Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“What do you know about anything?”
“A fuck of a lot more than I’ll ever tell you.”
I see indecision in Allen. I let Allen stew in everything while I instruct the boys to untie our plaything and chain him up on the wall.
“What does it matter? I go to jail. I don’t have anything to live for anyways. Just fucking end me; stop torturing me. Word on the street was, you don’t let people breathe air that cross you. Jesus, why are you putting me through this shit?? End me already!” Allen says, screaming his last command, his whole body shaking from the force of it.
That’s when it hits me. Full-on. In the fucking face.
“You picked my club because you had a death wish. That’s why you ignored my warnings. That’s why you kept coming back, even knowing you were getting on the Russian’s radar?”
The kid shrugs, but avoids my eyes. “I figured between you and Kuzma…” he says, but doesn’t finish the thought.
“If you wanted to die so fucking bad, why not just eat a bullet?”
“Because no matter how bad I wanted to end it, I could never pull the fucking trigger! There! Satisfied?”
“What if I told you I had enough power to keep you out of jail?” Allen’s face jerks up to me. Disbelief is clear, but there’s something else.
“Why would you be willing to do that?”
“Because you matter to Ana.” I tell him the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion I’d do anything for Ana. Absolutely anything. Even save her worthless brother. Though, if I want to think about it, I can admit to seeing a little more in him now. Maybe something even worth saving.
“You’re that gone over my sister?” he asks while I take off my jacket and lay it over the top of a chair. Ana is something I’m not discussing with Allen. Something I’m not discussing with any motherfucker. I motion to Bruno and he tosses me the baseball bat I brought earlier.
“You gonna help me end this motherfucker or not?” I ask him, gripping the bat and walking to the son of a bitch who is squirming against the wall, but knows it’s useless.
“Why are you helping?”
“Because he touched Ana. For that alone, he’s not allowed to breathe anymore.”
Allen is silent for a minute, and then I see half a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m going to help. You first, though, because I want to finish him.”
I can’t argue; given Allen’s history, I’d demand that too.
“Batter up, then,” I tell him, right before my bat drums into the side of our prey’s head. I have to remind myself to pull my swings so Allen has something left to play with.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ana
“You’re home late. I thought we had to be at the dinner by now?" I ask Roman when he walks through the door. He stops to look at me and it takes years of training to keep from squirming. I know he’s taking in my outfit and hair. I’m wearing dress pants, black, with a white lace and silk top. It shows nothing, not even cleavage. My hair, I’ve twisted and secured at my nape, and though I know I look good, I look nothing like Roman instructed. I wait to see if he says anything. I’m almost disappointed when he doesn’t. “We’re going to be late,” I add, waiting for the explosion.
“I’ll shower and be out in twenty,” he says, which is damn anticlimactic. I’ve been keyed up for an hour wondering what he would say or do. I almost talked myself out of my rebellion two or three times. Now it seems I worried over nothing. I follow him to the bedroom and pick up his discarded trail of clothes.
I notice there’s a stain on his shirt just as he heads to the shower. “Roman? Did you cut yourself? There’s blood on your shirt.”
“It’s not mine,” he says ominously over the roaring water in the shower. I decide to let it go and not think about it. Lord knows I have enough on my plate.
True to his word, Roman is out of the shower and in the limousine headed to the dinner in thirty minutes. Yet the ride over is really quiet. He’s said very little and I’m picking up a weird vibe from him. Even worse, he’s not given me so much as a simple kiss on the cheek since he got back, and that’s very different from the way he usually is with me.
“Is everything okay, Roman?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer. We’ve been at the party for an hour. I’ve been introduced, inspected, and dissected since we got here. The men have leered and the women have been trying to kill me with looks. I’m a nervous wreck and I just want out of here. The fact that Roman has kept a hand on me the entire time, either by putting his arm around me or keeping one at the small of my back, is the only reason I haven’t run away. All this, however, and he’s still barely said more than four complete sentences to me. He leads me over to the corner of the ballroom we’re in. We’re the only couple in here and I find I can breathe easy for the first time since we got in the damn vehicle to get here.