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)
She nods, frowning as she looks out the window. “Why are the streetlights on during the day? That’s odd.”
I look to where she does. Each streetlight glows with a dim yellow light. I mentally commend her for noticing a detail I didn’t. One of the reasons I hired her.
I flick a button on my phone. Joe answers immediately.
“Boss?”
“Check the electric grid between North and Downey Road. See if you notice any unusual activity.”
I hang up the phone. I turn to Violet and point toward a sheathed knife on the console. “Have you ever used a knife?” I know for a fact she has, it’s one of the many skills her studio has taught her that they don’t advertise.
Though she doesn’t answer me at first, I can tell just by the way she takes the ankle sheath she’s skilled in knife use. In seconds, the sheath’s safely secured under her pant leg, but easy to retrieve at a moment’s notice. Throwing knives are long and sharp, and this one is no exception.
“Knives and I are BFFs, you could say.”
We’ll work on honesty, a two-way street. Eventually I’ll tell her exactly why I’ve watched her and looked into her past. My reasoning is pretty simple and honest, but I know that if I tell her too much too soon, I could push her away. I can’t risk that, not now.
I try to discreetly watch as she gets out of the cab of the truck, but I had nothing to worry about. She swings herself down like an expert, with grace and fluidity. Perfect. Something tells me I won’t regret hiring her.
We walk at a good clip to Skylar’s apartment building, but Violet pauses just outside the door. “Wait!”
I tamp down irritation. I don’t like waiting, and I want to get this done. But she’s fallen to one knee outside the door. She reaches out, fingering something I don’t see right away.
“What is it?”
She shakes her head. “Flowers.”
“Right. I’m sure there are flowers everywhere. I don’t want to waste any—”
“No. No, listen.” She stands, holding a delicate spray of tiny white flowers. “Baby’s breath. I found the same flowers outside my car yesterday, these and a little purple one. Before I got into the accident.”
“Coincidence?”
Her gaze is troubled when she looks at me. “Could be. We should note it, though.”
“Noted. Now can we move on, please?”
My phone rings. Joe.
“Yeah?”
“Someone fucked with the electricity on that block last night. There are reports of the lights going off from dusk to this morning, and since they’re set on auto, they came back on this morning when they don’t usually.”
“Thanks.” I tell Violet, who only frowns but nods.
“Do you have like a special bag or something to hold evidence? We should maybe—”
I do not have the time or patience for this.
“For fuck’s sake, stuff them in your bra if you’re that worried.” I turn to the door and push the doorbell. Out of the corner of my eye, she makes a gesture that could be flipping me off, but when I look sharply back at her, she shrugs her shoulders at me innocently. Probably just as well. Hauling her over my knee to teach her respect probably wouldn’t go over too well right now.
The flowers are gone. I wonder if she took my advice. I imagine them pressed up against her perfect breasts, and with effort, pull my mind back to the job.
I turn back to the door at the sound of footsteps heading our way. Like many apartment buildings in downtown Salem, the door and stoop are aged with time and wear. A potted plant, the leaves dried and dead, sits to one side of the stairs. Below us, on the ground, my eyes fall on a crumpled condom. I hate that Skylar lives here.
Someone speaks to us through the door. “Who’s there?” Lottie.
“Cain, Skylar’s brother. Open up, please.” The please is an afterthought. I try to remember my manners. Manners can sometimes get you places, but they’re damn inconvenient.
Hushed voices rise and fall on the other side. Violet and I look at each other in silence as the door stays shut.
She shakes her head. “Now remember, you can’t just go in there and kill them,” she says in a whisper so soft I can barely hear her. I didn’t even realize my hand was already grazing the butt of my gun. It’s a little scary how she reads my mind.
“Why not?” I whisper back. I’ve killed for less than this, and I’d do it again. This is my sister we’re talking about, my goddamn sister, and if anyone hurts her—
“Laws,” Violet whispers. “You’re no good to your sister in jail or dead yourself.”
“Fucking logic.” She can try all she wants, but she won’t stop me if anyone’s hurt Skylar. No one will.
I turn back to the door and raise my hand to knock, when I hear the clicking of metal, and the doorknob turns. Lottie, my sister’s roommate and best friend, stares at me with wide, haunted eyes behind thick glasses. Her purplish black hair’s in braids on either side of her head, and she wears a black cape with a black and silver dress over her curvy body. Someone I’ve never seen before—man or woman, I don’t know yet, dressed in drab black clothing with long dark hair— stands next to her.