Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
As glad as I am to watch her walk down the hall again, with Bianca at her side as they head to her wing, my heart sinks. No matter how much I tighten my grip, she's like quicksand slipping through my fingers. How can I help someone that doesn't want my help?
We continue through the house, and every step I take leaves me feeling relieved. I didn't know how much I missed being here. “It's good to be home.”
“That it is,” he agrees, sticking close to my side.
Too close. “Afraid I can't make it to my office alone?”
“Did I say that?”
“You don't have to.” I make a point of taking a giant step to the left to place more distance between us. “I can practically feel your breath on the back of my neck.”
“Remind me later not to ask if you need any help changing your bandages.”
“I wasn't going to ask for help.”
“No, of course not. Why would you accept anyone's assistance?” Sarcasm drips from his response. It's only once we've reached my office that he exhales loudly, rubbing at the back of his neck, giving off a frustrated energy. “I have to say it because it's eating me up inside, but I feel like if I was there, you wouldn't have been shot.”
“You don't know that.” It never occurred to me that he would see things that way. “The best place for you was to be at Tatum's side.”
“I understand that, but you could've died. Does that not make any bells go off in your head?”
“Of course it does, yet there wasn't any other option. If it makes you feel better, you can help change my bandages.” I smirk to lighten the mood.
“Sorry, the window of opportunity is closed.” At least he's grinning when he looks my way. “I haven't wanted to bring it up since there were more important things to discuss—Bianca and Tatum and all that, but what are our next steps?”
“To find and kill Jack, and his son.” The answer is simple. Jack and his son will pay for fucking with what is mine.
“He's gone deep into hiding. I've been checking with my contacts around the clock, and nobody's seen or heard from him. I even checked local hospitals—if she sank that knife as deep into him as you said, I'm sure he needed more assistance than some paid under-the-table doctor.”
“It's almost poetic,” I sigh. “Though it would have been better if she'd stabbed him in the balls, that prick. She might've spared the world the possibility of there being another Moroni one day.”
“If we take him out, and I mean soon, we'll eliminate that possibility as well.”
“That means we have to flush him out somehow—both of them. Any ideas on how to do that?”
“Nothing aside from the usual. I haven't been thinking strategically, let's put it that way.” That makes two of us. “Set one of his warehouses on fire, burn his house down, find his men, and send him photos of their torture, that kind of thing. I'm not sure that would do it, either. Not if he's that determined to stay hidden.”
The temptation to go along with the idea is almost too strong to resist. I would love to bask in the warmth of a fire if it was Jack Moroni's life burning to cinders. My pulse races, my fists tighten, and I want to find the nearest book of matches.
“That will be what he expects,” I point out, not gladly. “Nobody wants to destroy his existence more than I do, but we have to play it smart. We can't rush out, guns blazing. We could end up walking into a trap or miss our chance, and who knows if we'll get another. We've got one opportunity.” I watch as he absorbs my words, and I notice his shoulders rising, the tension in every muscle. “Romero. I need you with me on this. I can't have you going rogue.”
“I have no intention of going rogue. I'll do whatever you think is best. You're the boss.”
“I don't like it any more than you do,” I assure him. “I probably hate it a hell of a lot more. I want him to pay more than anything, but acting without thought isn't going to get us what we want. The snake has to poke his head out eventually. We'll get him the moment he does.”
“Right.” He turns away from the window, and if I didn't know better, I would think the snarl he wears was directed at me. The sky behind him grows darker by the moment. It's been several long days, and we all need a minute to catch our breath and get our shit together.
“I was thinking of reaching out to Costello,” he suggests. “But I wanted to check with you first. Since the relationship is still somewhat new, I wasn't sure if that would be the right move.”