Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I purse my lips, not happy with that, but it’s a start. “First thing’s first then. I want to know who you are. Who you really are.”
Lanzo studies me for a long moment before putting his gnawed-at bagel aside. “I’m a freelancer. I do security work for various countries, including the United States. I specialize in computer systems, from hacking server farms to phones, and everything in between. I’m versed in espionage, hand-to-hand combat, weapons, and assassination techniques. I do morally gray jobs so the good guys don’t have to get their hands dirty.”
I shiver, nodding to myself, not surprised. This is all some action-movie crap. I’m not sure how much of it I believe, but I’m also not sure it matters. I can trust that there’s some truth hidden in his absurd lies somewhere. “And who’s paying you to find Burian?”
“Nobody.” His face remains impassive.
“Why? What did he do to you?”
Lanzo shakes his head. “That’s personal.”
I hesitate, surprised by his answer. I expected something else, like it’s classified or too dangerous, but that?
It’s hard to imagine Lanzo having a personal life.
I spread my hands, trying to put this all together. “All right, so let me understand this. You’re a mercenary. You work for whoever pays. You do dangerous stuff. And you want to kill Burian for reasons you’re not sharing.”
“Pretty much. If it helps, Burian’s here in the States for an important job. That dead FBI agent is probably the first of many bodies that are going to appear in his wake. Burian never travels far from his home in Russia unless there’s something big going down. Peirce was just the beginning. We can stop him if we work together.”
I finish my coffee, trying to stall.
None of this sounds appealing.
Frankly, if it’s as dangerous as he says, then I should run screaming.
Three million isn’t nearly enough if I don’t live to enjoy it.
But Grandpop might.
“If we’re doing this, and I haven’t decided yet, how would we get started?” I ask, tentative.
“First, I’ll take you back to my apartment. It’s not too far from here.”
“You have an apartment in Dallas? Why didn’t we go there?”
He gives me a look. “Would you have stuck around if I tried to take you home?”
“Good point.” I definitely would have run screaming into the night if he tried to take me anywhere near his lair.
“After we get settled, I’ll take you home to gather up some of your things, then we’ll go meet with some very nice people.”
“Some nice people?” I stare at him, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Good friends of mine. A mafia don, a lawyer. A generic rich guy. You’ll like them.”
“Mafia don. Right. You’re friends with a mob boss.”
“Carmine’s a delight.”
“Sure, why not?” I put my face in my hands.
I hate this, hate it so much, but I have that feeling again. The same feeling from the night before when I knew I was going to make a massive mistake. That same driving, pulsing need to move forward with this stupid plan, even if I know it’ll hurt me in the end.
I tell him, “Fine. You have a deal.”
“You won’t regret this.” He pauses. “Maybe a little. But it’ll be fun. And hey, when Burian’s just a stain on the ground, you’ll be rich.” He stands, offering me his hand. “Come on, let’s get moving. The sooner we get started, the fewer people Burian will have the chance to kill.”
I am very sure that I’m going to regret this, but I take his head and let him help me up.
“I’m pretty sure I regret this already,” I say, glancing away as a thrill runs down my spine. All he has to do is get close to me and I’m shivering with desire. “Now when do we leave?”
“Actually, you need to do one thing before we go.” He shoves my phone into my hands. I gape at him, not sure when he even got that. “Call your boss and tell him you’re okay.”
Chapter 8
Renata
I shove him back out of sheer surprise.
He grunts but doesn’t laugh. I keep expecting him to say this is some kind of joke, but no, he’s only watching me carefully like he’s afraid I might finally grow some common sense and make a run for it.
Instead, I jab the phone at him sharply.
“I am not calling that guy. You have to be kidding me! He set me up last night.”
“You don’t know that,” Lanzo says, and before I can firmly interject, he adds, “at least you’re not supposed to.”
I seethe for a moment. I have to take a few big breaths to calm myself enough to give him a rational reply. “Take this phone and shove it up your ass,” I say, flinging it at the couch.
It hits the cushions, bounces, and falls to the floor.
Lanzo walks over and retrieves it, though he doesn’t insert it rectally. Which, actually, I don’t want to see, so maybe that’s for the best.