Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I looked at Cassie and saw the fear in her eyes. Now she understood the sort of man I was.
Monster, beast.
“They’re not enough. Oisin himself has to pay the price, but he hasn’t been seen in public since that night three years ago.”
“That’s where I come in.” Her lips hung open. So full, so plump. Delicious, undeniable.
My pretty wife.
“That’s right. You’re the bait. I’m not sure if you realize this or not, but your father’s been very active in the MacKenna family in the last couple of years, and I believe he’s important enough to get me a meeting. One meeting is all I need.”
“You keep saying that you think my father cares about me, but you’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.” I gestured at the blood. “The Italians and the Russians, they were the original idea. I wanted to use them to burn the MacKenna family to the ground. Kill them all, one by one, until Oisin was the only man left standing. But you’re a much simpler solution.”
She closed her eyes. “I think I want to go home now.”
I stepped through the blood. I left red footprints as I approached her.
“Your home is my home now. You know that, right?”
“I know.” She shook her head. “I still want to go.”
“Then we’ll go, but not to the bunker. I have more business in the city.”
“Where then?”
“I told you I have an apartment overlooking Central Park. You’ll stay there tonight.”
She nodded dully, like she wasn’t processing much. Most likely in shock.
“Whatever you want.”
In other circumstances, those three words would thrill me.
Instead, I only reached out a hand. She took it and stood. I led her out into the hall and back down the elevator.
That was enough killing for one night.
19
Cassie
The apartment was ringed with full-length windows. I stood and stared out at the strange lake of green in the center of an urban metropolis of concrete and steel. The contrast was striking, and I ran my fingers down the glass, almost as if I could reach out and touch the trees and feel their rough veins and the wind through my hair.
Instead, I heard that dying man’s final gags as he choked on his own blood.
How many people had I watched die now? Three?
Too many.
But that was life around Roman. I knew it, even if I wanted to pretend like it wasn’t true.
He disappeared somewhere into his apartment the moment we stepped inside. The place was lavishly furnished and surprisingly cozy, with thick rugs and a big white couch around a television and a fireplace. The kitchen gleamed a pristine steel and granite, and the walls were covered in colorful paintings, all of them in abstract shapes and splashes of paint.
His Manhattan apartment cost millions of dollars, with millions more in decoration. And it wasn’t even his main home.
More like a hotel room. A place to sleep.
What was I doing here, embroiled in this mess? And what did I agree to?
He was going to kill Oisin MacKenna. I had vague memories of Oisin and the rest of the MacKenna family, though Dad had worked to keep me away from them as much as possible. I didn’t know why—maybe so I’d remain safe and pure.
So I could be useful to him later. A good bargaining chip. A piece of property to be bought and sold.
Like Dia, poor Dia.
I wondered if me and her were so different.
We could’ve been friends if she weren’t dead.
A cork popped behind me. I jumped and looked over my shoulder. Roman poured two glasses and walked toward me. White wine caught the line and sparkled.
I accepted the drink and took a long sip. Slightly sweet.
“What do you think?” He stood next to me, gazing outside. The sun was down and darkness wreathed the world like that blood gushing from the dying Italian man’s throat.
“It’s pretty.”
“The view’s nice. I don’t spend much time here though. Not as secure as the bunker.”
“We’re safe, aren’t we? Giatno might try something.”
“He won’t make a move yet, not until he’s sure. I wouldn’t worry about him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already have a plan for how I’ll take care of that problem.” He put his glass down on a side table, took my glass, and placed it next to his.
I chewed on my lip hard. I bit down and savored the pain.
It kept me from thinking of that dying man again.
“You’re scared of me now.”
It was a statement, not a question. He could read me so easily.
“I’m afraid of myself.”
He moved closer. I stayed where I was. I didn’t have the energy to fight him tonight.
“Why do you say that?”
“Watching that man die didn’t hurt me like the others did. I thought it would always feel so awful, but this time it was only… I don’t know. It wasn’t that bad.”
He stood behind me, his palms on my shoulders, and his lips grazed my neck. “You’re afraid you’re becoming more like me.”