Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
The sound of Little Johnny moving behind him had Joey shutting the backdoor and turning. “All good?”
Johnny nodded. “Luciano is just a few blocks away.”
Headlights flashed across them, but Joey knew it was Luciano. The car came to a stop behind Joey’s, and then Luciano climbed out. Another man came out of the passenger side, and without saying anything, just tipping their chins in acknowledgment, Luciano and his partner went into the alleyway to clean up.
“You want me to take care of her?” Johnny asked. He reached in his coat for a cigarette, and stared at Joey.
“No, the only one taking care of her is me.”
Johnny nodded. “Understood.”
Joey climbed into the driver’s seat, and Johnny headed over to his car. Joey adjusted the rearview mirror so he could look at Marra. What in the hell was he going to do with her?
6
The gun pointed to her head was warm, and it burned her skin. She wanted to scream, but it was like rocks were lodged in her throat, making it impossible to do anything but stare in horror as her life was about to be taken from her.
Marra would be snuffed out like a candle, and there wouldn’t be anyone that would care if she was gone. But then that fear was made real by the warm coating of blood on her face, and the intensity of the situation slammed into her. She could smell it: metallic, tangy, and rancid.
Marra shot up, her head throbbing, pounding like a drum was inside of her skull, and then her stomach roiled. She could still smell the blood, could feel it on her skin and hair. She rolled to her side and emptied her stomach.
Taking her shirt she lifted the edge to wipe her mouth. She felt marginally better, but the night’s events played through her mind like a broken record on repeat.
“You thirsty?” The deep voice came from the shadows.
Marra pushed herself up, and realized she wasn’t in that back alley, but on a bed. Swallowing hard, and feeling like razor blades were in her throat, she glanced around the room quickly. A large window showed the city right outside, and judging by the light of the tops of the skyscrapers and the night sky, she knew she was high up in an apartment.
The lights were off, but the light from the city came through and showed her a massive room with the standard bedroom décor: dresser, mirror, end tables, bed, and the bathroom off to the side. But the furnishings looked posh and expensive.
“Where am I?” she asked and stared at the massive form that made up Joey. He leaned forward in his seat and rested his forearms on his thighs. He stared at her, and this sinister air surrounded him, crawled forward, and tried to wrap itself around her, too. And then light illuminated the room, and she closed her eyes momentarily at the harshness of it.
When she opened her eyes again it was to see that he had turned on the lamp that sat on the small table beside him. He held her gaze with his own, didn’t show any emotion at all, and she felt the chill in the room intensify.
“Well, where am I and what happened?” She swallowed, seeing visions in her head of what had happened, but also finding these black holes in her memory. Maybe it was from the shock, or from the trauma, or from the entire screwed up situation.
“If you’re thirsty I put a water bottle by the bed.” He stood and walked over to the dresser.
She glanced at the table beside her, saw the bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin, and immediately turned her focus back on Joey. He was undoing his cuffs, and then rolling them up his thick, muscular forearms. He then went to remove his tie, set it on the dresser, and undid the buttons of his shirt at the collar. But he was watching her through the reflection in the mirror. His focus was hard, unrelenting, but most of all unreadable.
“Your head has to be hurting.” He turned around and leaned against the dresser, and crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps flexed when he did the act, and she could see the definition under the white material. “Drink the water and take the aspirin, and then I’ll answer your questions.” His tone brooked no argument, but her head and wrist were killing her, so she didn’t bother saying anything in retaliation to his domineering attitude.
She looked down at her wrist that she had landed on and saw the black and blue bruise that crept out from under the bandage he’d clearly wrapped it in while she was out. “You did this?” She held up her hand. It was more of a statement than a question, because obviously he had been the one to do it.