Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
His humorless smile returns as he shifts his black eyes between us.
I hold steady, the tip of the knife shaking in my trembling hand.
“I’m Ernesto Buffalino. I already know who you are.” He presses his index finger to the point of the knife, raising his eyebrows toward me, then pointing to my aunt. “And, of course, I know who you are, Miss Jessica Collins. You are the thorn in my side. One I intend to remove, by any means necessary.”
He raises his hand, snapping two fingers together, and in the blink of an eye the goon to his left with the bald head reaches out, his meaty fingers encircling my forearm, squeezing so tight I wince as his other hand twists the handle of the knife free, flinging it across the room to stick in the yellowed wallpaper above the dusty sideboard, where I used to steal Aunt Jess’s famous snickerdoodle cookies every Christmas.
A scream comes from my left. I jerk my head around as the beast of a man continues to squeeze my arm, to see my aunt crumple to the floor with a hard shove from the other enforcer, lighting a fire down in my belly as I tug and slap at the hand encasing my arm, squeezing my bones until they feel like they will snap.
“Don’t touch her!” I yell, my voice breaking as Ernesto reaches into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a thick white envelope, which he places on the table, tapping two fingers on the wood.
“No one will need to be touched if only you put your signature where it belongs. You will receive fair market value for the property, which is more than you deserve.” He makes a disgusted grunt, looking around the dim room.
The hand on my arm disappears, and I have just enough time to turn my eyes on the bald-headed goon before he cocks back and delivers a full force fist into my mouth.
I’m on the floor before I can get a thought together, pain screaming up my cheek and warm wetness seeping down my chin.
My body feels like it’s pulsing, all the sound sucked from the room as I lie on my side, one hand drifting to the burst of red pain in my face, pressing my fingers into the slick blood now flowing from my broken lip.
“Sign the papers, Miss Collins, and this all goes away.” Ernesto crouches down, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between them as he leans forward, his face inches from Jess. “I have a lifetime of experience getting what I want.”
He jerks his head toward the dark-haired neanderthal, who reaches down, grabs the top of Jess’s head, and turns her face my way as a foot connects with my chest, sending me tumbling backward. A jolt of pain screams through the back of my head as it slams into the corner of the credenza’s carved leg, sending stars dancing in my eyes and an orchestra of ringtones going off in my ears.
“Leave her alone!” My aunt’s voice cracks as my hazy focus and the pain in the back of my head makes me feel like we’ve been transported into a warped version of a Fellini movie.
By the time my vision returns, Ernesto is on his feet, and I realize one of those ringtones is real and coming from his phone, as all three men turn and head back toward the foyer.
“Perfect timing.” Ernesto’s voice turns light and jovial as he answers the call. “I’ve just finished a very productive meeting with the last homeowner. The papers will be signed by tomorrow, you can count on it.”
“Good.” A male voice answers, and a chill zaps over my skin. “I’ve had my crew ready for a week. Every day costs me money, and I don’t like losing money.”
I push to my feet, stumbling toward Jess, the voice vaguely familiar as I tug her into me, pulling her from the floor and easing back into the chair, running my hand over her clammy forehead.
“Asshole,” I spit, as Ernesto turns, the phone screen suddenly at an angle where I can see the name of the caller for a second before it’s gone. And it feels lik my world has been torn apart.
“Do you mind?” he asks, his voice sounding distant inside my disbelieving head. “This is a private call.”
The cold that covered me a second ago becomes an inferno. Confusion and anger twist through me as the throbbing in my face is forgotten.
And from somewhere, a plan forms in my mind. People aren’t always what they seem, and the thought of calling Cassie is quickly come and gone.
How well does she actually know her new husband Magnus Leonard? They were a whirlwind, and even Cassie said there are times she wakes up, looks over at the sleeping man next to her and wonders who he really is.