Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
My jaw tightens as he steps out into the hallway. He glances back at me before sliding on his sunglasses, hiding his eyes behind the dark lenses.
“Have a good day,” he drawls.
The way he says it makes the words sound wrong.
I raise my hand and flip him off. That only earns me a crooked smirk before he heads down the stairs. I slam the door hard enough to rattle the frame, then I turn to go looking for Carrie.
I find her sitting at the dining table, sunlight spilling across the room. Her face already looks better than it did earlier. Some of the color is back, and the tension around her eyes is gone. I drop my helmet on the table with a dull thud and then pull out the chair beside her, sitting down.
“What did he want?” I ask.
She fidgets with the bracelets in front of her. She likes to make friendship bracelets to sell on Etsy. “Just to tell me not to make a report, and if I needed anything to contact him.”
“So he was threatening you?” I growl, sitting back in my chair.
She glances up at me and shakes her head. I’ve never had faith in the system, and I bet he was here to cover up for his friend.
“No.” She seems to think about her answer, then scoffs and puts the bracelet down. “Actually, I think he was. Asshole.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Good. Just a little sore,” she replies, smiling, but I know her well enough to know it’s forced.
“Do you need anything? I thought I would check on you before I head out for the day.”
Her gaze meets mine. “Where are you going?”
“Shopping,” I lie.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re a terrible liar,” she says, but thankfully doesn’t push. I stand and then lean down to kiss her on the top of the head. “Are you mad at me?” she whispers.
“Mad?” I ask, pulling back.
“About the money,” she explains.
I knew what she was asking. I pause before I answer. She’s older than me, and I shouldn’t be the one to clean up her mess. I can’t say I’m not disappointed in her; I am. But I know Carrie, and right now, she needs to hear what she wants me to say. So I let the words fall from my lips.
“No, I have enough put away,” I tell her, and that’s half the truth.
“I thought I could double it. I really did,” she whispers.
“Don’t do that again. If you want to double it, ask me.” I pick up my helmet and then leave the apartment before I say something I’ll regret.
What I do is a form of art. It takes great skill to be able to take a life and not get caught doing so. I have excelled in this career for well over five years. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
I sit out front of Bailey’s office building on my Ducati with my helmet on my head as I watch him leave, his trousers pulling tight with each step he takes. He’s laughing with the woman at his side. I wonder if she knows he likes to get handsy with women.
I stay where I am as the two of them walk down the street and then descend the stairs leading to the subway, and out of my view. But that’s okay because I already know where he’s going.
Turning my bike around, I head in the direction of his home. When I get there, I drive by slowly, noticing all the lights are off, which is a good thing. When I researched him, I found that he’s single and has no children. I could only find the basics on him; Carrie does the deep-dive background checks, and she doesn’t need to know what I’m doing right now.
A few blocks away, I find a side street and park my bike. Removing my helmet, I place it on the seat and hope to God someone doesn’t steal it. The neighborhood is considered a good one, but you never know when someone like me is lurking around.
The sun has started to set, and the streetlights flicker as I reach his house. Everything is so quiet right now. I don’t bother going up to the front door. Instead, I go around the back, where I find a doggie door built into the main door. Biting my lip, I contemplate whether I can actually fit through it. Deciding that’s my best option, I get down on all fours and push it open before I start wiggling through.
Just as I’m halfway in, I hear a noise, and my heart pounds in my chest. What I’m doing is so unlike me. I don’t kill for my own personal reasons; it’s usually all business. I lift my head and see two eyes level with mine, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Animals don’t scare me, and thankfully, this one looks like a fur baby. It immediately starts licking my face, probably thinking I’m here to play.