transport facility, shipping electronics and things all over the States. But really, those trips are a cover, a way for them to connect to satellites along the way, hacking systems and all that other techy shit that’s way over my head. That’s where Bandoni’s real money comes from, the clients who need inside systems they could normally never get into.
I’ve known Torin, Bronx’s dad, all my life. He’s on the Greyson Union and one of my father’s closest friends, though I use that term lightly in this world, so it’s interesting to know he hired Enzo to hunt, and the lion always catches his prey.
It’s an ironic little game Enzo plays, running a highly coveted and sought-out private security company, escorting celebrities, royalty, and more from point A to point B, guaranteeing their safety like no one else can. He’s a hero on paper and a villain on the streets, using all his knowledge and connections covertly to do the exact opposite. He strips people of their safety and is known for his ability to slip through any and every security measure put in place that’s not designed by the man himself.
He deals in death and retribution. He’s the reaper. “The Ghost.” He’s the man you never see coming, that no one lives to tell the tales of. He’s that good. Or his men are, if what Grandma said was true. He doesn’t have to raise his weapon but has people who do it for him. They’re an organization of assassins, an army of unconquerable soldiers.
I knew most of this information from just being a member in this world, maybe had a little more insight being the daughter to Rayo and the sister to Rocklin, though none of it’s a secret, quite the opposite, really. It’s word of mouth that brings the clients in, while simultaneously scaring off those who might dare to make a move against an organization.
Of course, all the deeper details were noted in the file I was given when I was on the hunt for my husband. So yes, when it came to his dealings, I knew exactly what I was getting into with this man.
It’s why I chose him.
If nothing else, I’m quite proud of the strength I’ve tied myself to.
You have a job that needs to be done but don’t trust the men on the other end? Hire the Fikiles.
Have a “job” you need erased from the face of the earth without a trace? Hire the Fikiles.
His men help the transporters transport, the thieves thieve, the murderers murder.
It’s the very reason my father hated him so much. He says Enzo has no loyalty, that he lives by no code, as his work is not limited to a specific set of allies. But is there really a code that matters when blood spilt is nothing more than a matter for the maids in this world?