Chapter Forty-Nine
“Hotwire - to start the engine (an automobile, for example) without a key by short-circuiting the ignition system.”
Charming
She made a deal with the Grim Reaper. After everything I’d done to keep her away from this, to keep her safe.
She freaking comes here to his house and makes a deal.
Was it really too much to ask for a guy to be allowed to protect the woman he loves without her going and ruining it all?
When I got out of here, I was going to kill her. G.R. would be the least of her worries.
And I was getting out of here.
All I needed was for the opportunity to present itself.
It took forever. I waited hours, keyed up and pacing the room. The longer I waited the more afraid I became that I was going to be too late to stop her. If she killed someone for me, I would never forgive myself.
I knew what it was like to carry around guilt like that. I carried it around longer than Frankie had been alive. All these years… all these years I thought my sister killed herself because of me. Because I killed the man she loved. But she didn’t kill herself.
She was murdered, by my boss, in an attempt to control me. And then he stuffed her body in a secret closet in case he ever needed to control me again.
The worst part was it worked. He managed to turn me into a cold-hearted killing machine. Whatever he saw in me when I was in that ring, he’d been right because with a little manipulation, I turned into exactly what he wanted.
I was done being manipulated and controlled by him.
I wasn’t a puppet whose strings could be pulled for a desired effect.
My sister was gone… and while I realized I wasn’t directly responsible for her death, I was still involved.
If I hadn’t taken the job as an Escort, the Reaper never would have killed her.
There was nothing I could do for my sister now, but Frankie was here.
I could actually save her. History didn’t have to repeat itself.
I heard footsteps drawing closer so I put my back up against the wall, the same wall with the door.
Seconds later the door cracked open.
Someone swore. “He’s not in here.”
“What! How the hell did he get out this time? Let me see.” The door swung all the way open and one of the newer Escorts stepped inside.
I rushed him from behind, taking him by surprise and putting him into a headlock and ramming him straight into the wall. He fell out of my grip, unconscious.
“That’s for earlier,” I spat, reaching up to finger the knot where they hit me with the gun and then turned to leave.
Stooge #2 was waiting. I used all the anger and frustration built up inside me to power out a burst of pure energy, which struck the man and sent him back out into the hallway, slamming him into the wall.
I made it through the house in seconds and out into the driveway. I planned on running, but as I passed by his BMW Roadster, I changed my mind. Using the heel of my foot, I kicked out the driver-side window and let myself in.
Hotwiring it didn’t take me very long. Ninety years of practice made a guy pretty good at getting a car to go when you wanted it to.
G.R. rushed out into the driveway as I sped away. In his car. Before I pulled out onto the street, I stuck my hand out the window and gave him the finger.