Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Each fire station had blue prints of the local businesses on file in case of a fire so that the on duty captain could plan accordingly. The Bayou Funeral Home’s plan didn’t match up, making it obvious to me and the rest of my club that they had a little extra room unaccounted for, and reason to hide it.
As a firefighter, that ticked me off. The firefighters that went into burning buildings had a right to know what they were getting themselves into; Gustavo Amadeus was a selfish prick who deserved what was about to come at him.
Just one more nail in Gustavo’s coffin.
“This doesn’t change the plan. Does it?” Silas asked as he walked around me and opened the door to the building.
Sebastian gave me a hard pound on the back as he passed, making my feet come unstuck, allowing me to follow them inside.
Trance was to come in later with Radar, who would alert Trance to the drugs, effectively signing the warrant that allowed him to search any facility, and take each and every one of Gustavo’s employees into custody. Followed shortly by searching his properties and other businesses for more evidence.
We just had to get back far enough to provide Radar the opportunity to alert, first.
Of course, nothing ever works as it should. The best-laid plans always backfire when your father’s the ultimate douche on the planet.
The first thing I observed was the sickly sweet stench of flowers as we walked into the front room.
It was elegant with deep maroon and hunter green coloring. There were sedate paintings of forests and bayous, as well as some wildlife moderately interspersed throughout. The carpet was plush and hunter green, allowing my shoes to sink into it as soon as my feet entered the room.
The desk in the front of the room was covered in fliers of the upcoming viewings happening in the next four hours, as well as a guest list. A woman, all of twenty-five at most, was dressed in a prim black pantsuit with her brown hair styled into a partial up-do that kept the fly-aways out of her face.
I knew immediately that she hadn’t worked there long. She was too sweet. Her eyes showed every single emotion she was feeling, and right at that moment, it was remorse.
She didn’t seem to care that fifteen men had entered the room wearing their Dixie Wardens cuts, or that most of them had tattoos that were very colorful. Color and language wise.
No, her eyes were trained on my father who was in the corner of the god-forsaken room crying about his ‘precious girl’ being gone.
Of course, it could’ve been genuine. However, he didn’t have the right to that anymore. Not after everything he’d done.
My mother was sitting down next to my father. Her hands were clutched tightly to her chest, and she’d clocked me as soon as I’d walked in, causing her eyes to widen. Mother’s intuition or some shit.
She wasn’t crying now, but I could tell by the deep bags underneath her eyes and the paleness to her skin that she had been.
“Ma’am?” My disgusted voice brought the woman’s attention from my parents to me, and she smiled warmly at me.
“Can I help you?” She asked me.
“Name’s Tiago Spada, I’m here to checkout some of the rooms, get some things ironed out before the viewing of my sister in a couple of days.” I told the woman.
Her eyes widened. “Of course, I’ll be glad to show you the way.” She said as she hustled in the direction of the back room.
Ignoring the call of my father, I followed, knowing for a fact that my brothers would keep them from following me.
I didn’t know how I did it so calmly, but I walked behind the pretty woman at a sedate pace as she led us into a back room.
***
Adeline
“What do you think?” I asked Tunnel, as Mr. Platt walked into a back room to take a phone call.
Mr. Platt looked so familiar. Like I’d seen him before from somewhere.
Tunnel’s eyes, which had been on the retreating man’s back, turned to me. “Something isn’t right. Kettle’s parents, although they were upset, didn’t look like they were trying to take over any funeral plans. I tried calling Kettle on the way here, and he didn’t answer, which means that his phone was turned off. They’d told me the phones were going off as they left the parking lot this morning. How was Kettle supposed to relay a message to you if he couldn’t have answered in the first...”
I was too absorbed in watching the side room where Mr. Platt had disappeared. If I hadn’t been, I might have been able to tell Tunnel that he had a lead pipe headed towards his head.
One that was in the hands of my own frickin’ brother.
“Tunnel!” I exclaimed as he went down like a sack of wheat. “Jefferson! What the fuck, what are you doing?”
“Quiet,” my brother hissed. “You’re in so much fucking danger that it’s not even funny. I’ve done everything in my power to keep you out of this shit, but you keep shoving your head back in there. Jesus Christ. I don’t even know what the fuck to do anymore.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t understand!” I said as I dropped down to my knees to check Tunnel’s pulse.
It was strong and steady, allowing me to take a deep breath for the first time since I’d seen him drop.
“The guy you were talking to is a very dangerous man. Do you know who that was?” He asked as he glanced nervously at the door Mr. Platt had disappeared through.
Jefferson looked different. Almost...normal for him. What he used to look like before dad died. Although I could still tell he was a little underweight, he wasn’t so sickly looking that I could see his cheekbones. Was he getting clean?
“Jefferson, what are you doing here? What’s...”
“Jefferson. Get her in the locker. With any hope they won’t find her and she’ll be dead before anyone’s the wiser. We’ve got company in the parking lot.” Mr. Platt said as he came out of the room he’d disappeared through earlier.