Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Put them on each other. Hands behind backs.”
“This your kink?” one grunts.
I adjust my aim, and that gets the job done. When they’re both cuffed, I reach into my other pocket and take out the syringes.
“If I were you,” I growl, “ I’d walk as far from this place as you can before it kicks in. Or I can shoot you here. Your choice.”
They tremble, but they don’t move. They know there’s no use fighting. I’m doing this for the city. For my dogs. For Maya, my dream.
I walk down the hallway toward the room at the back. Music comes from the main bar, but the door at the end is slightly open, showing a sliver of light. As I get closer, the door suddenly opens.
My instincts snap me into place. Moving quickly, I press myself against the wall of a nearby corridor, my back to it, watching as Officer Ramirez walks away. She’s got her shoulders back, looks pissed. I’m glad she’s leaving. I don’t kill women.
Once she’s gone, I move toward the room. Voices come from behind the now half-open door.
“…any damn thing we want, and there’s nothing they’re going to do about it!”
“You’re right, Tony. Anything.”
“No kids? Ha. If I want to create an army of fucking toys for the rich and powerful, I will.”
“You’re right, Tony. Just maybe go easy on that talk in front of the men. Some of them have families.”
“Are you talking back to me now?”
“No. No, sir.”
“Good.”
When I kick the door open, they look so weak, so pathetic. Shame twists as I consider how I contributed to these men’s riches. I helped them justify it and excuse the evil.
“Who the fuck a—”
My bullet cuts through the don’s, Tony’s, face, and then I hit the consigliere twice in the chest. Voices start shouting behind me. I spin, drop to one knee, and fire two more shots that hit their mark. The man hits the floor with blood spurting from his neck and chest.
“Everyone out!” I roar and hear them scurrying away, desperate to find someplace to hide.
They act tough. They act like they know what it means to fight and bleed. But I saw my friends die. I heard my dog’s final howl. Do they seriously think they ever stood a goddamn chance?
“Puh-please,” the don whispers from behind me.
I spin, staring down in shock. He’s got a bullet in his face, but somehow, he’s forming these words.
“Ooh-rah,” I grunt, putting a bullet in the center of his head, my ears ringing.
Now, it’s time to burn this place to the ground.
“Stop,” somebody yells from the end of the hallway.
I turn to find… Oh, shit, maybe fate is real. It’s Carlo, the bastard who drugged my Maya, my dream. He’s aiming his pistol at me as he tries to look like he’s ready for this. But I’ve been prepared far longer—ready to kill him the moment he dosed Maya.
“No,” I grunt.
“Are you nuts?” he yells. “I’ll blow y—”
He fires a shot that misses me by mere inches, as I drop to my stomach. I hit the floor hard, but it gives me the angle and the time. Emptying my extended magazine, I fill the bastard with bullets.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MAYA
The following day, I’m at home taking a shower. My cell phone is set on loud, resting on the closed toilet seat in case the hospital contacts me. Last night, I ended up falling asleep around three a.m. It’s eight now. I only came back so I could quickly shower.
My phone is playing the radio. It’s my effort to get my mind off of everything.
Outside, beyond the shower noise and the thumping of my heart, it’s started to rain heavily. It hammers against the window as if somebody is engaging in some good old-fashioned pathetic fallacy, trying to get the weather to match my mood.
After my shower, I carry my phone into the bedroom and lie on my towel, feeling bone tired. Every minute of sleep I missed hits me all at once. The music ends, and the radio host says, “What a tune, what a vibe. In less groovy news, The Rat Pack Retreat, a bar commonly associated with the Trentini crime Family, has burned down. Official reports state that gang violence is the suspected reason.”
My heart thunders as I take in the radio host’s words. I sit up, remembering yesterday how serious and intense Tristan was. It was like he was getting ready to rip the world apart.
I want to know if he had anything to do with it. Or, if it was gang-on-gang crap, then Tristan wasn’t at the bar. I can only pray he wasn’t there and that he’s okay.
Luna yawns from the bottom of the bed, readjusting her position to better form her body to Loki’s. The two little dogs have become fast friends.