Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Feeling better about the decision, he made a mental note to chat with Sean when he returned and to schedule a meeting with Isabella. That just left him with the heavy task of filling out the rest of the kitchen staff for In Good Time and the holes that would be left in the Rialto kitchen should some of the staff choose to move over. James would handle the hiring of the hosts, servers, and bussers.
Being back at Rialto, Ian felt like he could breathe again. He was a step away from the chaos that seemed to be consuming his life. Rialto was a safe haven, a cozy slice of normalcy that gave him a sense of control and purpose when everything was trying to careen into insanity.
He started toward the main dining area when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and frowned. Gidget. She had news. A knot suddenly tightened in his stomach. He should be excited that she had information that would help him stop this person who was trying to destroy his life and hurt the people he cared about. But there was a part of him that wanted to push it all to the back of his mind for a little while, to enjoy normal life again for just one day.
It was better to face this now. He knew that. The sooner it was taken care of, the sooner he could get all of his life on track. He returned to his office to get away from the noise of the busy kitchen.
“Ian here,” he said as he shut the door.
“It’s Gidget. How are you? Anything new happen?”
A smile tugged at his lips at her sweet concern. He’d always found it somewhat amazing that she was so at ease around all the rough and rowdy Ward Security bodyguards. Hell, it was amazing she managed to work with Rowe for so long, but he’d seen it with his own eyes—she was a perfect fit. “No, it’s been quiet for the past few days.”
“I heard through the grapevine that Wade is enjoying Jackson playing nursemaid,” she said with a little giggle. “Is Sean okay?”
“Yes. He was in the hospital only the one night. He’s still a little grumpy about being forced to recuperate at home and has been sending me recipe ideas every day. He’ll be back at Rialto on Monday.”
“That’s good. I cross-referenced the few names you gave me with police records on drug and prostitution arrests and I think I have a name for you. Max Hodgkins.”
Ian flinched to hear that name cross Gidget’s lips. Yes, he’d given it to her along with others, but to hear his suspicions confirmed still hurt. There had been a secret part of him hoping that Max had escaped this life, that he and Hollis had been wrong and they all escaped, but it was unrealistic.
“I remember him well,” Ian whispered thickly.
“Looks like he was picked up once in the West End, and the second time was downtown, just east of OTR.”
“If it’s him, I wonder why he’s taken so long to come after me.”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting on records from two others right now, but it’s a start.”
“Thanks, Gidget, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m emailing you his police records now. They have the exact locations of where he was arrested. It’ll give you and Hollis a starting point at least. I’m sorry it’s not more definitive.”
“No, it’s a solid start.”
He hung up and stood in his quiet office; the sounds from the kitchen were muffled but he barely noticed. His mind had slipped back to a lavish mansion more than ten years in his past. It had been a place of nightmares. The opulence was over the top and had felt so damn phony, but it was made all the worse by the guys walking around the place with their rough hands, crude manners, and guns. So many fucking guns. For so long, Ian had been afraid to move, to speak, confident that someone was going to shoot him at the first squeak out of him.
Max had already been there when he arrived. Had been trapped in that hell for a couple of years. He had looked a lot like Ian—Jagger’d had a type—but he’d been smaller and younger. He’d also been Jagger’s favorite. At the top of his list as it were. That position came with certain “benefits” and freedoms that the other prisoners didn’t enjoy. No one ever touched Jagger’s favorite but Jagger. Ian hadn’t understood that when he first arrived. Everything had been so new and scary. He’d just wanted to go home. It didn’t matter if his parents hated him and had coldly ripped him away from everything he’d known. Hatred at home had to be better than being trapped at Jagger’s.