Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Where is she?” I growled.
Leona’s mother blinked. She was fucking drugged.
Her john stared at me open-mouthed. It annoyed the fucking crap out of me. I gripped his throat and smashed him against the wall, making him sputter. Then I looked up at Leona’s mother again. “I give you ten seconds to tell me where she is, or by God, I will make you watch me skin this asshole alive.”
Terror shook his frame.
Leona’s mother didn’t seem to care. Her lipstick was smeared across her left cheek as if she’d wiped her mouth. I looked from her to her client, my lips curling with disgust. She probably wouldn’t mind me cutting him to pieces. I shoved him away, then advanced on her. I didn’t like hurting women, and Leona would definitely never forgive me if I hurt her mother, but I needed to find her. That left me at an impasse. I tried to calm the fuck down and focus. Tried to read her as if we were facing off in the cage.
I softened my expression. “I protected your daughter. Your husband--”
“Ex-husband,” she corrected.
“I got rid of him so he couldn’t hurt you or Leona again.”
I could tell that her resolve was slipping away but it still wasn’t enough to tell me. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out two hundred dollars. I held it out to her. “Take it.” She did, but she hesitated still. “I could give you meth now and then, for free.”
Her eyes lit up. And I knew I’d won. Drugs won over her feelings for her daughter. “She left,” she said in that raspy voice. “She packed her things and left about two hours ago. I don’t know where. I didn’t ask her.”
“Are you sure you don’t know?” I asked in a low voice.
“The stupid whore barely remembers her name or how to suck a cock,” her john muttered, trying to side with me to save his ass. He was trying to get back up but I shoved him to the ground, and unsheathed my knife, cold fury burning in my stomach. “Did I ask for your opinion? Next time you interrupt us, I’ll have to give you a taste of my knife, got it?”
Leona’s mother met my gaze. “Leona went to the bus station. That’s all I know. I swear.” I searched her face. She was telling the truth. “So you will give me meth?”
“I will,” I said, disgusted.
“What do you even want with her?” Leona’s mother asked.
“She is mine,” I told her.
“Don’t hurt her. She loves you.”
Shock shot through me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She didn’t say anything, and I stormed out of the apartment. I hurried into my car and hit the gas. Was she running from me? Did she really think I would let her?
She loves you.
If she did, she wouldn’t run. I remembered Remo’s words after we’d killed Hall. That people always left. Leona had left too.
I stopped the car at the bus station. One of the bus drivers honked because I was barring his way, spotted me as I got out, and quickly swerved the bus around my car, almost hitting another bus.
I went to the ticket office.
“What can I do for you?” an older woman drawled in a bored voice.
I slid my mobile with a photo of Leona over to her. “Where did she go?”
The woman looked down at the screen, then shook her head. “I can’t tell you—”
“Where?” I repeated slowly.
She raised her eyes to mine. She didn’t recognize me. I pushed back my shirt and showed her the tattoo on my forearm. If she’d lived in Vegas for more than a few weeks, she knew what that meant.
“I…I think she took the bus to San Francisco. It left ten minutes ago.”
“Are you certain? I’d hate to waste my time.” I took my phone back and stashed it in my pocket.
She nodded.
It took me ten more minutes to find the bus. I positioned myself in front of it and hit the breaks. The bus driver honked at me and tried to overtake me on the left. I mirrored his move, so he had no choice but to come to a halt behind me.
I jumped out of the car at the same time as the driver opened the bus door. He was pulling his too big trousers up over his pouch as he walked down the steps, and shouted. “Have you lost your fucking mind? I’m calling the police!”
I ignored him and tried walking past him into the bus. His hand shot out and he grabbed me by the arm, then swung his fist at me.
Wrong move. I brought my forearm up, dodging his punch, then rammed my elbow into his face, hearing and feeling bones break. He sagged to his knees with a muffled cry. “Stay there. One more move, and you’ll never see your family again.”