Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’ve never brought anyone here before.” He led the way to the front door and unlocked it, holding it open for her. “Stay here.”
She started to ask why, but then it hit her that he was likely going to sweep the house. Sloan nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. She knew how to shoot—in theory. Teague had dragged her and their other sisters out to a range a few times, but the gun he’d tried to convince Sloan was a good fit for her had felt cold and alien in her hands. She didn’t like guns. They were part of the world—of her world—but she didn’t want anything to do with them.
She wished she’d paid more attention now.
Standing there while she listened for Jude’s footsteps, she felt worse than useless. She took a step farther into the hallway, looking around. The place didn’t seem like a house that had been abandoned for months on end. There was no dust, and the whole room smelled faintly of evergreen. She inhaled deeply, taking in the big leather couches arranged around a massive river rock fireplace. The mantel looked like driftwood and sturdy enough for her to use it to scale the wall if she was so inclined.
Large windows took up the walls at the front and back of the house, giving a plain view of Jude’s truck and of the water. There wasn’t a beach, the ground dropping off sharply, though she wouldn’t know what kind of drop it would be without going outside to investigate.
“Sloan.”
She turned to find him at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s clear?”
“No one’s been here but the local woman I have come in every couple of weeks to clean. Her family has lived on the island for a couple generations and she’s got no ties to any of my enemies, though I monitor the situation.”
He would. Even without taking his family into account, being a hit man would generate enemies. It had to. “How does it work?” She motioned in a general direction. “The killing people thing.”
Jude raised an eyebrow. “‘The killing people thing’?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me. It’s a perfectly legitimate question.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a business transaction. I have an in-between man who accepts the jobs, and then I double-check the target and the information—no innocents under any circumstances. If I’m satisfied, I accept payment—seventy-five percent up front, the remainder after the kill is confirmed.”
It seemed so cold, but then she supposed it’d have to be. A hit man was the very definition of distanced and icy—to be any other way was to invite mistakes and an inevitably short lifespan as a result. “How many?”
“Do you really want to know?”
She started to say yes, and then stopped and thought about it. Would it make a difference? The facts of their meeting and the gray area that represented their future weren’t affected in the least by how many people he’d killed. It felt almost like asking a lover how many partners they’d had—something she most certainly would not ask Jude. The past mattered only in reference to the present. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve killed enough people to get good at it. I’m one of the best.”
“Do you like it?”
“I won’t spin some bullshit fairy tale about how they all deserved killing. Some did, some didn’t, but they all did something to earn the contract on their lives. I don’t love it, but I don’t lose sleep at night, either. I’m not a good man, sunshine. I’m one of the worst the world has to offer. Don’t try to make me some hero.”
Was that what he really thought?
She lifted her chin. “Well, I’m not exactly a blushing innocent, either. If I were the precious good girl you seem to think I am, I would have done something to stop all the hurt my family caused, even if it meant turning them over to the authorities. I know where the books are kept. I know where some of the bodies are buried. I could have. I didn’t. Sitting passively by might not make me a full-fledged monster, but I’m not a saint, either. So stop expecting me to flinch away from you or faint into a dainty puddle at your feet.”
“Strip.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’ve convinced me.” He didn’t grin; his expression didn’t so much as give a flicker of warmth. “Take off that tease of a sundress or I’m going to rip it off like I did the last one.”
Her body went warm and then hot, her legs shaking a little, her nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of her dress. One sentence was all it took and her body readied itself for him. She pressed her lips together, considering. “How much property around the house do you own?”