Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
His thoughts were interrupted by Karson walking into his office. His downtown office. His legitimate one. The one that Karson had never set foot in because Jay made sure to keep those two areas of his life very separate.
There was no reason for Karson to be walking through that door except the end of the fucking world. The end of Jay’s world.
Jay moved his hands from the desk to the tops of his thighs because they were shaking.
“Is she dead?” he asked, voice flat, his insides shriveling up, dying.
Karson shook his head once. “No.” Eric is. Shot
Nothing inside of Jay relaxed. He stopped planning his own imminent death, pushing those plans in the back of his mind. Because there were many, many things that could be happening to Stella right now that would take her from him. That would set fire to his fucking life.
His hands were still shaking.
“Eric’s dead,” Karson repeated in a clipped tone, face cold and empty eyes flickering with minute flashes of emotion. Jay knew that Stella meant something to Karson, because Stella meant something to Wren, and Wren was everything to Karson.
Jay nodded away the death of one of his men. One of his friends. Or as close as he could’ve been to one. Eric had stood next to him at his wedding. Eric was Stella’s friend, he knew that because she talked about him and her friend Kieran all the time, talking about how perfectly they matched and what great style Eric had. Jay’s heart clenched remembering Stella like she was already gone.
“Shot on the street,” Karson continued. “They left him there. Took her.”
“We know it was the Kuznetsovs?” Jay asked, voice even.
“Not explicitly,” Karson replied. “But we got lucky. They were walking to their car, the car has a camera, front and rear. Got everything, managed to ID one of the Vors. They weren’t trying to hide it like...” Karson cleared his throat. “Not like last time.”
Jay did not have the fucking energy to think about Karson right now. “Go to every single one of the known locations, find people who matter. Not fucking mules or anyone expendable. They won’t know anything. Because they planned this. It’ll take longer to find people who know shit.” Jay took a breath and lifted his hands, setting them back on his desk. They weren’t shaking anymore. “Kill all of them.”
Karson’s eyes flickered ever so slightly. “Are you sure?”
Jay stared at the man in front of him. “They have my wife,” he stated in little more than a whisper.
“I know, and we’re—”
“They have my WIFE!” he roared, sweeping his hands across the desk, sending everything clattering to the floor including his computer. “You don’t get me a location on her or bring in someone who knows her location, I will rip you apart piece by piece.” Jay knew he was talking to his friend. One who had remained by his side through the years, had come up the ranks with him and had helped him take over this whole empire.
Jay knew that, somewhere inside of him. Jay also knew that he was speaking the truth. In the midst of this, there were no friends, only foes. He would rip apart anyone and everyone on this fucking earth to get to her.
Or he would die trying.
Because if anything happened to Stella, he was dead already.
Four Hours Later
Karson was out, killing while Jay was at Klutch having a meeting with one of his top lieutenants, Hector. Hector had been with him almost as long as Karson had. He’d stood up at his wedding, purely because of that.
“We have the location of the warehouses where the Russians store their coke for distribution?” Jay asked calmly.
Hector nodded.
“Take them over,” Jay commanded. “Kill every single man working in them. Once that is done, burn them to the ground. Product and all.”
Hector blinked. “Sir. That is millions of dollars’ worth of cocaine. Tens of millions of dollars’ worth.”
Jay nodded.
Hector gaped. “You will start a war if you do this.”
Jay’s hands were flat on his desk. He ached to clench them together into fists, itching to beat them against flesh, pummel it down to nothing, to grind bone down to dust. But that was not how he got things done. That was not how he got Stella back. Getting Stella back—for now, at least—meant sitting behind this desk, giving orders.
“So what?” Jay asked.
Hector swallowed visibly. Jay knew that other men in his employ were intimidated by him at the best of times, and this was far from the best of times. Everyone was downright terrified—as they should’ve been. No one else, save Karson, would even think to question an order.
“So what? A war with the Russian Mafia, right now?” Hector pressed.
Because it was Hector, and the man had saved his life countless times, had bled for him and had helped him take control, Jay did not scream at him, fire him or beat him bloody.