Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Trace studied me before hitting a button. “No, thank you.”
“Have a good rest of the day, Mr. West.”
“You as well, Gervin.”
It wasn’t long before we arrived. I was no longer expecting anything, so I wasn’t surprised when the elevators opened onto his apartment. It covered its own floor, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that ran the entire apartment. He had a waterfall gradient island. A gas fireplace that was already running for him. His place looked like an industrial art gallery. It was chic, expensive, and manly, all at the same time.
“You slept the whole way back, but would you like a coffee? Or would you like to sleep more?”
I ignored him, walking past the living room and all the way to the wall. I could easily imagine that I was able to see the whole of Manhattan, we were that high up. The water was visible on two sides of his place, but I looked straight down. The street was so far beneath us.
I lifted my hands, fingers spread out, and touched my palms to the glass.
If I pushed hard enough, would it shatter? Would I fall?
A better question, was that what I wanted?
My aunt killed a man.
“Your men, on your orders, hid a dead body today. They did it fast and easy, and it’s very obvious they’ve done this before. You help with your family’s business. Am I wrong?”
I hadn’t arrested her. I hadn’t called it in.
I looked, seeing his jaw clenched. “At times, yes,” he clipped out.
“Illegal activities? That way of helping?”
Another jaw clench. “Not all the time.”
Right.
“Doing what I do, life is right or wrong. You’re either wrong, or you’re right. There’s no middle ground.” I took a breath. “Having said that, I do not want to ever know about what you do for your family. I cannot know. Do you get me?”
His eyes were blazing at me. “You just asked.”
I had.
I didn’t care. Shit was swirling in my head. Impending doom and shame were right behind it, going through me, filling me up, and I wished for a second, just a second, that I would shatter that glass.
Just for one second.
“My dad is dead.” I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. “My brother was convicted for killing him. My mom’s a drunk, and because of her illness, she’s burned all her bridges with her family. That aunt is the first relative I’ve met in twenty years. I’ve had a few relationships during my life—most were just sexual. I’m twenty-nine years old, and during all of that serious shit, I loved being a parole officer. Which is surprising because it’s almost a joke now. New mission statements, new focus so even if a parolee violates, he’s given a new resource as a reward. Some rehabilitate. Most don’t, but they’re out there, and you can only hope they don’t hurt someone before they violate enough to go back in. Even with all of that frustration, I still loved my job. I loved the community, my coworkers, but today, all of that could be taken from me. The integrity I had, that was taken.” He hadn’t moved an inch since I started talking. “I don’t blame you, but I’m not an idiot. You guys were there for a reason. I’m aware my aunt’s abuser worked at a large shipping facility. But I don’t want to know why you were there, and I don’t need to know the reason. There’s no half-in and half-out. You’re not half of a criminal. You are a criminal, and today, I became one too.”
His eyes grew fierce, sparking from the emotion. He started for me. “I’m not going to speak about my family. The line is real fucking clear that you won’t be told anything, nor would the fuck I want to include you on anything. Instead, I’m going to give you a choice. It’s something you can offer to your aunt. We’ll help her disappear. Her and the kids. We’ll set them up in a new life, with money, assets. We’ll get her a job. We’ll make sure her family is healing and is starting to thrive before we pull our guys from watching her. I’m offering you that, for them, but also for you.”
“Why?” I grated out, my throat feeling so dry that there could’ve been cracks inside.
“Because you’re not the only one cursed here.” He took another step toward me. “And despite your derision, I still want to fuck the shit out of you. And because of that, because I can’t get you out of my head, instead, I’m trying to do something right for you.”
“What are you expecting in return?”
“Nothing.” He held both of his hands up, palms my way. “Jesus.”
“His disappearance will be noted.”
“It’s already handled. I won’t tell you the details, but we have a lot of people on our payroll.”