Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“I fucked up,” Dax keeps saying over and over, clothes covered in blood.
On the ground beside Bennett lays a dirty, bloodied knife. There’s no doubt Dax stabbed him to death—I can tell that from Bennett’s injuries alone, and the way his face is so mangled up. I swallow back the vomit once more.
“I fucked everything up. What have I done? Fuck. What have I done?”
What do I say to him? It’s cool, bro. You killed a cop and you’re a murderer, but it’s all totally fine and nobody will ever know.
Yeah, fucking right.
That’s not going to cut it.
“What happened here?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“He came in . . . he came in tellin’ me that he had a change of plans and if I didn’t do what he wanted, he was bringin’ me down. We got into a fight. I picked up the knife and just . . . I fuckin’ lost it. Fuck. Fuck.”
Lost it? You just lost it?
The man has been stabbed multiple times. That’s more than just losing it.
“What plans did he want to change? I don’t understand.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“Dax, what plans? What are you keeping from me?”
I stare at him and his eyes meet mine, and they’re looking a little crazed, which is rather alarming. I keep it together.
“I’m a bad man, Waverly. I’m a bad man. You don’t want to know who I am. You don’t. You’ll leave.”
Oh god.
He’s right, but this is my moment to ‘prove’ to him that he can trust me. The only way for me to get in is if he thinks he has someone on his side. Now Bennett has been killed, we’ve got a huge piece of leverage to bring this operation down. Dax would go to prison for a long damned time if I could get enough evidence to send him there. And something on Peter, too.
I step forward even though everything in my body is screaming at me to stop, turn around and leave.
I don’t do that.
I force myself to move closer. I force myself to raise my hand and place it on the side of his face, to say in a soft, yet a little scared, voice, “Nothing you could tell me would make me want to leave. I want to help you. Let me help.”
God.
Don’t vomit, Waverly.
You’ve got this.
This is your chance to prove to everyone that you can pull this off.
“You say that now, but you don’t understand . . . not a fuckin’ thing.”
“I’m standing here next to the dead body of a police officer, and I haven’t run. How much worse can it be than that?”
“You have no idea,” he tells me, his voice hard.
“Let me in.”
He places a bloodied hand over mine and I want to cringe and yank it away, but I don’t. I keep holding his eyes as he studies me. Then, in a low voice, he says, “He’s a cop. He’s a cop, which means I’m done for. You can’t get away with killin’ a cop. You just fuckin’ can’t.”
He’s right. You probably can’t.
“We’ll find a way. There has to be a way.”
“They’ll come looking, and when they do, they’re goin’ to find out everything . . . When they find out everything, we’re goin’ down. I’m done for. This is the fuckin’ end of me. Peter will kill me. He’ll hang my fuckin’ head from the ceiling.”
Jesus Christ.
“You need to take a breath. Tell me everything, and then we’re going to figure out what to do with the body. We’ll can fix this.” Oh, we’ll solve it out alright. When I get the information I need, Dax is going to fucking hell where he belongs. So is Peter. And any other person who is involved in this. They’re all going where they belong.
“We can’t figure it out,” he roars, shoving me backwards so hard I slip in the pool of blood on the floor.
I land with a thud on the ground and when I lift my hand, and feel the sticky substance that is coating my fingers, I start to dry retch. There is blood all over me now—on my clothes, on my hands. Oh god. Oh god.
“Waverly!”
Dax steps forward and pulls me to my feet with one swift movement. Then he’s pulling me into his arms and cradling me like I’m some sort of broken doll. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
Oh god.
This man is crazy.
One hundred percent fucking crazy.
I hadn’t seen it until now, but oh, do I see it so very clearly in this moment.
“Th-th-th-th-there’s blood on me,” I cry, my body trembling. “Get it off! Get it off!”
I start swiping my palms on my clothes to try and get the blood off, but it’s so sticky and so thick, it just makes me look even worse. Even then, it’s stuck to my hands like glue. I can’t seem to remove it. I feel the panic rise in my chest as my heart pounds like a drum. I have to force myself to calm down even though I want to scream and get the hell out of here.