Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Rolling my head around on the roof of this car, I want to slam it into the metal over and over again. “He was paralyzed from the waist down and bleeding out quickly. I was on top of the roof of the car and in no position to take his gun from him.”
“Damn,” Simon says.
“If it helps any, they’re all Russian, and I’ve left them mostly intact,” I say. “We should be able to get their fingerprints and tattoos copied off them to run through your database.”
“James and Johnathan are three minutes out,” Simon says, “Are you injured?”
“That would have been nice of you to ask first, Simon,” I say, smirking into the phone.
If I can’t fuck.
Can’t torture.
Can’t maim or kill.
At least I’m able to annoy Simon.
“Are you injured?” Simon asks venomously.
“Not seriously. Only a small headache from the airbag,” I say and take stock of the rest of my body. “And I’ll need a Band-Aid for my middle finger. I have a slight gash there.”
The line goes dead after I hear Lucifers deep booming laughter echo through the phone.
Looking down at the phone again, I feel a sudden deep-seated terror rising in my chest.
Eden.
Mistakes were made when I stole her phone.
Fuck.
Rolling to my side then off the roof of the BMW, I drop down to my feet.
The world isn’t spinning and I don’t see any hazy shit.
I probably don’t have a concussion.
Walking around to where the dead man rests against the car, I look at the blood splatter that arced up from his head.
Three Russians, only three fucking men in this hit squad.
Did they really think these fucking amateurs would be able to take me out?
Or were they just a fucking decoy…
My heart drops even further in my chest and a sick feeling begins to roll around inside my stomach.
Looking up at the sound of racing engines, I check the mag of my Glock before moving to a more defensive position behind the BMW. There are no sirens. It could be James and Johnathan, or a battalion of Russians, for all I know.
I don’t have long to wait before a big pickup truck and a black BMW race into the parking lot.
Holstering my gun, I move to stand in front of the Russian’s BMW.
When James pulls up closer to me, I run over and pull the door open for him, snarling, “Get the fuck out.”
“Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you?” James growls, pushing me back and away from him as he stands up from the car.
“My wife,” I say and jump in the driver’s seat.
“Your what?!” James asks in clear confusion.
Johnathan is running around his truck to see what’s happening, when I say, “Johnathan will take you home. I need to get to Eden.”
Slamming the door shut, I look behind me and spot the car seat in the back of his car. A lump forms in my throat and I can feel the rage burning through my body as I slam James’s car into drive and fishtail a half-circle.
James chases after me for a moment before I lose him in the smoke of his squealing tires.
By the time I’m back on fifty-eight, my phone is ringing constantly. Each time I don’t answer I can only assume it’s pissing Simon off more and more, but I simply don’t give a fuck right now.
But I do answer when I see that the call is coming directly from Lucifer.
My voice comes out harsh and raw from the screaming that keeps erupting from my lungs. “I’m heading back to Eden.”
“We need to talk about Eden,” Lucifer says quietly. “We’ve come across information that puts her in a very bad light, Jude.”
Pushing down harder on the accelerator, I listen instead of talking. I don’t trust my mouth or brain at this moment. I only trust the aching tether that pulls me to her.
Simon comes through the line when I don’t speak. “Did you steal James’s car?”
The fucker knows I did.
“Jude, Eden may be severely compromised. We found a very large deposit in her name, attached to her social security number,” Lucifer says calmly. “We also have reason to believe that her uncle, Mickey, has a hand in something.”
“What does all of that have to do with Eden?” I ask. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Never,” Lucifer says with a tone I don’t quite know how to understand. It’s full of trust but also some other emotion I can’t quite grasp. “But you could be bringing a Judas into our family.”
“I’ll know if she is,” I say quietly. “I don’t have rose-colored lenses over my eyes.”
And I don’t.
I don’t believe she’s on some unobtainable pedestal.
I don’t believe she is pure and without sin.
But I’ll know if she’s betrayed me. I’ll know the depth of her soul.
“You need to bring her in,” Simon says so calmly it’s as if he’s asking how the weather is. “We can question her and get to the bottom of everything.”