Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
This had to have been Bannon’s handiwork. He’s done everything possible to try and get me stomped out.
I paused the video and increased the size. The facial features, just like the photos I’d printed, were non-discernable, but I knew a woman’s body…
The curves. Dips. The shape of the legs and ass. Even the way she walked and moved her hands were dead giveaways. Women are like air. They flow. Each step they take is deliberate, yet they make it look carefree. Breezy. It’s in their DNA. After several minutes, my jaw began to burn. I had been clenching my teeth the whole time, not even realizing it until a dull pain radiated throughout my mouth and skull. I fisted my hands while my stomach tensed and tightened like a wound-up ball of yarn, squeezing my intestines into a million knots. The anger inside me was bubbling and boiling over to the point that I grabbed the glass globe on my desk and tossed it hard across the room. It toppled my sitting area lantern and crashed into the black wall behind it, leaving broken paint and plaster in its wake.
Was that a sign? Was my world really over? Thrown away never to be the same again?
Whatever information this lady had captured on her camera could signal the end of me.
I sat there. Sober. Heated. Her ambiguous image was imprinted in my memory. The fuzzy dark shadows, blurry outline, and glints of light. I snatched the photos and slipped them into the shredder beside my desk. I then grabbed a thumb drive, copied the video file to it, encrypted it, and destroyed the original. Spinning slowly back and forth in my dark red leather chair, I mulled things over. I slowed down, then paused. It doesn’t matter the who, where, or how right now. This must be handled IMMEDIATELY. I was finished wasting time. I understood what needed to be done before things got even worse. Picking up my phone, I rang Billy.
“What’s up, Archer?”
“Halt all operations today.”
“What? But we have two trucks full of cigarettes and Hennessy going out to Alaska and—”
“Don’t make me fucking repeat myself. I said halt it! Stand down until further notice.” I ended the call.
Standing from the chair, I smashed my barely smoked cigar next to the other one in the ashtray and marched over to my closet. Unlocking the dead bolts, I removed my Glock G-19 and my Springfield Armory Hellcat, checking to ensure that each was fully loaded.
Grabbing my black leather jacket from the coatrack next to the door, I slipped it on, the keys to my Lamborghini Huracan Performante in hand. Time to rock and roll.
…One thing is for certain: I’m not going back to prison. What I am going to do is find this woman, and when I do, she won’t be speaking, sneaking, or crawling around ever again.
CHAPTER ONE
“Honey, hand it over.” Teresa waved her hand about as the sunlight filtered in through her office window. Honey hated Teresa’s office. It was one of the largest ones in the entire building—a corner one, as if she deserved such a space. The area was pretentious with wall to ceiling windows and reeking of her notorious perfume that smelled more like Axe body spray. The furniture was white with silver accents, and she’d placed clear, glass decorations in various shapes and sizes everywhere. No rhyme or reason. It was underwhelming. Safe. Sterile. Boring. Just like her.
The mouse-faced lady stood in her three-piece dark gray suit that was too baggy around the breasts and thigh area, her short platinum blond hair brushed back from her angular face, showcasing beady blue eyes that only attempted to pierce her soul.
“Honey, did you hear me? Give them to me.” She wiggled her fingers in her direction, palm up. Waiting for the prize.
“I’m not handing over my office keys to you because I’ve done nothing wrong.” Honey placed her hand on her hip and cocked her head. There was no way this would end well but at this point, she didn’t give a shit. They stared each other down and then, the silence was broken by a loud, frustrated sigh.
“Fine,” Teresa barked before grabbing the phone receiver off the hook. “I need Security…yes, I’m on the ninth floor. Hurry please… No, I’m not in immediate danger… Yes, Teresa Hadlock’s office.” She slammed the phone down as if somehow security was a problem now, too.
Their gazes locked once again, and Teresa’s complexion deepened before the woman turned and looked away.
“You’re wasting my time, Teresa. When will this silly show of yours be over?”
“The only time being wasted is mine. I’m now late for my one o’clock meeting.”
“When can I get back to work?”
“You will not be working, Honey. You think this is a game. Some bluff. It’s not. Your probation period will last three months.” The lady’s lips crimped as she crossed her arms.