Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Link is Lincoln Jacoby of Jacoby Investigative Services. He is also Karma’s cousin. Jacoby Investigative Services is owned and operated by Lincoln, Draven, and Nixon. Three brothers who are as big as Karma and determined to find every mark they are hired to locate. They are the best. And I’m not surprised there is a system in place to track Hollis. After everything his mother put Karma through, using him as her meal ticket, she can’t be trusted.
I roll into the kitchen area with Karma beside me as he switches his phone to speaker phone, and I put in my passcode for us to look at the video.
“How far did she get?” Karma asks the phone then looks to me, “they started calling hours ago, but my drunk ass was passed out and missed them. If she’s still in Georgia, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Hey, we got people, Ravage will step in if she’s in Georgia. One step at a time, brother.”
My phone alerts and we click the link in the text message.
“She’s at a laundromat called Get the Funk Out in St. Petersburg, Florida.” Link explains. “I hacked into the camera system once Hollis’ tracker stayed in place for more than five minutes. They have been here about twenty, I guess she needed to do some laundry.”
Karma slams his fist down on the table as the video comes to life.
There in color on the small screen is Hollis Jacoby and his mother. She’s pacing the space, hair out to there, and looking frazzled. Hollis is sitting on a bench playing on his phone, eating a pack of those white powdered donuts that possibly came from the vending machine in the laundromat.
“Thank fuck, he looks okay,” Karma states breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s tweaked as fuck.”
“I’ll get shit sorted, we’ll go down and get him,” I explain with my hangover headache leaving because I’m too pissed at this piece of shit mom to care about myself right now.
Before I can wheel away to start getting to my van to go grab my go bag, I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
On the small screen of my phone, there she was. Karma looks to me at the same instant it hits him, “Is that?” I nod.
Emmalee Van Etten.
Stocking the laundry supplies and wiping down machines.
What in the actual fuck is going on?
SEVEN
EMMALEE
Life lesson with Emma: When a road splits and you have to choose a path, don’t think just go.
My phone rings and I grab it from my back pocket. I don’t use this phone often. Everyone here has my prepaid flip phone I keep going to call me for work or my room. The only people who call this number are Diem, my mother, and the people who are in charge of my life until they get whatever the hell it is they want from me. Having two phones is a pain in the ass I never realized I would have to deal with.
The caller ID says it’s him. My heart beats faster, my palms get sweaty, and my mind races. In the beginning he called frequently. I didn’t answer. I got to the point, I even called Diem from prepaid phones for a while trying to let him think I cancelled this number. Whatever number I would call Diem from, he called me back. I didn’t answer. Eventually, he quit calling, and I made peace with it. I also started video calling her from my laptop rather than a phone which cut back on him trying to reach me. Seeing his name, all these feelings well up inside me.
Wesson.
I don’t answer and send him to voicemail.
He rings again.
I can’t do this. Tears fill my eyes. I’m at work. I have things to do. He can’t be calling. We have nothing left to say. I keep this phone on me for Diem, my mother, and the strangers only. Wesson is none of those people. I can’t change things. There is nothing for either of us to say to each other.
I send it to voicemail.
He rings again.
I send it to voicemail. I’m not doing this. Plain and simple. If he calls again, I’ll turn it off. I have a life here, one that isn’t perfect, but it’s mine … sort of. These few decisions I’ve made are mine to own and I do. This is far from perfect, but I like where I’m at mostly.
The chime on the door gets my attention as I watch Stone walk in. He scans the space and there is a hard look on his face I’ve never seen before as he approaches me.
My phone still in my hand, it rings again. I look down and send it to voicemail. Before I can tuck it away in my back pocket it goes off again.
Fuck.
This can’t be happening right now. I have it good here, the Sinister Sons pay me in cash, they don’t ask questions about me and where I’m from and I don’t share. Stone is in my space when it goes off again. He looks to me, looks to the phone, and takes it before I can react.