Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
There’s a piece of paper set up a foot away from the lens. The text is written in a cramped but legible hand.
Jackal. Marco. Simon knows about us. He had me followed, and now I’m stuck here. He took my car and there are guards watching my house. I’m trapped, even though I don’t want to be. I’m sorry. I want to see you, but I don’t know how. Please, protect yourself. Laura.
I read the note again and again as the horror sinks in.
Don Bianco knows about my relationship with his little sister.
If I wasn’t a target before, I sure as fuck am now.
A dozen thoughts run through my head. But before I do anything, I send a message to Laura.
Marco: Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.
There’s a short delay, then the message moves away from the camera lens. It shows her basement studio. There’s a half-formed jackal ear lying on its side. Laura’s in dust-covered overalls with a respirator over her face; her hair is covered in white and she’s holding her chisel in one hand. She waves and pretends to blow a kiss before she turns back to her work.
That’s the best I’ll get from her for now. I know Laura well enough at this point to know that she’s going to lose herself in her work for a while, and that’s fine with me. So long as she’s safe.
I set up my defenses after that. A string of security cameras around the entire property plus a few guards-for-hire on retainer. They’ll lurk around in the parking lot, just in case.
Then I call Valentina. “You can’t come here anymore.”
“I’m sorry, what now? How am I supposed to get my coffee fix?”
“Simon Bianco knows about my relationship with Laura.” Saying it out loud wasn’t so bad. I figured that would be harder.
She’s quiet for a beat. I figure she’ll be livid—this is putting everything we’ve worked for in jeopardy. Now the Bianco Famiglia will be watching me closely, and good luck getting this alliance shit off the ground, much less planning an attack on them.
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” she says.
“Valentina—” But too late. She already hung up. I try calling, except I get the dreaded Fuck-You button, and ten minutes later she’s barging in through my door.
She stands in my kitchen, staring at me. She says nothing as I watch her from the living room. The setting sun casts long, golden light through her hair, and I’m reminded of how much we’ve been through together. The stress of living in the Santoro Mafia, the horror of her father’s death, the chaos afterward, and all the rebuilding we’ve done together since.
“You’re such a dumb asshole,” she says at last, and it’s almost a relief. “But this is a good thing.”
I sit down on the arm of the couch and try to let that sink in. “How the fuck is this good?” I ask, honestly at a loss. “This is the worst possible news imaginable.”
“No, you idiot, this is exactly what you need.” She opens the refrigerator and takes out two beers, tossing me one. I catch it as she cracks hers. I wait for the suds to die down before opening mine. “Listen, I get it, you like the girl. She’s hot and a little crazy, which is sort of right up your alley.”
“She’s not crazy,” I say, even though she sort of is, and I’m also a little crazy too, which is why we work.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. You knew that whole thing was doomed from the start. It was a fucking mess, Marco, and it was affecting your work. Our work. Everything we’ve been fighting for.” She comes toward me and takes a long pull from her drink. I sip mine, stewing in a cold, quiet dread building in my guts. “Now it’s out in the open. Don Bianco knows you were banging his kid sister—”
“Please don’t call her a kid, that’s fucked up.”
“You know what I mean. Even if you think you still want to see her, we both know you can’t. It’s over with her. Like it or not, you and Laura Bianco are finished. You’re broken up. Which means you can get your head out of your fucking ass and start concentrating on what really matters, which is hitting those bastards back for taking everything from us.”
Valentina’s grip on her drink tightens. Her knuckles turn white as she holds the bottle so hard I wonder if she might break the glass. She’s normally so fucking strong, all big smiles and confidence. She’s put together and in charge, and sometimes I forget that she’s messed-up and mourning the death of her father and filled with a violent rage deep enough to drown her in. I was like that too not long ago, except I can finally see her for what she is, which means I can see myself for what I was too. I crawled out of that, mostly because Laura helped pull me free.