Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
As soon as I pull it open, I run, sheet and clothes in hand, not worrying about anything but getting away.
That’s the smart thing to do, but no one said I was a smart woman. I never claimed to be, but right now, I know I have to run.
The doorman of the hotel looks at me, shocked. So I pull the sheet tighter around me and get into the taxi that’s waiting out front, thankfully.
I rattle off my address and don’t dare look back.
ELEVEN
Zuko
“Let me guess. She ran.” Kyson laughs as I sit across from him at the round mahogany table. He has a glass in front of him that he isn’t touching. His leg starts bouncing while he smirks at me. If he wasn’t my brother, I would hit him. Fucking hard.
Kenzo says nothing as he sits next to Kyson, just observing like he does best. If I wasn’t in a mood, I might find it amusing that we’re all sitting on ornate white chairs trimmed with gold that look like they came out of a fucking Victorian movie. They must be the real deal because the dainty as fuck legs isn’t buckling under our weight. Who booked this place anyway.
“She ran,” I confirm.
“You didn’t try drowning her, did you?” He raises a brow at his question.
“Nope.”
“So what did you do? They all want a piece of you till they find out how crazy you are.”
I grin, thinking about how hard she came, the way her back arched and her eyes squeezed shut. It’s been a few weeks since that night, but Kyson hasn’t asked about it until now.
“None of your goddamn business.”
“Aw, come on, you always tell.”
“Not about this one.”
“She did seem a little crazy. Maybe that’s what you need… Someone crazy like you.”
I don’t respond.
There is no need for any more words.
I don’t always share what’s happening in my life with my brothers. They may be ruthless and the most loyal of fuckers to ever have existed, but some things I keep to myself.
Like Sage…
Standing and walking away, I take my phone with me. Kyson yells out as I leave, but I pay him no attention as I close the door behind me and go straight for the bed. We’re in a different hotel tonight with a new job at hand.
We don’t take a lot of jobs anymore, but when we do, we get paid a substantial amount. And when I say substantial, I mean in the millions.
We’re worth it.
We will hunt down your prey when no one else can.
Then we will kill them.
And the body will never be discovered unless it’s required. We hardly ever outsource. A few know of what we do, but those who are informed would take it to their grave. Grayson is one of those men. He owns a club full of people fucking, some would call it a promiscuous club, a place full of desires, but I like to keep it simple, it’s a sex club. He grew up with us and came from the same neighborhood. And he’s almost as fucked-up as us because of it. Almost.
Pressing call on my phone, it rings three times before I hear her sexy voice. “You’ve reached Sage from You Beat It, We Spit It. First, let’s start with your name.”
“Zuko.”
I hear her breath suck in on the other end at the mention of my name.
It’s been a few weeks since I called her.
And how I have missed her sweet sexy voice.
“I thought you would stop calling,” she says.
“Do you want me to?” When she doesn’t reply after a few moments, I ask, “Have you missed me?”
“I don’t know.” I hear the surprise in her voice. “Have you missed me?”
“I’ve been thinking about another woman. Would you consider that cheating? That it’s her who I want to bend over right now and fuck.”
“So why did you call me?”
“Because I like to hear you come.” And I tell no lies. I do, very much so. I’m pretty sure she uses a vibrator on the other end of that phone, and her voice picks up and gets harsher as she comes. “Can I text you?” I ask. “If I want to call and can’t, can I text?”
“The same rates still apply,” she states. “Regardless of text or call.”
“I don’t care about the cost.” I growl out the words becoming impatient. “If I paid you enough, would you send me a picture of yourself?”
“Depends on the price.”
The door bursts open, and Kyson stands there dressed in his usual black suit. “Get the fuck up, it’s go time.”
“Who was that?” she asks.
“I’ll text you,” I tell her, then end the call.
“You found him?” Kyson nods as Kenzo rolls up his sleeves showcasing his arms which are covered in ink before he opens his phone, typing out something, barely looking up at us as we leave.