Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Anyway, my point was there were times when he’d backed me into a corner and tried to hand me the Vaseline. Alex Burton didn’t fight fair. And as I explained before, I had a whole motto about fucking other people before they fucked you first.
But this one was sly, and, well quite frankly he’d bested me several times over. Not because he was more intelligent by any means. Not because he tossed around smarmy smiles like dinner mints at an all you can eat buffet. No, it was because Alex was the son of Robert Burton. Otherwise known as the master of deceptive business practices. Michael had taught me a lot about business, and almost all of it did me not a lick of good. I’d learned everything on my own in the school of hard knocks.
I wasn’t about to let some over-privileged snot nose WASP come in and take it from me. So this was where Mick came in.
Where did I find the six foot six hulking behemoth, you may ask?
Good question.
Would you believe me if I told you I found him trying to hot-wire my car after he’d broken into it?
I shit you not. There he was, ever so smoothly sitting in my fucking Jaguar like he owned the goddamn thing.
I was actually quite impressed with his balls. Not that I’d ever seen them, but you get the point. Even more impressive was the fact that he’d managed to break into it without setting off the alarm. Yeah, I know… it looks so easy in the movies. But it’s really not. There isn’t a hundred-thousand-dollar price tag on these beasts only to be equipped with kiddie security systems.
So, Mick intrigued me.
It was obvious he was homeless, so I invited him to take up residence on my sofa. Don’t go mistaking me for a philanthropist now- it was solely for my benefit. I saw something in Mick that could be of use to me. And soon enough, I knew exactly what that was.
Ex-special forces, Mick had racked up more medals and accolades than a homecoming queen in a high school yearbook. Raised on the streets of Detroit, he’d pulled himself out of the gutter and did everything a good soldier was supposed to. He’d made a life for himself in the face of adversity. It wasn’t until he was serving his glorious country overseas that the news came which would forever change his course.
His young and beautiful wife had been raped and murdered in their own home. I’ll spare you the gory details of everything that happened next, but it’s not too difficult to guess. The crackpot justice system failed Mick, so he took matters into his own hands. Though they’d never been able to prove it, he’d gutted his wife’s rapist like a fish.
Told you we had something in common, no? Okay, so maybe I’d never taken a life. But Mick and I, we understood each other. The only difference was once it was all said and done for him, he’d found himself at the bottom of a bottle. You already know how I felt about that. So I promptly sent him off to the best of rehabs and told him to get his fucking shit together. I had a new purpose for him.
Mick got on board with no resistance whatsoever. When he learned about my family, he was eager to help. It was nice- that sense of comradery. The idea that we were just two vigilante enforcers out to settle old beefs. But he drew the line when it came to hurting women, understandably so. He was the closest thing I had to a friend, even though I was technically his employer. Still, we’d been on shaky ground since that horrible night he’d discovered Brighton in the car. I didn’t quite know how to make amends for that either. Because while I gave the order, Mick was the follow through. His was the conscience that had to live with his actions though I doubted he could possibly feel any worse than me.
I had very few people in my life who held me accountable for my actions, but Mick did. I respected him for that. I respected that he had enough morals not to cross certain lines, and to give me the appropriate doses of verbal reprimand when I needed them. I’d failed her, it was true. However, what Mick couldn’t see was that my every move thereafter was to prevent it from happening again.
His face was impassive as I studied him. The marble paperweight sailed to and fro in my palms, the ebb and flow of its mass anchoring me. Mick appeared every bit the oaf upon first glance, but there was a lot more lurking beneath the surface than you’d expect. He was a gentle giant, but also a deadly one. I didn’t inspire a lick of fear in him, but he bowed to me nonetheless. There were certain things he felt he owed, but it wasn’t why he stuck around.