Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Tied up… does he mean, like—
“While I’m holed up in the apartment they can’t get to me.” His face crumples again. “But baby, now they’re threatening you.”
He walks to the attached dining room and comes back with a large envelope with several black and white photographs. All of me. All with a big red X marked over my face.
“I don’t care if I die,” my father whispers. “But I can’t bear to let anything happen to you.”
My gaze freezes on the pictures. Me in my workout gear—it could have been yesterday or any of the other Mondays, Wednesdays, or Sundays I go to my gym. But the second picture, I’m wearing a necklace that I rarely put on. I wore it yesterday in a sad attempt to jazz up my day and feel more feminine and pretty in my usual pantsuit and power blazer.
A cold shiver works its way down my spine. Someone was watching me? And taking creepy pictures?
Someone who wants my dad… dead?
“Who’s doing this?” I whisper.
Dad shakes his head. “These men want me dead because of what I know. I’m not telling you or anyone else.”
“What about protective custody if you did testify? Can’t the police—?”
But Dad’s already shaking his head. “You don’t understand the power these men wield.” He swallows. “My only chance is to disappear. Get south of the border and keep running.” His gaze goes distant. “You should be safe as long as I’m gone.”
I tug away from him and run my hands through my short hair. Holy crap. This is all real. My dad, he— I swallow hard against the tears.
And this whole time, he was protecting me, not shunning me from the business because I was a girl.
“Do you know someone who can help you? To disappear?” God, from all he’s said and the pictures, they’re probably watching the house right now. I look to the windows that he’s shuttered. He must have had the same thought.
He reaches a shaking hand up to rub his chin. “That’s why we need to get together whatever money we have. I’m sure we can find someone. For the right price—”
So that’s a no about him knowing anyone who could help. Not surprising since he burned all his bridges by defrauding almost everyone he was in business with.
I look up at him, suddenly knowing what I have to do.
I walk over to him and squeeze his trembling hand. Then I head back into the foyer and lean over to grab my purse. I dig through all the crap I shoved in it and pull out the crumpled contract at the bottom. Then I fish around for the card.
Yes, I kept them.
Desperate times and all that—though, God, I didn’t even know the half of it. My mouth goes dry as I withdraw my phone from the front pocket of my purse.
Now my hands are the ones shaking.
I look down at the card, thinking of how confident Mr. Owens would be that I’d call. Like there was no question that I’d be forced into this position.
Am I really willing to… sleep with him until you come to be with child… Mr. Owens words come back in perfect clarity and a shudder goes through my body.
I almost drop the phone back into my purse but then my eyes catch on the photos of me Dad’s still clutching in his hands. If what Dad’s saying is true, this is life or death.
I dial the number.
Mr. Owens picks up on the first ring. “Ms. Van Bauer. How delightful to speak to you again so soon.”
Three
“No! Stop, wait! You didn’t let me say goodbye!” I scream, fighting the grip of two men who drag me up the front stairs of a huge resort-type building in the middle of nowhere.
I look over my shoulder frantically at the small plane idling in a distant field and shout, “Dad!” even though I know it’s useless and he can’t hear me.
What the fuck have I gotten us into?
None of this is what I envisioned when the well-dressed Mr. Owens came over a half an hour after I got off the phone with him.
God, was that really only earlier today? As soon as I signed on the dotted line, Mr. Owens told us we had to leave immediately. That we couldn’t bring even a single belonging with us.
When I explained the deal to Dad, glossing over the details and saying that I would be going to work for Mr. Owens’s client in order to get him out of the country, Dad looked wary.
“What kind of job is it that they offered to help out your convict father, Mel? This doesn’t sound right.”
“So they color a little outside the lines. It’s nothing bad or dangerous.” I sat him down and spoke confidently. In truth, I had no idea what the hell the ‘client’ offering this deal was into, but if there was ever a time to sell a pitch, this was it. “You yourself said it. I’m one of the best up and coming ad agents in the business. Just think of this as very aggressive head-hunting. They want me for the job and they were willing to do what needed to be done to sweeten the pot.”