Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Her cheeks pale. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make sure that video isn’t going anywhere else.”
“How?” She hugs herself. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Killing won’t be necessary.”
She takes an uncertain step toward me. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Darling.” I smile. “Trouble is my middle name.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts.” I walk to my office. “Give me the address.”
She follows on my heel. “It’s a dangerous neighborhood. He may not be alone.”
I open the safe and take out my Glock. She gasps when I shove it into the back of my waistband.
“You said no killing,” she says.
“It’s a dangerous neighborhood. You said so yourself.”
“I’ll worry about you. Let me come with.”
Cupping her nape, I drag her closer. “I won’t be able to focus if my attention is on protecting you.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Promise?” she asks in a small voice.
I give her another smile. “Promise.”
She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her cheek on my chest. It’s tempting to hold her like this, and it’s even harder to push her away.
“Address, Violet,” I say in a stern tone.
She rambles off the number of a house and the name of a street in a shadier part of Triomf. With a last kiss on the top of her head, I set her aside, grab my helmet and jacket, and leave.
While driving to my destination, I call Walter. Thanks to the Bluetooth operated earphones built into the noise cancelling helmet, I can hear him over the engine of the bike, and vice versa.
He answers with, “Looking for another tattoo artist? Joseph told me your girl is mighty talented.”
“Thanks again for that, but this is about something different. I need a team of five guys to work all the houses in a street.”
“How many houses are we talking about?”
“Three blocks on either side. About thirty-six.”
“That’s doable. I assume you want this done sooner than later.”
“Immediately.”
“What are we looking for?”
“A video or photos of a woman who visited a house on that street.”
“That’s a tough one. Photos are viral. They spread faster than a wildfire. We can do our best, but—”
“I’ll send you a text with the details.”
“What incentive are we using? A bribe?”
“Go up to a million if you must. If that doesn’t work, good old roughing it up always does the trick.”
“Gotcha. Are we talking about Gauteng or farther?”
“Triomf, Joburg.”
“It shouldn’t take us more than an hour to get there from Pretoria. I’ll dispatch my men as soon as I get the details.”
I thank him and hang up just as I take the offramp to the west. At a gas station, I pull over and send the address via an encrypted message to Walter. I download Gia’s profile picture from her Facebook account and email that to Walter too, instructing him to look for any photos or videos of that woman. After pocketing my phone, I’m on my way again, making good time via the backroads to Triomf.
The Harley makes noise, attracting attention, but Harleys aren’t uncommon in this neighborhood. The Aston Martin would’ve stood out like a sore thumb.
I quickly locate the address. The house sits in the middle of a row of semi-detached units. Like all the houses in the block, the lights are on. A television blares from next door. Loud heavy metal comes from the other side. The driveway gate stands open. It looks to be broken. I pull inside and park my Harley behind the one standing under an army-style camouflage awning. The old army edition tells me the guy is military. Old school.
Keeping my gloves and helmet on, I activate the infrared in the visor and cut through the weeds in the front garden to his door. I don’t pick up an alarm system. Avoiding unnecessary attention from the neighbors, I don’t knock or kick the door down. I pick the flimsy lock in five seconds. The hallway is empty. Smells of pepperoni and cheese hang in the air. The sounds of a sitcom come from a room on the right. A bluish light falls from the arch.
Locking the door behind me, I pocket the key. I remove my helmet and leave it quietly on the floor before clicking off the safety and pointing the Glock in front of me as I stalk toward the sound and light. I pause before every doorframe, surveilling each room as I go. The first room on the left holds an unmade bed and a ramshackle dresser. Clothes are scattered over the floor. A pair of worn boots stand next to a rocking chair.
An arch gives access to a kitchen with a gas stove covered in food residue. Dirty dishes are stacked high in the sink. I cross the floor, taking care not to make a sound, and lock the back door. I slip that key into my pocket too and back up into the hallway. A toilet is visible through the doorway at the end of the corridor. The only remaining room is the one where the noise is coming from.