Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Thoughts eject.
I’m on automatic, all action as I see a middle-aged white man with his dick out. He stands at the foot of the bed and strokes his erection, thrusting towards her mattress.
Two calico cats—Walrus and Carpenter—skirt around his ankles, biting his sneaker laces.
Right when he sees me enter the room, my gun raised, he freezes with big wide, bug eyes.
I recognize the target.
Greasy hair, thin lips. We called him Sneakers. Back in October, we caught him masturbating in his car outside this house.
He tries to lift up his blue jeans, dick dangling. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He deserts the struggle with his jeans and charges for the window against the bed.
I’m faster.
Closing the distance, I seize his shoulder before his knee touches the mattress. I wrench him backwards, and I slam the butt of the gun against his head. Light force. The harder hit is my knee in his dick. And he crumples like a rag doll with a guttural noise.
Walrus and Carpenter dart under the bed.
He groans, still conscious but too disoriented to do much of anything. I squat down and roll him on his stomach.
Sick fuck. I fight back the heat that brews in my body and do my damn job. I should touch my mic and call this into the Alpha lead. Price is the one who’ll send backup.
But first instinct takes hold, and I pull out my phone. Unmuting my best friend, I tell him the target, and Akara asks, “Is he responsive?”
“Barely.” I sift through his pockets. Wallet, keys…condom. I go cold.
Thank God my brother didn’t see this. He would have committed murder.
Thank God Jane wasn’t here. She would have been scarred for fucking life.
I’ll carry this.
“Are you good?” Akara asks.
“Yeah. He’s down.” I explain everything else that happened and then end with, “Don’t tell my brother there was a break-in. Let me do it when he’s back.”
“That means I’ll have to keep it from Jane, Maximoff…everyone.”
“Please,” I breathe. My hand shakes a little, and I close my fingers into a fist, then open them to touch my mic. I think Farrow might have some cigarettes in his bedroom…
“I’ll let you do it,” Akara agrees. “Radio Price. I’m hanging up.”
“Stay frosty.” I pin Sneakers down with my knee and speak on comms. I’m hawk-eyed, eyes never leaving the target.
He had a restraining order and broke the thing like it was nothing. This shouldn’t be the price of fame, and now my brother—my family is under that spotlight.
Fuck anyone who thinks they can hurt the people I love.
Fuck them all.
39
THATCHER MORETTI
34 Days Snowed-In
We haven’t taken the ten-hour hike to the inn. But weather calms at dawn, and we thought this morning, again, we’d gear up for the trek.
Turns out, we don’t have to.
Roads are being plowed and salted. Which means after over a month in this house, we’re all finally leaving Scotland. Together. No chance in hell any of us are staying a second longer. We were supposed to be home December 20th.
Today is January 23rd.
Most of us are just thankful this didn’t last until March. We got lucky.
Everyone is worn out. Emotionally. Mentally. But the mood is lighter, at least with the famous ones.
While Jane and her family are already in the cars, ready to move out, security crams in the foyer. We’ve been finishing a house-sweep for belongings, and tension is at a high between Omega and Epsilon.
Tony knows who I am.
He’s known for two weeks. And he’s been making off-handed comments about telling the Tri-Force that I pretended to be Banks.
I don’t doubt he’ll radio the Alpha lead the moment we land in Philly. He’s been working himself up to that point.
Tony leans on a wall beside an empty coat rack. He has a pompous grin. He thinks he has me cornered, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him.
I thought nothing could hurt him—because he couldn’t see past his own inflated head. That his gold-shitting arrogance made him an invincible toolbag. But more than ever, I see through his annoying fucking bravado.
He’s just…sad.
And bitter.
Jealous. Always feeling like he has to prove that he’s better than me—when here I am willingly admitting to every mistake I’ve made. I’m a low bar for perfection.
Fucking over me and Banks won’t make him feel better tomorrow. Our family will give him hell for this, and he’ll never hear the end of it.
I glare at him from across the foyer and adjust the wire to my earpiece. I’m not cornered. I thought long and hard about what Akara said to me at the beginning of this trip.
“There’s always a way out. You don’t have to fall on a sword because it’s sitting in front of you, waiting. You put together the team that’s going to find the right exit. You sidelined me. That’s on you.”