Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I jerked my arm away from him as I spat, “Then how did his necklace end up in your yard?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s only complicated because you’re making it complicated. It’s very simple. Either you killed him, or you didn’t.”
“I’m not a murderer, Everleigh.”
“Then what are you?”
He inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m a cleaner.”
“A cleaner?” I took a step back and let his words resonate for a moment. At first, his response seemed absolutely ludicrous, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it actually made. It not only explained his unorthodox behavior and his unusual basement, but it also explained how he’d found me. “You’re like the guy in the movies? You get rid of bodies and clean away all the evidence of blood so the cops won’t find it?”
“It’s a bit more complex than that, but yeah. That’s about right.” He clenched his fists nervously at his side as he added, “But you need to understand something. These aren’t good people that I’m taking care of. They’re all criminals.”
“What about me? I’m not a criminal.” Billy looked like I’d punched him in the gut when I said, “Just how many innocent people have ended up in your hands?”
“You’re the first.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He didn’t answer, but I could tell by the expression on his face that I’d hit a nerve. It seemed warranted since he’d struck one with me. I had my suspicions, but I had to ask, “So, what about Matteo? Is he okay or...”
His face twisted into a grimace, and I knew I had my answer. Tears started streaming down my face as I cried, “Oh, God. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Billy didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I knew I was right. I could see it in his eyes. “But how? What happened to him? Was it DeLuca?”
I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I just kept rambling. It was the only way I could keep myself from having a complete breakdown. “He was such a sweet kid. He had his whole life ahead of him, and it was ripped away from him. I can’t believe DeLuca did this. Wait... if Matteo is dead and his necklace is here, that means you gotta be DeLuca’s cleaner.”
He didn’t respond.
He just stood there silently staring at me as I put all the pieces together.
His eyes were fixed on mine as I asked, “And if you’re DeLuca’s cleaner, then you were there the night I was shot. That’s how I ended up here. You were supposed to get rid of me, but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But why didn’t you?”
“You weren’t dead. You were badly wounded and suffering with every breath, but you were alive and holding on.” His voice was strained as he explained, “You were a fighter and determined to live, and as I told you before, I’m no murderer.”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I believed everything he said, but it was a lot to take in. I was struggling to accept it. It shouldn’t have been that hard. I knew Billy was different. I’d seen it in all his little quirks and odd little side-glances, but of all the crazy ideas I’d had about him, I’d never once imagined that Billy was a cleaner.
And not only that, but he was a cleaner for men like Antonio DeLuca.
I should’ve been horrified by the thought, but I wasn’t.
Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel about any of it.
While his choice of occupation was troubling, I wasn’t afraid of Billy. I’d been around monsters before—men like DeLuca and the people he worked with. They’d come into his office, and I could literally feel the evil radiating off them. Just being near them would send a cold chill down my spine, and I had to fight the urge to get up and run away from them.
I’d never felt that with Billy—not once.
Instead, I felt safe, protected, and more times than I care to admit, I actually felt drawn to him. The whole thing confused the hell out of me, and I needed to think things through. I looked over to Billy, and the second our eyes met, I told him, “I need some time. Can you give me that?”
He gave me a quick nod, then watched as I turned and started up the porch steps. I’d just opened the door to go inside when I heard him call out, “Everleigh?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“I’m sorry, too. He was a sweet kid.” I swallowed back my tears as I muttered, “He didn’t deserve to die.”
Without saying anything more, I went straight to my room and let the door close behind me. I dropped face first onto the bed, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I let the tears fall freely. Letting myself cry ended up being a mistake because once I started, I couldn’t stop.