Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
He’s staring haunted at me. He deduces after some muttering with others that he was one of the few people to not know.
And then he lets out a breath of disbelief and rises off the rear couch. “You’ve got to be shitting me—all this time…” He shakes his head, emotion in his eyes that I didn’t expect to meet.
I thought he’d threaten my job. My brother’s job.
First.
Foremost.
He rubs his mouth and spits out, “The good sons. You know that’s what everyone calls you two in the family—the fucking good sons.” He laughs. “What a crock of fucking shit. If only they knew…maybe then I wouldn’t have to hear from my grandma ‘why can’t you be more like those twos, huh?’—or from my uncles, askin’ why I didn’t go to war like the Moretti brothers. Tellin’ me I should be a soldier, a leader like Thatcher. Tellin’ me to go play football like you. And then my sister Nicola, tellin’ me to be good like you.”
I fixate on his jealousy.
I thought he was just insecure and punched down on me to make himself feel better. I didn’t know…
Honestly, I didn’t think anyone could be jealous of me. I was poor. I was an identical twin who got mixed up with another fucking person constantly. I wasn’t popular in the traditional sense.
I felt like no one knew me.
No one saw me.
Except my brothers. My family.
My family.
Realization sinks deep. His family is my family. Ramellas, Morettis, Piscitellis.
He gestures to me. “How is it that you could lie to me for weeks about who you are?”
“You made it too easy,” I say honestly.
I must be the worst son on the planet, because I can’t apologize to him.
Tony sees my hate for him. More clearly than I think he ever has. He hangs his head, looks from side to side before looking at me. His eyes more reddened. “You really thought you could get away with it?”
“Yeah.”
For one week.
Tony just keeps shaking his head. He exits into the parlor, not giving me the satisfaction of knowing what the hell he plans to do. But I can’t see an outcome where he doesn’t rat me out to the Alpha lead.
It’s over.
Banks and I—we’re fucked.
38
BANKS MORETTI
27 Extended Days Pretending to Be Thatcher
Security’s townhouse is empty at oh-two-hundred—a rare thing and this beauty belongs solely to me. Really though, I fucking hate being alone.
So being the only SFO bodyguard in Philly sucks major ass. I miss my brother, and I’m waiting for those unlucky souls to make it back home.
Until then, I lounge on the leather couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table. Cold beer in one hand, my cell balances on my knee. Set to speakerphone.
“Am I…in clear?” Akara’s voice fractures over the line.
“Negative. You’re breaking up.” I swallow more beer.
He hasn’t been able to call in weeks because of the wind chill. It’s finally died down this morning. Enough for Akara to stand in the blistering cold with a sat-phone. Static cracks against the line.
I’ve already been informed of the two shit pies.
Tony knows about the twin switch. Yippee-ki-ya, motherfucker—I’m not excited, but I take the bad and just keep going. We’ll see what happens.
I also just heard about the plan—a ten-hour hike to the village’s inn—and how Thatcher is set to go. If the weather stays like it is, the group of six might be able to move out tomorrow. Apparently a storm has delayed the journey for seven days.
I wish I could be there to stay back with Jane. My brother must be losing his fucking mind to have to leave her behind with Tony.
“How about now?” Akara asks.
“You’re clear.”
He starts venting about the Rooster, and I think I mishear Akara.
My feet drop to floor, blown forward. Glaring at my phone. “He what?”
“He jerked away after touching the hair on her leg.”
I hold the phone to my mouth. “Fuuuuck this knuckle-fuckbag.” My blood is boiling.
Akara laughs. “Shit. I needed that.” He means the laugh.
“What’s he looking for, a two-holed plastic doll?” I shake my head. “He made her feel like shit, didn’t he?” I take a harsher swig of beer.
I can’t stand men like that.
“Sulli said Jane made her feel better about it.” He lets out a rougher breath. “He’s getting on my last nerve.”
Akara has insane self-restraint, which makes him a great lead. He knows the Rooster is untouchable. As the boyfriend to a client, we’re not allowed to glare at him.
Can’t air our opinions about him.
Can’t punch him—which I’d love to do—sorry, Mom.
Unless he’s abusive or a threat to her safety in some other way, we’re supposed to be impartial. I’d like to impartially declare that I’m not a fan.
“Are you gonna tell Sulli what he said to you?” Right before they boarded the plane, this Richie Rich had words with my best friend.