Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“Who hurt Harley?”
“That fucking thug who was supposed to hold her for me, but he lost her. Where is she? I want to know where you’re hiding my love,” he demands, pointing the gun at my chest. This fool has no idea that there are cameras on him. Yes, I enjoy my privacy, but I make sure to secure my property, including my private elevator.
“Why would I know?” I ask, shaking my head in confusion.
“Because you didn’t go to Houston.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I have you monitored.” Yes, his cousin gave himself up to assist me today. He admitted that he only helped him because of family loyalty, but he quickly realized his error when he learned the extent of his cousin’s betrayal.
“Shooting me won’t win you Harley. She’d never forgive you.”
“She’s been brainwashed. I’ll convince her of our love again.” Wow, this fucker has lost it.
“What about your wife?”
“She doesn’t mean anything to me.” Right on time, the elevator doors open, and I press the button in my pocket, cutting the power. Everything goes dark, and I can see his eyes widen just before it’s completely pitch black. He tries to fire, but I’ve planned ahead.
My blade slices his hand first, sending the bullet into the wall in my foyer. Quickly, I slice his chest, and then drop down and run the blade over the back of his knee. I enjoy this way more than I should, but then again, his betrayal cut too deep for me to care.
“You bastard,” he roars, coming at me like a linebacker, tackling me at full force. With a grunt, I fall back, hitting the wooden table in the entryway, but I counter, punching him in the jaw. He slides off me long enough for me to land on my feet. This time I pull out my gun to take care of business, but I think it’s better to use his. So, I pick it up and fire it as he comes at me again with another gun in his hand.
The cops are already on their way. The entire video from the elevator had been recorded, but my apartment is dark. I hit the lights and see my place is trashed. It’s more than our fight. The fucker had gone in and destroyed it. My walls look like someone took a sledgehammer to them, and glass is everywhere. My television has bullet holes in it.
My phone rings, and it’s security. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
A moment later, the elevator doors open, and four uniformed officers enter my condo. “Mr. Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“Please drop the gun.”
“Oh.” I set it down. “It was his.” I point at the dead fucking asshole bleeding out on my floor.
“What happened here?”
“He destroyed my home, but if you’re talking about why he’s dead, it’s because he tried to kill me. My security has the footage from the elevator. I shot him with his own gun.”
“You sound extremely unbothered by his death.”
“When you see the footage from the elevator, you’ll understand why I don’t care that a man I had as the head of my security forced me to kill him.”
“He had another weapon?”
“Yes. I only got the one gun away from him. I got the shot off before he tried to shoot me again. The first time, it hit my wall over there.” I point to the foyer. One of the officers goes to the foyer to inspect my claims.
My phone rings, and I answer it. “Okay. Please bring it up.”
“My security is sending up the footage from the elevator.”
“Very well. The detective would like to interview you, but I need to do a cursory scan around the condo to inspect the rooms. Is there anyone else here?”
“There shouldn’t be anyone else here.” He nods and takes out his gun. He walks around, room by room, opening the door and calling out that he’s the police. Every room is silent, but he lingers up there a bit longer. I heard him say something on the walkie, calling for CSI.
“Sir, did you have a guest in your home?”
“No. I never have anyone in my home. Who is up there?” Well, except for Harley, but that’s none of his business.
“There’s a woman.” I try to run past him, but his men stop me. “I can’t let you up there and contaminate the scene.”
“God, no. Please tell me it’s not Harley. She’s supposed to be in Steeleville.” I call her phone several times and get no answer.
I call my uncle, and he picks up on the first ring. “Hey Dylan. Is everything okay?”
“Where’s Harley?”
“She’s laying down in bed. She was sleepy, and I think she misses you a lot. She woke up enough to eat a little, but then went right back to bed.”
“Good, thank God. Okay. I’ve got to go. I’ll call her later.” I end the call.