Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“It’s probably time I told you everything about your brother-in-law.” I glance at the door to Gem’s room. Stellan’s waiting there. He gives me the slightest nod of approval. “How much do you know about the mafia?”
KIRA
Gem was right. She usually is. Stellan taps his champagne glass against mine as I lounge in the seat next to his. The private plane is luxurious, beyond anything I’ve ever seen before, with its own little crew and a fully stocked kitchen.
“We’re only flying to Florida,” I say, marveling at the cashmere blankets and suite of entertainment options. As soon as my glass is empty, the flight attendant offers to top it up. I decline since this isn’t exactly that kind of trip. “This is sort of overkill, right?”
“This is sort of how we live now.”
I give him a sly smile. “Private planes and drive-by shootings. What a life.”
He grimaces and throws back his drink. He doesn’t turn it down when his refill arrives. “Prime and some of my men caught them. You don’t have to worry about them coming back.”
“Who were they? The Turks? And why would they want to hurt me?”
“I can’t say exactly what they wanted. Unfortunately, when I paid the survivors a visit, I wasn’t on my best behavior.”
I flinch slightly, but the idea of Stellan brutally murdering some men doesn’t bother me so much anymore. Not after what I saw at his ascension, and not after what we did in the graveyard.
“They’re getting closer, aren’t they?”
“Once we have the key and the book’s in my possession, the Turks won’t matter anymore.”
He sounds so sure of himself. I hope he’s right.
The flight’s uneventful. I can’t remember the last time I took a plane anywhere, but this is by far the best trip I’ve ever been on. We reach Jacksonville International Airport, and there’s already a big black SUV waiting. The driver’s a thickset man with a heavy Italian accent, and he clearly works for Stellan in some capacity.
“How far does your family reach?” I ask him once we’re on the road heading toward my mother’s address. She hit me up for money over a year back, which is how I know where to find her, and Stellan’s people confirmed that she’s still there.
“Far as we want it to. This man isn’t a part of my organization, but he does work for us.”
“Mercenary?”
“Of a sort.”
I watch the landscape roll past. The road cuts through thick stretches of pine and scrubby oak. It’s mostly flat wetland. Long-limbed birds fish in the marshes, and I think I spot a couple of alligators sunning themselves on rocks. We reach a small town called Palatka after about an hour, a place that looks like it was beautiful once but now is mostly falling apart. The driver heads to the outskirts and slowly rolls into a modest trailer park.
The houses here are small. Some are maintained, but others look like they’re barely touched. The main road through the development is paved, but the rest are gravel. Big propane tanks sit next to rusting flatbed trucks. Kids roam in packs, some playing football in the street. They stare as we pass them. It’s later in the day, and people are home from work. Lots of people sit on porches, staring out through screens. It doesn’t feel dangerous, but it doesn’t feel good either.
“I can’t imagine my mom living here,” I say softly as the driver parks out front of a plain trailer house at the end of a cul-de-sac. It’s not the nicest but not the worst either. A little white Civic is parked out front. “She loved designer bags. I remember she was so fashionable when I was little.”
“There’s a reason your father went into debt.”
“I know, it’s messed up, but still. This doesn’t feel like her.” I stare at the house, but I don’t move.
“You can stay in here. There’s no reason you have to go inside if you don’t want to.”
“No. I should.” But I still don’t open the door. “I want to face her. I haven’t seen her since she left.”
“She’ll be different. You know that. Years of using does that to people.”
“I know. Trust me, I know, I’ve seen it already.” I take a deep breath. I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. I’m angrier too. I’m pissed for Gem, for my father, for everyone.
If she hadn’t sucked him dry, if she hadn’t been such a shitty addict, a terrible wife, an awful mother—
But this is where we are.
Stellan gets out, and I force myself to follow.
A woman’s waiting on the porch. She’s watching with a cautious stare. It takes me a beat to recognize my mother looking ten years older than she ever did. Her hair’s frizzy and graying. She’s wearing a white blouse and faded jeans. She scowls when our eyes meet, and I get a flashback to when I was a little girl. I was always so afraid of her anger. But she can’t punish me anymore.