Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Ivan isn’t one of the higher-ups with the Russians, but he’s a top financier. He’s not the type to get his hands dirty, though he has been behind quite a few solid dealings in Garden City. If there’s been a big deal happening, you can usually find his name hidden in the details. He’s the type of guy who likes to walk tall with the gangsters but keeps his name clean from the law. You won’t find the Russian mafia tattoos on him, no, that would be too much for him.
That would actually take balls.
We first heard Ivan’s name when we were interrogating the Yakuza after they kidnapped Lily. Again, there was nothing concrete. The leads we received didn’t really amount to anything… until I took care of Bart.
Bart gave up some names to me before he died—Ivan being the top one of them. We’ve been watching the fucker for a while now, and waiting…
The roads are empty tonight, and as we pull up to the compound, I look back over to the pretending sleeping beauty. She’s awake, trying to figure out what to do or what’s going to happen next. I can tell just by the way she breathes, and the way her hands twitch even though she is trying to remain perfectly still.
Putting my lips right next to her ear, my nose fills with the scent of her hair. It smells faintly of flowers and perspiration. She has been through some shit tonight.
“Do you remember what I told you before we got out of the car?” I ask in a low murmur only she can hear.
Her body locks up even further, but I see the smallest of nods from her head.
“Good, because I don’t want you to be stupid. Be a good girl. Be smart,” I say as I pull her tight to my body as we make a sharp turn.
Wrapping my arm around her, I hold her shoulders to my chest.
Her hands lace together as she tries to keep the shaking in her fingers from showing.
“Peter, park us right next to the car.”
“Got it.”
The wind is blowing pretty hard by the time I push her into the passenger seat of my BMW.
Leaning into the car, I brush her dark brown hair out of her face and look into her pale blue eyes. She’s been crying, it’s obvious from the mascara tracks running down her cheeks.
But she looks absolutely beautiful even when terrified.
Taking a corner of the silver duct tape that covers her mouth, I slowly peel it off. I can tell it’s painful by the way she squints her eyes but she doesn’t cry out from it or scream. There’s a red patch of angry skin when the tape finally comes off.
Gesturing to her hands, I say, “The zip-ties stay on until we come to an understanding.”
Grabbing the seatbelt, I bring it across her body and snap it into place. Pulling it tight, I say, “Don’t move.”
Shutting the door, I turn to Peter. “Have Harrold do something with the limo. No need to keep it around any longer.”
“Got it. Anything else, Andrew?” he asks as he starts to pull his phone from his pocket.
“Not yet. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Heading around my car, I feel my pocket vibrating before I even get to my door. Pulling it out, I see that it’s Simon calling.
“Simon, how’s it going?” I ask as I pull my door open and slide myself into the car.
“Lucifer told me about the complication,” he says, not even bothering to answer my question.
Starting up the car, I put it into drive before I answer. “Yeah, intel got screwed up. We ended up with his mistress.”
“Well, I have information about that little problem of yours.”
“What do you mean problem of mine?” I ask as I look over at her.
Her eyes widen as she stares at me.
“She has a daughter.”
“Fuck. Is it his?”
“No, I doubt it. She’s five years old, named Abigail.”
Looking over at the girl beside me, I force myself to call her a woman now. She doesn’t look like she’s had a kid, but then again what the fuck do I know about having kids?
“She’s going to be your problem now, Andrew. The dirty face and sticky hands kind of problem.”
I can hear him cringing through the phone.
Simon isn’t one for kids, dirt, messes, loud laughter or anything fun really. He’s also afraid of strip clubs. But being Lucifer’s right-hand man means he’s my boss.
That doesn’t keep me from growling into the phone a few choice words at him.
“Abusing me is not going to change the matter, Andrew. Do you think Lucifer didn’t see how you looked at the girl? He just called to make sure you were put in charge of the child. He thinks it will be good for your moral fiber.”