Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
I walk into the lobby, spotting the man. He’s standing in a large coat at the desk, leaning against it casually. The receptionist has saucers for eyes and is holding onto the desk like his life depends on it, but it’s not obvious unless you know what to look for.
The man turns when he sees the receptionist looking. I expect him to raise this so-called gun, but instead, he closes his coat and walks casually toward me. He’s in his mid-twenties, tall and fit, and holding himself like a soldier. He looks strong.
“Hello, sir,” he says.
I keep myself calm, squaring my feet in case this gets violent. “Seems like you’re causing quite the scene, kid.”
He flinches when I call him kid. “I’m sorry for the dramatics, but I need you to come with me. I’ve got some folks who want to speak with you.”
I shake my head. “That would be very foolish for me to do unless you have an extraordinary incentive.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we do.” We do. Somebody hired him. “Several of my buddies are waiting to move in on Paul Taylor’s address. Either they go in there, or you come with me.”
I reach into my pocket.
“What are you doing?” the man snaps, moving to open his coat.
People walk by us, not seeming suspicious at all, lost in their own worlds.
“Checking the time,” I say, taking out my phone before he can react. I was right before. My most recent text, three minutes ago, is from the security firm. All green. That’s their phrase, meaning they’re operating at one hundred percent, and there have been no issues.
“Send in your men, pal,” I tell him.
His mouth opens slowly. “That’s your best buddy right there. You’d throw him to the wolves that easily?”
I shrug. “There’s nothing you could do, son, to make me go with you. If you try to grab that shooter, I’m going to fucking ragdoll you. So do what you have to do.”
The man flinches, laughs, and shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I’ve got to do this. I gave my word. I took the job. You’re coming with me, sir.”
“Then I guess you’re going to need that gun.” I take a small step forward. His coat is closed, meaning he has to unzip it and grab the weapon. I’m going to dive on him the moment he does that. “Or we can make a deal.”
“They said you’d offer me a deal. How much, then? Double? Triple what they paid me?”
“No, the deal is turn around, walk away, and be grateful I didn’t break your fucking bones.”
“Listen, old man. I’m getting sick of you.”
He throws a telegraphed right hand, letting me slip to the side. No, it was a setup for his left uppercut. I take it on the chin, head snapping back, stars bursting across my vision. All around us, people are screaming. My boxing days return to me—muscle memory.
Hands up, I scramble and get into position. He throws an overhand and then a quick left. I wait, time the left, and then step in with a powerful right to the nose. I get lucky, and he starts leaking blood right away. He throws himself at me and presses me against the wall.
“Mother… fucker…” He sounds shocked I’m putting up this much of a fight, as if he thought his youth would be enough.
I grab the back of his neck with both hands, wrench him down, and deliver one hell of a knee to his already busted nose. He yelps and then starts throwing wild hands. This is the thing people forget about street fights. They’re messy, and the attacker, if they’re motivated enough, doesn’t stop.
Kneeing him twice more stuns him for a moment. I try to trip him to the floor, but he runs backward quickly, going for his coat. I sprint after him and tackle him on the desk. Equipment flies everywhere as he falls over the desk.
In the flurry, I see her, and it changes everything. She’s standing in the doorway, gaping at us, her hand to her mouth. “Sophie, get out of here,” I roar, and then my world is spinning with chaos, pain, and mayhem. He’s just hit me across the head so hard I’ve lost my balance.
I’m falling. I catch myself, my vision blurry. A figure moves dimly as though through the mist. He’s running toward my woman. Goddamn it. I duck my head and sprint, not even running in a straight line.
Sophie screams when he grabs her wrist. A second later, I’m on him. I think I black out. My hands move so fast, impact after impact, jolting through my knuckles and up my arm.
When my senses return a little, I’m on top of the bastard, shouting as loud as I can, “You don’t lay your fucking hands on my woman! You don’t have the right to hurt my woman!”