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)
“What are you thinkin’?” My fake boyfriend cautiously inquires from beside me. “Mole?”
“Worse.” Our eyes find one another’s. “Poacher.”
“What the fuck is a poacher?” Blu asks, light yellow lettering bouncing through the air. “What the fuck does hunting have to do with you being hunted?”
“Poachers in our industry are actually one of the main reasons the private sector thrives. They use their resources to get access to the information of individuals that could be of benefit to whoever it is they’re working for. Typically, they’re scanning financials and personnel records of people who fit into whatever category it is they’re in charge of scouting for. For instance, operatives wise, they’d look for someone who is in active service yet close enough to their renewal date to be persuaded to leave their shit government pay and make two or three times that while still being able to be home by dinner, or someone who is in active service yet close enough to retirement to be considering what life after the military has to offer them. Outside of the military they would look at those in government fields – CIA, FBI, NSA for example – that have remarkable skills that could be of high value. Of course, there are other places and types that get poached as well – scientists, doctors, lawyers, analysis – but to avoid pulling up the colorful line graph I made-”
“You made a line graph?” Blu interjects, words bouncing in bewilderment.
“-I’m trying to use broad strokes versus the actual details I think we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t even know how you fucking start making a line graph.”
“Blu,” Slater huffs, typically crystal shaded tone darkening in disapproval.
“Sorry,” he quickly brushes off, “continue.”
“Poachers aren’t a bad thing unless…” it’s hard to keep my voice steady during my explaining to both of them, “you’re poaching in the wrong territory.”
“Meanin’?”
“Meaning…it’s one thing if an operative is unhappy at a different company and looks for a change of venue all on his or her own, but it’s a whole other when you actively send someone in to poach directly from your competition. Clients are one thing. They’re fickle. They want the best price. They want the best service. They’ll go wherever they feel their money is better spent. Those are the woes of doing business. But taking active personnel from your competitors? That’s basically a declaration of war, especially when the company you are dealing with is Haworth.”
While I may not know all our enterprises most innerworkings – which is probably for the best – I do know enough to know that they didn’t get to be the most respected and most feared by being the bigger person or turning the other cheek.
This business is ruthless.
And they – whoever holds the top title – rule with a steel fist.
“And I wanna be as certain as I possibly can be that that’s what’s really happening before making an accusation of that caliber. Hence,” my head tips to the side for emphasis, “needing to go into the office to physically access some files for analyzing.”
“Your diggin’ most likely alerted their inside source in the company,” Slater points out at the same time he lifts his coffee to sip. “And their inside source alerted them yet rather than deal with the heat that comes from eliminatin’ a high value asset, they chose to try to frighten you into silence.”
“And fuck them for that,” I immediately grumble.
“I don’t know,” the man beside me casually begins, “I prefer you alive and a little shook up than buried in a box I’d have to visit before ultimately joinin’ you after doin’ whatever it takes to avenge your death.”
Awe can’t be kept out of my gaze or my tone. “You’d really avenge my death like that?”
“Angel Cake, I left a man tied up to choke on his own blood in a grocery store bathroom for simply tryin’ to get to you.” His face cranes a bit closer. Almost too close. “You don’t even wanna fathom the lengths I would go to if somethin’ were to actually happen to you again.”
Admiration and adoration and appreciation all send me to the tips of my toes.
Have my chest that’s starting to heave brushing steadily against his.
I let my eyes momentarily linger at his lips, and the instant they part, something deep inside whispers to take the opening.
The wordless offering.
The obvious opportunity to taste the one thing I’ve wanted for years.
“And since you’ve brought up the child you scarred for life…” Blu interjects, startling our bodies back to their respectful spaces.
“He wasn’t a child,” Slater grumps before having another sip of his coffee. “He was at least twenty-one.”
“Twenty-two to be exact,” his partner informs. “And unfortunately for us, a dead end. He was basically just some fuckboy who – up until he made the mistake of pissing you off – was in low level surveillance and extortion. Like follow my husband to see if he’s cheating type of shit and then when they’re inevitably caught in the act blackmailing them to pay him double so that he reports to their wives he found nothing.”