Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“You were the one who couldn’t show your face again,” he snarls. “My perfect little whore girlfriend. The cum dumpster for Marquardt Prep’s finest. Did you like having those cocks inside of you, princess? Because I’m sure it’d be no trouble to get the gang together again. For old times’ sake.”
I claw at his fingers until he shoves me away in disgust.
He knocks back the rest of his scotch while I catch my breath and imagine plunging my knife between his eyes. There’s no question in my mind now.
I was right all along.
He isn’t sorry. None of them are sorry and they are all assholes and they all need to die.
“I’ve been watching you for a while now, Ten,” he tells me once he’s calmed down. “Watching the way you operate.”
I don’t want to believe him. Because that would mean that I’ve been remiss in my number one priority. Looking out for predators.
And this man is the worst kind of predator.
The same boy who led me to my doom that night. I was the fool who walked hand in hand with him.
The years haven’t changed him. He’s not playing by bureau rules, FBI agent or not. And I don’t have to be a psychic to know this is bad. Really bad.
He retrieves a file from the table and yanks out a photo, dangling it between his fingers. It’s me. Last week. Following Storm and my target into the hotel room where she tortured and tattooed him.
I swallow, but the lump in my throat doesn’t budge.
“I don’t suppose I need to tell you how many felonies you committed that night,” he says. “Do I?”
There is no negotiating with terrorists. But he leaves me little choice at this point.
“What do you want?”
“That man was the son of a senator,” he answers. “Did you know that?”
I didn’t know that.
Fucking hell.
“You’re an intelligent girl, Ten. Or do you really prefer Scarlett now? It suits you. It suits the street whore you’ve become.”
He pauses, and smirks, and waits for a reaction. But fuck him and his dirty file and I need to get the hell out of this room. He grabs another piece of paper from the file and scans it with his eyes, reading off the information as he goes.
“The media would have a field day with this one. Given your family’s name, your affluent background and social status. The best prep school that mommy and daddy could buy. The girl on the fast track to Harvard, by all accounts. An unblemished academic record- until your disappearance. Your extracurricular activities make Mother Teresa look like a slacker. So, you can just imagine how many circulars would love to splash that headline across their front pages. Missing Deb turning tricks in Boston’s seedy underground. They’d probably call you an addict, for dramatic effect. Speculate on your family and your childhood and tear your world apart.”
He smiles, and his teeth are so white it’s creepy. Probably at least twenty grand in that mouth alone.
“What do you want?” I repeat.
He sighs and discards the paper beside him, leaning back to examine me.
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want, Ten. I really don’t want to tell Senator Winslowe that you’re the girl he has numerous PI’s sniffing around for right now. Because we both know what would happen then. Between him and the Praetorians … I’m honestly not sure which is worse.”
My mouth is dry and my heart’s beating too fast, and I know now, the direction he is heading with all of this.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” he quotes Robert Frost, because he’s a fucking asshole and he knows I used to like that poem and he wants to ruin it for me like he ruined everything else.
“Which one will you take, Scarlett?”
“Tell me what my options are.”
There is victory in his eyes and his smile, but he hasn’t won yet.
“Ethan, Trip, Quinn, and Duke. You remember them, right?”
“How could I ever forget them?”
There is the tiniest of ticks in his jaw, and it’s not quite regret, but something else.
Jealousy?
“I’m sure they want the past to stay buried just as much as you do,” he tells me. “Now that they are well and truly successful members of society. So, here’s the deal. You walk out on me today, and each of them, along with Senator Winslowe gets your name and address hand delivered by the end of the day. Should you be lucky enough to survive the week, I take you in on the numerous felonies the DA will happily indict you with based on my investigation into your activities.”
There are no words left in my mouth or in my head. Only questions. A frantic search for answers. But there is no time for Q&A because he’s not done yet.
“Option two. I think you’re going to like option two better, Scarlett. See in this one… you get to live.”