Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
There was a long silence while the members of Torpedo Ink waited for their president to make up his mind. Czar picked up the glossy photograph of the woman again and studied it carefully. “You say this woman always makes the right investments, Code?”
“Every damn time, Czar.”
“One hundred percent of the time?”
“Just the way Master does.”
Master gave Code a sharp look. He didn’t want any attention brought to him, not when Czar was going all weird on them and turning those eyes of his into some kind of instrument of judgment. They all knew once he started on a course of action, he kept on that path until it was complete.
Czar tapped the photograph, a distinct rhythm to his fingers hitting the tabletop. “No one gets it right one hundred percent of the time unless they have a very strong gift.”
Alena cleared her throat to get their president’s attention. He looked at her over the photograph. “Can you really decide just looking at a picture, Czar?”
“She belongs with us,” Czar said decisively. “Whether or not we can get to her in time, or bring her in, that’s another thing altogether. We’ve made the offer to so many, but they couldn’t see what we were giving them.”
“We’re going to have to move on this fast,” Code said. “I tapped into her parents’ surveillance cameras. Thompson just showed up at their home with his private crew. They went in like they owned the place. It isn’t looking good.” He was clearly watching the feed. He sat up straighter. “He has his own security, but I think he’s brought four Ghosts with him. He brought private assassins.”
“There isn’t anything we can do from here, Code,” Czar said. “Don’t beat yourself up watching. Thompson’s a sick fucker. You know that. He isn’t there to play nice.”
He continued to tap the photograph, looking around the table. His eyes gleamed more silver than ever. “If we’re going to have any chance of saving her, one of you has to have your name on those documents. I can’t tell you how I know that, only that I do know it.” His gaze settled on Master.
Master’s head jerked up, his dark eyes going a deep ominous black. “Not a chance. For once, Czar, your voodoo magic is totally off. You know me.” He hissed the denial. “I’m no one’s husband. I don’t do needy women. I’m not any woman’s picnic. And a woman like that . . .” He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t even know how to be gentle.”
Before Czar could reply, the others burst out laughing.
It was Keys who threw a wadded-up piece of paper at him. “Don’t be a bonehead. You actually have to stand in front of a preacher and say your vows to be a husband. No one’s puttin’ a gun to your head.”
Rather absently, Master picked the missile out of the air with one hand, not even looking at it. “I suppose. Then it doesn’t matter if your name is on the license, Keys.”
“I don’t care.” Keys shrugged. “As long as that prick Thompson doesn’t get her, kill her and inherit her money.”
Master shrugged, a smooth roll of his broad shoulders. He glanced down at the photograph of the woman again. One finger slid over her delicate cheekbones. She was beautiful, but so fuckin’ fragile looking she appeared as if he could break her in half with one careless snap of his wrist. He had a tremendous amount of hidden strength. It wasn’t just that he was tall and broad-shouldered with a heavily muscled chest, it was the muscles that ran beneath his frame. Dense. Compact. He didn’t need to work out in a gym, although to get rid of pent-up energy he used the heavy bags and speed bags, kicking and hitting precise targets.
Master was a man of few words. He worked hard. He played in the band. He had a good voice, but he kept that to himself. He wasn’t about to draw attention to himself. He didn’t need groupies. He didn’t want idiot boyfriends to take exception to their old ladies throwing themselves at the band members. If someone took a swing at him, unlike some of the others who made a fight out of it, he tended to put a stop to things in a permanent way immediately.
Czar didn’t give him enforcer or bouncer work. He wasn’t ever given door duty at the bar, nor was he ever a bouncer. The other members of Torpedo Ink respected his boundaries and kept them. His finger traced the full lips of the little fairy princess as Keys told Code to put his name on the marriage license. Something dark and ugly moved inside him. He flicked a glance at Czar’s set features. Then to Keys.
“Leave it, Code.” His voice came out a low growl. “Czar wants my name on the paperwork, put it there. I follow him. I always have. He thinks it needs to be there, then it does.”