Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Showers were open for use anytime when we weren’t locked down in our cells except for mealtime and during head count. I waited until yard time and took a chance that most would want to maximize their time outside and the showers would be empty.
I was right, but not for long. I’d gotten the dye in my hair and worked it in, dusting my brows with my eyes closed when I heard footsteps.
Fighting was a normality inside. If not for the mixed martial arts training I’d undertaken, knowing that I was going deep undercover with a cartel and couldn’t rely completely on weapons, I would have lost my life or mind many times over the past three months.
But not even that saved me that day. Someone had found out I was a former Chicago cop. And just after I’d finished with my hair, I closed my eyes for a second and it happened. I was blindsided by a blow to the head. A guard, an honorable one, heard the ruckus and broke it up. A few broken ribs, bruised kidneys and other things I couldn’t bear to think about. I spent a few days in the infirmary and a few more in solitary. Solitary may save your life, but it can break your mind as you suffer through the replay of memories.
I woke to a dark room with the blackout blinds in place. I couldn’t tell if the clock meant eleven in the morning or evening. It was the latter. Thank goodness for twenty-four-hour room service. I placed another order, and the food had never tasted so good. The meal I’d wolfed down the previous night, I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how the flavors burst on my tongue. Now I did.
I spent the next several hours trying to keep my mind clear of memories by switching between news and shows with a nap or two in between. When the time came to leave, I was dressed and ready. The tux Griff had sent to my room fit like it was tailored for me. I didn’t wait for Kelsey’s call. She was my driver again tonight. I was just inside the hotel lobby doors when she pulled up in the same sedan from the other day.
She parked and came around to open my door like any professional car service. I got in and didn’t speak until we were underway.
“Everything’s in place?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she said pleasantly.
“Do we know if she’s there?”
Kelsey shook her head, which caused her hair to glide across her shoulders in a tumble of cascading waves. According to Griff, she had a dress in the back and an invitation that would fool anyone if needed. She was my backup if necessary, and her makeup and hair were ready for the switch.
“It’s just you and Griff?”
“Yep.”
Griff’s company, as one of the premium private security firms for the rich and famous, had other clients. What he was doing for me was pro bono. Apparently, one of his more famous clients had a thing in LA that required a team there pronto without warning. That left him short on personnel. Funny how he’d chosen Kelsey to keep close.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got this. Griffin is already in place.”
Griff was posing as the catering manager. He’d been on site since early this morning. He was feeding Kelsey the layout of the mansion where the fundraiser for the senator was happening. Ruin’s father was a senator and came from old money. The old man had sent his son to a prominent prep school where the boy reigned terror. It was that privilege that gave Ruin the idea that he was above the law. It sickened me.
We pulled up a long drive to a mansion that mimicked the back view of the White House with the many columns across the front. Already, there were people walking up the wide stairs to the grand double-door entryway.
“Are you ready for this?” Kelsey asked.
A black-tie affair to raise money for the senator in his upcoming election shouldn’t be a dangerous activity. But with Ruin in attendance, one couldn’t be sure.
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
The plan was to throw Ruin off by meeting him, not as the persona of Ruin he’d created. Rather as Randolph Covington III, the name he was born with. When he knew that I knew who he really was, we hoped it would help in the negotiations to get Tayla back.
We had to wait a few minutes in the car line before I was brought to the front of the circular drive to be let out. Kelsey didn’t have to get out to open my door, because the event had porters to do just that.
The night was cool but not cold. I hurried up the stairs and didn’t dottle like others who were milling about and talking to other guests. Last thing I needed was small talk and someone to ask me who I was.