Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“How are you doing?” I glance over my shoulder, taking him in. He’s worked for me for several years after leaving the marines, but I know there’s more to him than meets the eye. His file told me so, even if he didn’t. It took him a while to admit his reasons for wanting this job. One being the income, but the other, focus. He knows about my resources and connections. His sister was taken just after he returned home, and he’s been looking for her ever since. I don’t mind him using my resources for it, but I wish he’d tell me.
I’m not a complete monster. I hope he finds her.
“I’m good. There’s been some talk about the priest moving down to NOLA after we cleared the girls from the one Carnevali mentioned,” he tells me as we stand side by side, watching a scene play out before us. A submissive getting her face fucked roughly, spit running down her chin as tears stream down her flushed cheeks. Her body merely a plaything for the man using her.
Pleasure is written all over his face, and I imagine having Scarlett in that exact position. I turn away, needing to calm down before I jump on the plane and head back to see her. Meeting Kahn’s gaze, I inquire, “And you’d like to sort that out for me?”
“I would.” It’s his way of telling me he needs this. There’s something more going down at the church with Father Lorenzo and his flock. “He’s been on my radar for a long time, and there’s someone there I’d like to ensure is safe.”
I’ll gladly allow him to fly out tonight to kill Lorenzo before the good Father steals more girls off the streets.
“Tell me something, Kahn,” I speak. “Does this have anything to do with the real reason you agreed to work for me?”
His gaze snaps to mine, and he nods. He knows that I know. If he were someone I didn’t respect, I would kill him right here, in front of everyone, and make sure people fear me. But for now, I’ll allow him to do what he needs to.
“Go. When you get back, I need to know everything.”
“Yes, sir.” He offers a salute before disappearing. Now that I’ve sorted him out, I make my way to the private room where I have a redhead waiting for me. She’s not Scarlett, but she’ll have to do.
6
Scarlett
By the time I reach my grandmother’s estate, I’m exhausted. The small town she lives in, Crimson Falls, Washington, is nothing more than a vast forested area with a few exclusive homes dotted within the trees. Hidden like a rare jewel, it sits amongst the tall pine trees, usually in clouds, with a light drizzle that can continue for days on end.
As the car draws nearer to the large estate, anticipation trickles down my spine like a snake slithering across the ground. The memory of Mr. Shaw’s words sends a cold shiver through me, which shakes me to the bone.
It’s been so long since I visited, but I knew it was time to see the old lady and spend time with her. She’s getting on in age, and from what Mom says, she’s not doing all that great. I’m also here to help her with the annual Bardot Ball that raises money for children abandoned by their parents or orphaned. The event sees guests drive up just for the evening, but there’s another worry that’s twisting my gut. Would Mr. Shaw be in attendance?
After he left, my parents told me he’s going to be around a lot more. I’m not sure why, or in what capacity, but they both seemed afraid of the prospect, which doesn’t sit well with me. As handsome as I find him, there is something sinister that sparks in his gaze.
We come to a stop just outside the mansion. The building is three floors of pure opulence. Wealth drips from every corner of my grandmother’s house, and as much as I’d rather be at home, it’s a reprieve from sitting and listening to my mother telling me what a disappointment I am.
The driver opens my door before offering me his hand, which I accept. The moment I step foot on the soft soil, awareness of being watched slithers over me. It feels as if there are eyes on me, waiting in the shadows. But as I turn to look out at the long driveway, taking in the trees surrounding the estate, I don’t see anything in the darkness. It’s late, nearing nine in the evening, and after the long day, I’m exhausted.
“Miss Bardot,” Ellington, my driver, calls to get my attention. “I’ll get the bags,” he tells me. “Please wait at the door for me.”
Nodding, I offer him a smile before making my way toward the large, ornate entrance that beckons. With a wrought iron handle and knocker, the dark wooden door sends more cold awareness through me.