Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“There’s a woman coming. Let me know when she gets here.” They all nod, and I’m once again floored they don’t give me shit about hooking up with chicks at the office. I don’t and they know it. They better not be bringing chicks back here either. “Is Wren in?”
They all answer in the affirmative, but I’m already heading across the room to his office. Wren Nelson is my tech guy, and if he wasn’t the best in his field, I’d be less inclined to put up with the irritation that comes along with his working here.
Swinging his office door open without knocking, the first thing that hits me is how damn cold he likes to keep his office. I understand that some A/C is required with all the equipment, but you could probably hang meat in this damn place. Most days it’s no big deal, but this evening, it’s just one more damn thing that annoys the shit out of me.
The second thing I’m prepared for…
“This motherfucker.”
I snap my head to the right, glaring at the bird that always has something to say. He turns his head, angling it to the side so I can only see one yellow eye surrounded by stark white feathers.
“What did I tell you about that fucking bird?”
“That’s he’s amazing,” Wren says without even turning away from his stupid video games to look in my direction.
“Pretty bird,” the African grey parrot says, and even now I can hear the fucking sarcasm in his voice as he walks back and forth on his perch, head bobbing up and down like there’s a song playing only he can hear.
“Wren,” I snap, and that’s all it takes for my surveillance guy to drop his controller and turn in my direction.
“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to work up a complete dossier on Daniella Altieri. Start by finding out what went down at her condo tonight.”
His fingers are already working over the keyboard before I complete my demand. He’s efficient like that when he has to be.
I tap my foot on the ground as if it will help Wren pull the information faster, but I go rigid when I notice that Puff Daddy—stupid name for a stupid bird, if you ask me—is stomping out the exact same beat with his beak. He turns his head to the side once again when I glare at him.
A low, insanely humanlike chuckle escapes from his throat. He doesn’t possess an ounce of self-preservation, considering how many times I’ve threatened his life.
“There’s not much about tonight.” All of my attention turns to Wren. “Gunshot wound. Considered critical. Last update was him heading to the hospital.”
“Him? As in male, or are you assuming?”
“Male victim,” Wren says, pointing at the words on a screen I’m certain he doesn’t legally have the right to be reading.
Relief like I’ve never known washes over me.
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Dani?” I mutter to myself as Wren goes back to work.
“Holy shit,” Wren whispers. “Dude. Is this you?”
My eyes narrow on the computer screen, following the track of his finger to the picture there.
“Fuck off,” I hiss. “I need a full workup.”
“Look how much hair you had,” he continues, not giving up. “Look at those curls. I prefer it over the buzz cut, man.”
Even though I’m still irritated, I’m not as pissed as I would be if I hadn’t just found out that it wasn’t my ex-wife that was shot in her apartment. Of course, there are a million questions running through my head, but I give that relief a little time to breathe.
“When was this taken?” he asks, not pulling his eyes from the screen to the right which is running through screen after screen of information faster than my eyes can even focus on. He’s fucking with me, but he’s also managing to do what I need at the same time.
“Senior prom,” I mutter.
“You look like a baby.”
“I was.”
Things were so different back then. There’s a hopefulness in that kid’s eyes as he looks down at the girl in his arms, but that hope burned away so long ago it seems like a handful of lifetimes have passed since that photo was taken.
“Wow,” Wren mumbles. “Your wife, man?”
A wedding picture pops up, and I have to turn away. For the longest time, I thought that day was the best day of my life, until Dani bitched afterward about the simplicity of it all. She didn’t get the dress she wanted. She had to settle with a ceremony in my parents’ backyard instead of a huge party at a five-star hotel, or the destination wedding in Fiji she always hoped for. She only had two bridesmaids because I spent all of my time with her and didn’t have any other guys to stand at my side while I promised the rest of my life to her.