It Destroys Me (Betrayal #6) Read Online Penelope Sky

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Betrayal Series by Penelope Sky
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
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“Adultery isn’t a crime, so she doesn’t deserve to be blown to hell.”

“The Pope will tell you otherwise.”

I continued. “I’m not even sure if he’s inside.”

“Should have had me stake it earlier.”

I didn’t trust anyone right now. “Let’s move.” Astrid had told me Bolton was a night owl and usually went to bed at two in the morning. It was three-thirty now, so he should be out for the night.

We left the cars and crossed the street. No cars were on the road, just a couple parked along the side of the street. As far as I could tell, there was no security posted on the block. That could mean two things. Either Bolton actually wasn’t there, or he wanted to give the illusion that he wasn’t.

We were about to find out which.

It was a private building, so each apartment had its own entrance. Carson’s door was equipped with a keycard lock and a passcode, security that was too advanced for someone who lived an ordinary life.

I stepped outside and let Tyson handle it, my tech guy who could hack anyone he wanted to. He pulled his equipment from his bag and began the process of breaking into the system, tricking it into thinking it had received the keycard and the passcode, and then a couple minutes later, the door clicked as it opened.

I went first, pistol in my hand with the bulletproof vest secured around my chest and torso. I’d been shot a couple times, and it was always a bitch to dig out the bullet and sew up the wound. Ink could hide scars but not erase them.

It was a three-story apartment, and the downstairs was the foyer, the sitting room, the kitchen, and the grand dining room. A wineglass was on the kitchen counter, a drop of white wine sitting at the bottom. The smell of dinner was in the air, like someone had cooked in the kitchen in the last few hours.

I did a sweep downstairs, and my guys did the same, checking closets and pantries in complete silence. My experience as a cop had taught me skills that criminals didn’t have. I’d passed that knowledge on to my guys, and we were able to move and communicate without saying a word.

I took my time as I headed upstairs, knowing too much weight on a single plank could make it scream like the scratch of a record. The walls were covered in black wallpaper with white lilies, and a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling over the stairs. It was an elegant place, a property worth millions.

Just when my head crested the next floor, something was tossed down the stairs.

I hesitated. “Bomb.” I sprinted up the stairs just before it went off, releasing a cloud of gas that leaked toward the kitchen and crept to the floor I had just reached. It all happened fast, seeing his dark outline in the parlor, a rifle in his hands and a gas mask on his face. He aimed the rifle and pulled the trigger.

I sprinted across the room then rolled until I was covered by the wall of the next room. Bullets sprayed the walls and the house. Even though I was used to the sound, the gunshots were still harsh on the ears.

He stopped shooting when I was out of sight.

I got up and kept moving, heading down the hallway and rounding the corner before he could shoot me in the back.

I knew I could kick out a window and climb around to sneak behind Bolton, but my plan was thwarted when I saw the woman down the hallway, wearing a gas mask just like Bolton. In her hand was another smoke grenade, and she taunted me with it before she rolled it toward me.

If I ran back, I’d be pumped full of lead. If I ran forward, I would die in the poison gas.

That left me one choice.

The bomb exploded in the hallway, and smoke immediately filled the space.

I took a deep breath before I stuffed my gun into the back of my jeans. Then I ran for it, ran for the last place she’d been before she disappeared in the haze. It was dark and the smoke was thick, but when I hit something that moved, I knew I’d found her.

My heart pumped harder in my chest from the lack of oxygen and the exertion in my muscles, so I knew time was limited before my lungs forced me to breathe. I found her on the floor as she tried to crawl away from me, her scream muffled by her mask. She kicked me when I tried to grab her ankles.

Then bullets sprayed from behind me.

Bolton pulled that trigger without giving a damn that his side piece could be there.

I tossed her in an open doorway that must lead to a spare bedroom.


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