Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know!”
Our eyes lock in the mirror prior to inquiring, “Are you Sebastian Messina?”
“Yeah!” His chin brushes against the rope while nodding. “Yeah! That’s me!”
“You left your cigarette butt at the scene which makes you too sloppy to be an actual button man or too stupid to stay in that position for much longer.”
“What the fuck is a button man!?”
His lack of knowledge regarding a basic term has me lifting a displeased eyebrow. “You fuckin’ with me?”
“No!”
“You sound like you’re fuckin’ with me.”
“No!”
“Mmm, it feels like you’re fuckin’ with me.”
“No! No! I’m not-” The sound of my engine roars for a second time during the process of my tailgate creeping closer. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! I don’t know what a button man is! I swear to God! Pleasedontkillme!”
Seeing his body uncontrollably shaking has me putting my foot back on the brake. “Don’t swear to God. Swear to me.”
“I swear to you – whoever you are – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That’s good.
Him not being a low level hired gun for a mob family means I’m most likely not about to have to single handedly take down an entire crime organization.
And thank fuck for that.
Unlike parasailing with Arley in Boracay, that shit’s not on my bucket list.
“Who sent you to kill Arlette Carmichael last night?”
“I don’t know.”
My foot immediately lets up so that the vehicle can inch closer. “What did I say about lyin’ to me, Messina?”
“I’m not lying!”
“What do you think, Reynolds? Is he lyin’?”
“Feels like he’s lying, Wahl.”
“Thought so.”
Tapping the accelerator not only escalates the distance closing but the rate at which words fall from his lips. “I wasn’t sent to kill her!”
His statement has me momentarily stopping my truck.
“I-I-I-I was just supposed to rough her up!” His Adam’s apple bobs uncontrollably. “Scare her! Tell her to stop digging!”
“Stop diggin’?” My glare narrows at his reflection in the mirror. “Stop diggin’ for what?”
“I don’t know.” Pressure relieves itself from the brake yet again causing him to shriek at the top of his lungs. “Ireallydontknow!”
“He’s uh…” Reynolds gives the side of his face an uncomfortable scratch. “He’s pissing himself, Wahl.” The fellow Haworth agent leans over to meet my gaze. “I don’t think he’s lying this time.”
After putting my foot back on the brake, I ask, “Who sent you?”
“I swear to G-” his voice cuts off and quickly corrects, “to you that I don’t know who sent me. It was a double-blind blackboard assignment.”
“Meanin’ you don’t know who posted it, and they don’t know who took it.”
“Right!” He frantically nods between sniffles. “That’s exactly fucking right!”
Except I don’t wanna be fucking right, because this means whoever wanted my woman scared isn’t some random asshole, she managed to piss off by simply being the smartest person in the room at the wrong time.
It means they’ve got connections and deep pockets.
And unknown enemies with connections and deep pockets are one of my least fucking favorite combinations.
“Was recon required for this mission?”
Confusion doesn’t hesitate to cake itself onto his sweaty face.
“Surveillance.” A heavy sigh of annoyance is released before further clarification. “Were you required to follow around your target prior to last night or did they provide you with all the information you needed for the attack?”
“They gave me that shit! Whoever the person or persons were! They – They – They uh…” he unintentionally cuts off his own oxygen during his frantic movements, “they had everything arranged. I took the gig yesterday morning, got a keycode for a storage unit by lunch, and was told to attack at night. In the unit was everything I needed. Photo of her. Her car. Her license plate. The code for the back entrance of the building. A parking lot layout. Where she parked. When the guards made their rounds and shift changes. And then when she normally left work.”
His flood of information churns my stomach so much that I have to chomp down on my inner cheek to keep down the bile.
That’s the type of intel you only know as an inside man.
Or only know when you have an inside man.
“The only thing the shit didn’t account for was her working late. The info I was given implied she’d be leaving earlier, and when she didn’t, I had to…stick around…and wait it out.”
“That’s when you smoked,” Reynolds causally clarifies during the crossing of his arms. “And inevitably left evidence behind like a moron.”
And that’s coming from a moron.
“I thought about bailing on the whole thing, but it was too much cash to pass up.”
“How much?” New bits of discomfort bounce around his brown eyed stare pushing me to repeat the question before lifting my foot off the brake. “How much!?”
“Twenty K in cash!”
Twenty grand.
Simply scaring the love of my life is worth fucking twenty large?
Fuck, I can’t fathom how much more someone would be willing to pay to have her…to have her…