Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Earlier, after dropping her off, I called Carmine. We met up outside of Craig’s house. The agent was supposed to meet us there with his buddies, but there was nothing, no sign of any of them. Eventually, I broke into Craig’s house and found his body lying on the floor, his arms crossed over his chest. Like someone posed him there.
I knew it was Burian. Now I see the game. Now I understand how he played us all from the start.
I thought the feds would be enough. I was wrong.
I was a fool.
Maybe blinded by my own desperate need to right the sins of my past. Burian’s always been the one ghost I haven’t been able to purge from my soul, and I’ve been stalking him for years, hoping that by catching him, my life might change.
Renata showed me I don’t need forgiveness.
Change is here, right here, at my fingertips. Change is being with Renata, moving back home, settling down for once in my life. Change is building a life with this woman, this amazing, intelligent, beautiful, funny, challenging woman. Change is growing, finally, after all this time.
But it’s being stolen from me.
I crash into her house. The foyer’s empty. There’s another scream, curdling my blood, making me sick. I pound toward the living room, burst into the space, and raise my gun.
Burian shoots first. I throw myself sideways, but the bullet tears into my shoulder. I grunt in pain, firing back. Burian’s already ducking down behind a chair. Behind Renata’s grandfather, slumped to the side, looking sickly. Blood spills down around him, onto the floor.
“Ren!” I shout, crawling to where she’s sprawled nearby. I can’t tell if she’s hurt, if she’s hit, if she’s alive or dead. My world’s been sucked into a pinprick, and I can’t think about Burian. I can’t think about anything but her.
I have a choice to make.
Barely ten feet away, Burian’s hiding behind a dead old man. I could focus on him, catch him, finally purge him from my soul. I could help the world by ending his life here and now.
Burian’s been everything to me.
But he’s not any longer.
Instead, I can’t bring myself to pay any attention to him. There’s only Renata for me now.
“Lanzo,” she whispers as I cradle her into my lap. “You’re here.”
“You’re okay,” I say, pulling her to my chest.
More gunshots go off. I look up at Carmine crouched nearby, gun raised. I catch a glimpse of Burian escaping into the back rooms. It’s not too late to chase him, not too late to finish all this, except the thought of leaving Renata alone breaks my heart and makes me sick.
Carmine turns to me, rushing over. “Is she okay?” he asks.
“She’s okay,” I say, hugging her protectively. “Go after him.”
Carmine nods, sparing only a glance for the old man, but we both know it’s too late for him. Too much blood. Too far gone. He rushes after Burian, disappearing into the back room.
“What happened?” I ask, holding her tightly. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she whispers, touching my face. An ugly bruise is forming around her eye. Rage fills me like hot air, and all I want to do is rush off after Burian. “Lanzo. Grandpop.”
Those two words deflate some of my anger. “I know,” I say, trying to be as soothing as I can. “I know, baby, I know.”
“We need an ambulance,” she whispers, crying now. “Please, Lanzo.”
“Oh, baby,” I say, hugging her tight. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Please,” she says, choking. Sobbing. “You have to help him.”
I kiss her, wipe her tears, and shuffle over to the old man. I glance back at her as I check his pulse, grimacing at the pain in my own wound.
There’s nothing.
“Please,” she moans, crying so hard she looks like she might break.
I gather her into my arms. I pull her against my chest. “I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry.”
She has no more words. There’s only a pure, raw, animal mourning, rushing from her throat as she cries and cries against my chest.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but her pain becomes my pain. I feel it like a stab, worse than the wound in my shoulder. Soon, she pulls back, wiping herself. “Oh my god,” she whispers, touching where the bullet hit me. “You’re shot.”
“I’m fine.” I flinch when she prods it. Fucking thing hurts. I hate getting shot.
“You’re not fine. You’re really not fine! We need a doctor.” She shuffles back, getting to her feet. “Lanzo—”
More gunfire erupts nearby. This time, there’s shouting, then a sudden quiet descends. I force myself up, ignoring the pulsing agony, pretending like my head isn’t swimming. I stumble toward the back hallway, but Renata intercepts me.
“Just stop,” she says, holding me back. “You can’t do everything yourself.”