Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
But it’s also because she’s never been here before.
“I was skeptical,” she says, talking close, our shoulders huddled together. “But I have to admit, this is really cool.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“There’s nothing comparable in Philly. Maybe Kelly Drive, but that’s not really the same.”
“This is New York. We’re the center of the world.”
Her lips press together at that. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”
“You think your tiny little town is better than this?” I gesture toward Manhattan’s skyline, not much smaller behind us.
“I think Philly’s got plenty to offer.” She raises her chin defiantly. “You New York pricks always think you’re the best.”
“Because we are.”
“And yet you’ve been driving down to my city for years.”
I grin and lean in to kiss her lightly. “Only for you.”
“Yeah, sure, I bet you were getting cheesesteaks every single time.”
“Never in my life.”
“Well, there’s something we’ll have to fix.”
She leans against me. I wrap my arms around her, a strange glow in the pit of my stomach, moving up into my chest.
I don’t know this feeling. I’ve never experienced it before. I study myself, trying to figure it out, until I suddenly realize.
This is contentment.
We spend a few more minutes together until I spot a pair of people moving toward us through the crowd. I know the girl right away. She was in Fyodor’s bed the night I cut his throat. She seems younger here, even more inexperienced, and she looks absolutely fucking terrified as she comes toward me.
A man follows close. He’s tall and broad with a severe stare. We’ve never met before, but I know him.
Taras Morozov. Son of the Pakhan and one of the top generals.
“Why don’t you go sit over there?” I murmur in Bianca’s ear, gently nibbling at her. I direct her toward a bench not far away. She’ll be in my sightline at all times, but not close enough to overhear what we say.
“Meeting time?” She glances over her shoulder. “He looks scary.”
“He’s a big kitty cat, don’t worry.”
“Compared to you, that’s absolutely true.” She crushes her mouth to mine, eyes shining with excitement and nerves. “Good luck.” She moves away and sits where I had indicated, leaning back and pretending like she’s not paying close attention.
I turn toward the two Russians. The girl stands in front of me, face pale. I note the tremor in her hand as she gestures from me to Taras.
“I brought him just like you told me to,” she calls over the wind. “That makes us square, right? I’m only here to make sure you know I did what you asked.”
“Well done,” I tell her, staring Taras down. He holds my gaze, apparently unfazed. That makes him either brave or stupid. Probably a bit of both. “Go keep my wife company. Make sure she’s happy.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl scurries away and sits awkwardly next to Bianca.
Taras comes closer. He’s in a black jacket and jeans. If I saw him on the street, I wouldn’t think much. No jewelry, no expensive watches, nothing to mark him out as a powerful member of a strong Bratva.
“This is a good spot to meet,” he says, joining me at the railing. I keep my body angled so I can see him and Bianca. She’s chatting with the girl. “Wind makes sure any listening devices won’t work. Crowds make violence impossible. Cameras everywhere as well.”
“I wanted you to feel at ease.”
His lips tug into a sharp smile. “You killed Fyodor.”
“Yes, I did. He was not as cooperative as I had hoped he would be.”
“He was very useful to my family. A magician with numbers. Half the shit he did, I never understood it, but somehow we always came out on top when tax season rolled around.”
“A good numbers man is hard to replace.”
His smile turns sour and sharp. “That’s extremely true. And now we’re forced to try.”
“I wish you the best of luck.”
He snorts a short laugh and leans an elbow on the railing. He seems completely casual and at ease, but I already noted two guns in his belt and a knife strapped to his calf. He came armed and ready.
“What do you want, Ghostman? It’s not every day I go to a meeting with a man of your reputation.”
“Fyodor didn’t enjoy our chats. I think you’ll do better than he did.”
“Perhaps.”
“I’m here because we have a problem.” I pause as a young couple walks past, too lost in each other to notice me and Taras having a serious conversation. “You tried to bomb my wife.”
“Seems it didn’t work out.” He glances over his shoulder. I’m tempted to kill him right then. It would be easy. A knife to the throat, a knee to the groin, and I’d heft him straight over the edge and into the sea. “She’s a pretty one. You must be proud.”