Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
He flicks on his phone and taps the screen. “We’re going to separate now,” he says in that deep voice of his I love so much. “Team ready?”
“Ready,” Joe says.
Cain curses and hangs up the phone. “Fine. Now it’s time. Motherfucker.” He stabs his fingers through his hair and yanks the car door open. “No matter what, Violet. No matter if you leave me or I get shot or whatever the fuck happens next… I love you. Keep the boots, and the puppy, and anything you fucking want, and know I love you.”
I open my mouth to respond just as the truck door slams.
I know what I have to do. I have my whole plan carefully choreographed, and now I only have to make it work. But my legs don’t want to work, and my heart… my heart’s still joined with his.
He loves me. And he didn’t have to say it out loud to make it so.
He loves me.
I turn to exit the truck. I will my body to move, to cooperate with the plan. To make this happen.
I didn’t come this far to fail in the face of victory, knowing I’m so close to the Holy Grail. I tap the barrel of my gun for reassurance. My Wilson. It’s the tool I need most right now.
I open my door. Cain smiles at me. It’s all part of our act. “See you at dinner, baby.” He takes a few steps toward me, gathers me to his chest, then kisses my cheek.
“Bye, honey,” I say, part of my act again, a role I need to play. “I love you.”
That didn’t… feel like an act, though. It didn’t.
He turns from me and stalks away.
It feels final. It feels real, and I hate that it does.
I lift my chin, remembering the first time here with him, when we rescued his sister. I shiver when a cold, brisk wind stirs around me, biting straight through the thin fabric of my top, and briefly wonder why the seasons change. Perhaps to remind us that the passing of seasons is like the passing of time, so gradual it’s hardly noticeable until you look up one day and realize everything’s changed.
I walk with my head down, my gun tucked safely beneath the long coat I wear. I won’t use it, not now, but I’m ready for if I do. If we were followed, Cain believes that Armand will approach me any minute now. I turn to an ice cream shop, closed now that we’re getting closer to winter, and finally find a hot coffee and cider stand at the very end of the boulevard.
That ought to do it. Order a cup of coffee, pretend all is good… and he’ll come out of hiding. And if not… plan B.
I go up to the coffee counter and wait behind several customers, my hands shoved into my pockets. “I’ll take a tall dark espresso, black, no sugar,” I order, when I feel someone step up behind me. Out of my peripheral vision, I see a familiar face. I turn with a half-smile as my coffee’s placed in my hand.
“Hello, Armand.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cain
I didn’t imagine that kiss had meaning. I didn’t imagine there was power behind her profession of I love you. She loves me still, even if she’s hurt right now, and that is the one thing that will help me get through this right now. And I’ll do anything, anything to make this better.
I take my position watching her, even though it kills me to stay so far away from her. I know that the Castellanos have been warned, that Armand is nearby, and that we still have hurdles to jump before we find what we came for.
I feign going down a walkway that takes me to some residential housing, then quickly slip into the car with tinted windows that Joe’s got waiting for me.
We watch.
The door to a green car opens, and Armand steps out. I’m surprised he had the balls to drive that car, knowing we have it on file, though he doesn’t know we’re on to him yet.
He looks older and tired, his cheeks gaunt and his eyes sunken and sallow.
“Jesus,” Joe mutters, mimicking my own thoughts. “He looks about twenty years older. What the fuck is up with that?”
I shake my head. I don’t fucking care. Violet’s at the window of the coffee stand, ordering, when Armand steps her way. He looks obviously around her, over his shoulder, as if afraid that someone will jump out at him at any moment. I can’t believe I ever hired such a fucking coward.
“No, Armand,” Joe mutters. “We’re not going to attack you… yet.”
I know that Joe’s fucking dying to.
“Can’t shoot from here, boss, and it wouldn’t be wise,” Joe says, raising his eyebrows at the gun in my hand.