Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“How long will you be gone?”
“Be back before dinner.”
“Don’t get hurt.” She tilts her face up for another kiss. I give her a lingering, tongue-filled one before forcing myself to break away.
I swipe my thumb across her wet lip. “Be good while I’m gone. No touching your pussy. I want you hungry for my return.”
“I could touch myself as an appetizer,” she suggests.
My blood turns hot at the thought of watching her masturbate. “Hold that thought. We’ll revisit when I get back.” I tell my feet to move toward the door. Once I’m in the SUV, my thinking is clearer. I have a mission to carry out, and the sooner I get it done, the faster I can return to Sadie.
According to Benson, the perp is the son of a wealthy hedge fund manager. I vaguely recognized the daddy’s name, but the son’s identity was new.
“He’s a rich kid with more money than sense. Grown up to think that everyone in the world exists to make him happy. Unfortunately, his dad is fond of him, so I don’t think you can make him disappear,” Benson had told me when he passed on the perp’s details.
I drive up to the gate of the Carmel house overlooking the ocean. A disembodied voice squawks, “Name please” from the speaker box.
“Sawyer Locke. I have an appointment with Peter Campbell.”
Elevator music switches on for about ten seconds while internal security verifies the information. Soon the metal and wood gate rolls open.
“Please park to the left behind the entrance. Mr. Campbell is expecting you.”
You bet your ass he is. At the doorway, a couple of black-suited men step forward and motion for me to raise my arms. I shake my head.
“Not today.”
One of them reaches out, but before he can make contact, a sharp “Stand down” echoes in the hall. Ten feet beyond the security guards, Peter Campbell glowers. His blue business shirt is rumpled, like he slept in it, and his hair is sticking up. His guards are visibly flustered at the man’s unkempt status, but they are unaware that Campbell has probably spent the last couple of days working nonstop to try to find a solution to his problem son.
“This way.” Campbell jerks his head down the hall. The sound of our shoes clacking against the limestone flooring is the only noise in the air. At the end of the hallway, Campbell directs me into his office. Like all Carmel homes on the ocean, this home is long and thin, with each room displaying a breathtaking view of the Pacific. Campbell walks over to the glass doors and contemplates the water. I stand by the entrance.
“Your request is nearly impossible,” he says finally.
“It’s not a request.”
“I would like an opportunity to send my son to therapy. There are quite a few good establishments that can assist him in overcoming his…” Campbell pauses to search for the right word.
“No.” Those establishments are nothing more than glorified country clubs with medication dispensers in the posh rooms. Louis Campbell would be out on the street and at my doorstep within twenty-four hours of his admission. “I want him gone. You can either send him where I told you to send him, or I can deliver him to you in a casket.”
Campbell whirls around. “You’re threatening to kill my son.”
“It’s not a threat.”
“He won’t last in that place.”
That place is a hard labor camp in northern Russia. It’s said that you go in, and you don’t come out. The perfect place for someone who has control issues. “That’s his problem.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Fine. Then I’ll send the photos to the press.” I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up the prepared email.
Campbell’s face turns white, and he lunges at me. “Wait! Wait!”
I hold the phone out of reach. The screen points toward Campbell, and he averts his gaze so he doesn’t see the images that he knows would ruin him.
“Okay. I’ll send him tomorrow.” Campbell’s shoulders slump in defeat. He staggers to his desk.
“Today. The plane is ready, and I’ll drive him to the airfield myself. It’s why I came.”
“You’re a monster,” Campbell accuses.
“You should know. You raised one.”
The two guards carry Louis’ restrained body to my vehicle. There’s no one else to see him off. Not even his father. It’s a sad ending to the stalker, but a necessary one. Sadie’s safety comes first. Always and forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Sadie
“Mom.” Sawyer shakes his head at his mom. I can’t keep my eyes off him. My man can fill out a suit better than anyone I’ve ever met.
“What? I can’t help it.” She clicks another picture of the two of us. Sawyer’s mom is so easy to love. I've seamlessly fallen into their lives somehow. “You didn’t go to prom or anything. You’ll give this to me.” I smile, loving the fact that even though Sawyer towers over her, he does as she tells him.