Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
That didn’t surprise me. “For as much as they hate the Merchants, the Brotherhood doesn’t mind ripping us off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Back in the old days, my dads structured their gang the same way. Members at the bottom of the ladder report to the rung above them, but they don’t know who’s above that person, and no one knows who’s at the top.” I flapped a hand toward the guys on the lawn. “Abraham was an enforcer. Tough. Violent. Brutal. But also fakely sincere and gentlemanly. He kept an iron grip on the foot soldiers, keeping them always off-balance by the fact they could never guess when he’d turn and slaughter them all.
“But whoever holds Abraham’s leash... that’s the question.”
She clicked her tongue, tossing her head. “Hera, fuck them, but they’re a weird, pointless gang. They don’t trust each other. They don’t like each other. They don’t care when their fellow brothers catch a bullet in their head. I doubt they even know each other’s real names. This must be entirely about revenge for all of those guys, because they’re damn sure not enjoying each other’s company for another reason.”
I couldn’t argue with a single thing she said. From how quickly and easily Abraham shot Madison in the face to how little the brothers cared when Abraham caught his own bullet, they called themselves brothers but they couldn’t be further from.
The one at the top of the ladder may have thought they were clever ripping off my dad’s old gang structure, but if they were really smart, they would’ve asked themselves why old Daddy Cash drop-kicked that structure into the trash.
A true crew lives and dies by loyalty and trust, and no one trusts a lurking, anonymous shadow. There was a reason the Merchants have ruled for decades, while the Brotherhood can’t take us out with an army of assassins and trackers up our asses.
We’re the best for a reason, bitch, I thought as Edwin unknowingly led us to the car our stolen keys belonged to. And you’re about to find out the hard way.
“Malcolm? Malcolm, turn on the lights,” Edwin called. “I can barely see a thing.”
Bee tapped the key ring, making the headlights flash their signal about twelve feet ahead.
Silently, I signaled to Bee—giving her one last nod before she broke right and I broke left—disappearing into the dark.
Thud.
“Ow!”
“Who’s that?” Edwin cried, whipping around. “Who’s there?”
“Brother? Brother Edwin, it’s me,” Bee ground out—her voice deep and gravelly like that Malcolm shit. “I fell! I—I think I messed up my ankle.”
“That Merchant bitch! Do you have her?” The man was going wild spinning back, forth, around and around with his gun—aiming at twigs and leaves. “Did she get away?”
“No, she’s in the car— Ah,” Bee carried on, selling it like a pro. “She’s secure. Just help me!”
Edwin cursed. “All right, for fuck’s sake. Just tell me where you are.”
He stomped off in the opposite direction as I crept up to his rather modest four-door sedan. Climbing inside the backseat, I tugged my black sack back over my head and hid my hands behind my back for good measure.
I waited while Bee faked him out, discovering her ankle miraculously healed before Edwin could get too close and realize she wasn’t who she said she was.
Noise sounded outside the car, signaling Edwin’s return.
“—fucking fool wasting my time.” Slam! “Hurry up and get in the fucking car!”
Shifting and shuffling, and then I felt a groping hand on my side.
“Safety first,” Edwin taunted as he buckled me in. “You’re our grandest prize, Genevieve Hunt. The key to our victory. Can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Awww.” My hands flashed. As quick as my left rose to yank the sack off, that’s how quickly my right flew at his face. “If only I felt the same about you.”
Wide-eyed shock blew up his brows just in time for me to punch him dead in the nose, cracking the cartilage beneath my knuckles.
“Argh!” Edwin snapped back, bumping the back of his head against his headrest. He scrambled for his gun as Bee dove inside.
Ripping it free off his waistband, Bee leveled it between his eyes—her grip firm and steady staring down the barrel of her revenge against the soulless monster who chained her to a wall like an animal.
Chest heaving, nose weeping, Edwin slowly sat back, his gaze darting between me and the gun.
Smart guy. He knows I’m just as deadly.
“Now, then, Edwin.” I reached around, grabbed his seat belt, and wrapped it around his wrists—securing him. “We don’t have much time, so let’s get straight to business. Where’s the bomb?”
Edwin’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Okay, look, this doesn’t have to go down this way. Let’s all just calm down and—”
“—have a nice pleasant chat with the psycho mass murderer planning to bomb a house full of innocent people?” I finished—my voice just as calm and pleasant as his. “No, thanks.”