Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
There are at least ten Russians lined up against a wall and a bald man in a suit pacing up and down, shouting into a walkie-talkie as officers pat down the Russians. Some officers are slapping cuffs on them. I step out of the car.
“What are you doing?” Dario says.
“Look at the bald guy.”
Dario leans against the window. “That’s Sunderland, isn’t it? Jacob Sunderland?”
“He’s had a haircut.”
Sunderland is one of our police contacts. I toss my gun into the car, then walk over to the police tape, waiting with my hands behind my back. People clear the way for me, stepping aside until I’m at the front of the crowd.
Fyodor is the last to be handcuffed, a grim expression on his face. He turns and spots me, looking like a defeated little kid. I smirk and mime a finger pistol, firing it at him. I even toss the bastard a wink. Good riddance.
Finally, Sunderland sees me standing here. He wanders over, glancing over his shoulder. He probably doesn’t want to be seen with me when the Feds are around, but we’ve been allies too long for him to ignore me. We wander off to the side, away from the crowd.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Why are you here, Leo?” He narrows his eyes. “Did you get word of the shipment too?”
I nod.
“How?”
I grin.
“Fair enough,” he says. “FBI have been tapping Fyodor’s phones. The Bratva were making too much of a splash. This war hasn’t been good for anybody. I only found out about it a week ago. Can you believe that? Feds, man.”
“What have they got Fyodor for?”
He needs to stay gone for a long, long time. He needs to forget that this city exists, or it’s blood.
“Oh, he’s got quite the list of achievements, Leo. Trafficking kids. Sexual assault. Several murders. Then there’s the RICO charge, criminal conspiracy. He’s going to get several life sentences.”
That’s still not enough for the man who burned this city for two years.
“He won’t serve a year, Sunderland.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“Fair enough.”
I return to the car.
“Never fuck with the Feds,” Dario says, chuckling. “Shame. I was almost looking forward to a fight.”
“One second, you’re telling me not to kill. The nex—”
“You, Leo. You. We’re not the same person.”
“Fyodor is going to get several life sentences.”
“The man who ordered innocent women and children to be murdered? The man who, ultimately, is responsible for half of the bad things that have happened in this city for two years?”
“Yeah, him.”
Dario laughs, and I laugh with him.
We both know how this has to end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Emma
I sit under the tree, the tall one I climbed last time. A couple of guards sit on the back porch, watching me as though they expect me to leap up and grab the shortest branch again. I can’t imagine running after what Leo and I did. It was only two hours ago. Even when I did run, it didn’t feel like I made a choice, more like I slipped into some crazed state that twisted my head upside down.
Now, my belly is so warm and fuzzy. I keep going over the lovemaking, the first tender moments, then the rush at the end, the passion erupting and claiming us both.
I lean forward when Rosa walks into the garden. There’s a pit in my throat the closer she gets. What if she has news about Leo? I keep thinking about him getting into a gunfight, but unlike in the forest and at the house, he won’t be lucky this time. The bullet will slip through a gap in his bulletproof vest. My heart shudders when I remember the sex, the bruises across his muscled ribs.
Rosa’s hands are clasped in front of her. Her hair is in disarray, and I’m sure there are tears in her eyes as she approaches. I jump to my feet, imagining the worst in a thousand different scenarios, all at once, all the ways they could’ve hurt my man.
“What is it?” I demand. “What happened?”
Rosa stops and says nothing. She’s not crying. It was the light dancing in her eyes. Her expression is difficult to read. She just watches me.
“Rosa?” I yell, knowing I should contain myself, but I can’t stop hearing Leo say the L-word over and over—the love that feels like the most certain thing in my life. God help me, but it feels even more certain than my oldest and closest friendship.
“Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay. Rosa, please…”
Finally, she nods. “That’s why I’m out here. The FBI beat them to it. Fyodor is going to jail. So are lots of the higher-ups in the Bratva.”
I almost stumble against the tree. It’s like whiplash, living in one reality where my man is dead and then suddenly, blessedly, emerging into this one.
“Okay, good. Oh, thank God.” I wince when I realize what I’m doing. “I’m sorry, Rosa.”