Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Sully’s right, Cass,” JJ said. I watched in astonishment as he lowered his gun and then turned his back on my father.
He fucking turned his back… and he remained between me and my father, giving the asshole an opportunity to shoot him in the back. We hadn’t checked him or the desk for weapons. What if—
“This is a waste of time,” JJ said to me as he took a few steps forward. His eyes pinned mine. I recognized the look for what it was. He knew something. JJ had caught something I had yet to process. I gave him the tiniest of nods to indicate I understood not to pull the trigger the second he moved out of the way. I watched in surprise as he went to the bar that was stacked with an endless array of liquor bottles.
It was the same direction my father had shifted his eyes in.
JJ stuck his gun in the waistband of his jeans and studied the various bottles. “Not one fucking cheap bottle of whiskey,” he said in irritation. “Nothing but the best for dear old dad, huh, Cass? Probably been drinking this shit from the second you were born.” He glanced over his shoulder at my father. “And by the way, it’s the other way around, he calls me Daddy,” he commented as he jerked his head in my direction. “What are you drinking?” he finally asked as he began shifting the bottles of alcohol around.
“My best buddy, Johnnie Walker,” my father announced, his words slurring heavily. He lifted his glass again, as if toasting someone. “That whiskey cost more than your house, sonny.”
As JJ pretended to examine the bottle, I began running the strange conversation back and forth in my head.
“It’s not whiskey, is it, big brother?” JJ asked.
“Scotch,” Sully said gruffly.
“Come here, babe,” JJ said as he held out the bottle. I kept my gun trained on my father although I had no intention of pulling the trigger. My father’s eyes held a certain desperation to them while his arms continued to bob around as if disconnected from his body.
When I reached JJ’s side, he pretended to show me the bottle before saying, “Guy’s probably got a million bucks’ worth of shit to get his drink on.” JJ began moving bottles on each shelf. He rattled the names off some of the bottles in disgust. “A million bucks right here when he could grab himself a great fucking glass of scotch like Pops did for five bucks at O’Shauney’s.”
“Never said the fucker knew how to spend all that cash, just said he did,” I responded as I watched JJ return the bottle to a different spot than it had originally been in. He made a show of moving the bottles around like he was trying to make the one in his hand fit. That was when I saw it.
A camera.
A very small, very well-hidden camera.
The sight of it had everything coming together in my head. Certain words began to stand out.
SaDa.
Buddy.
Big brother.
O’Shauney’s.
“Gimme a refill,” my father said as he waved his glass around.
“I’m done with this shit,” I sniped as I put my gun away. “Let the fucking cops have him,” I added as I began to walk past his desk.
“Now listen here!” my father yelled as he jumped drunkenly to his feet. He jabbed his finger on his desk. “You will respect me!”
“Go fuck yourself,” I responded even as I dropped my eyes to the desk where my father’s finger was. Scrawled on a small scrap of paper sticking out from a stack of documents was a set of words that had chills running down my spine.
She has Charlie. Across street. Shooter.
CHAPTER 30
Jj
As Chandler Ashby got in Cass’s face and pointed with his free hand to something on the desk, I knew it was bad. Cass wasn’t the best actor in the world, so it wasn’t hard to miss his reaction to whatever was written on the desk.
He managed to mask it as he snapped, “Get him out of my sight!”
Cass began to move toward me, his eyes flicking to the ground every second. I understood the silent warning, but just as he cleared the desk, leaving only half a dozen steps between us, I saw Chandler move to his right. Cass was in the process of subtly warning my brother about needing to hit the floor when Chandler suddenly yelled his son’s name and then stepped further to his right and launched himself at Cass.
My first thought was that Chandler was attacking Cass with some kind of hidden weapon, but then Cass screamed, “Down! Down! Down! Shooter!” My body was on autopilot as I threw myself to the floor, but my brain could only process that Cass’s warning shouts meant he was still alive. My heart was pounding in my chest as I remained on the floor and crawled to Cass, who had pushed his father’s body off him and was in the process of dragging Chandler behind the desk to use as cover.