Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 126098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Mr. Hilliard opened his own briefcase and set out a bill of sale in front of Burton. “I think you’ll find,” the lawyer said, “that all our paperwork is in order.”
Burton hesitated, staring at Abby and the pinstriped man. The phone’s intercom light blinked and the tell-tale chime rang out. Abby pressed the button. “Ms. Raines,” came Susan’s voice over the speaker. “Your associates have arrived.”
“Thank you, Susan. Send them in, please.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The door swung open and Mark entered first, followed by Hawk, Shooter, and Abby saw that even Easy had come.
“Gentlemen,” Abby said. “These are my associates.”
None of them said anything, but they were clearly curious, looking back and forth between Kessler, Burton, and Hilliard. Abby slid the pen across the table to Burton. “I think we’re all pretty clear at this point on the particulars.” She reached behind her into the waistband of her tailored trousers and pulled out her .38, pointing it at Burton.
“Holy fuck!” shouted Kessler. Burton’s eyes widened, but he was too scared to speak. Mr. Hilliard said nothing. Neither did the four enormous ex-army rangers lined up against the wall.
“Sign the papers,” Abby demanded. “Take the check, and the cash incentive...and get the fuck out of my hotel.”
Kessler looked at Burton, who did nothing helpful, and then turned to Hilliard. “Do something!”
Abby smiled and shook her head. “He’s not going to help you. Mr. Hilliard was Slick Mick Dugan’s lawyer for more years than I’ve been alive. He’s Old Vegas.”
“Very Old Vegas,” Mr. Hilliard added, leaning back in his chair. “I suggest, Mr. Burton, that you accept the sum Ms. Raines is so generously offering you. You’re lucky to even get that. In the event the police discover your...sidebusiness...all your assets will be seized, accounts frozen indefinitely.”
Burton, finding no aid with Hilliard, looked at the men along the wall.
“They won’t help you, either,” Abby told him. “They’re here to carry your bodies out the back door if you don’t sign.”
Kessler stood up suddenly. “Susan! Susan!”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Susan’s not going to help you. I offered her a management job with a shit-ton of vacation time.”
“What the fuck?” Kessler shouted.
“Bitches,” Abby scoffed. “I know, right?” She pulled the hammer back on the .38.
Kessler looked at his boss. “You’ve gotta do something!”
Burton glared at him. “Like what? Go to prison? No, thanks.” Burton picked up the pen.
“At least give me half!” Kessler cried. “I arranged everything. I set up the front!”
“And did a great job, too,” Burton said sarcastically. “Since apparently any fucking bitch with a college degree could figure it out.” The pen scratched loudly as he initialed the highlighted lines and then signed his name on the last page.
Burton stood up, picked up the briefcase, and stormed out the door with Kessler on his heels, begging for a cut.
The chime on the phone rang out again. Abby lowered the gun and hit the button. “Ms. Raines,” said Susan. “The Asshole and The Complete and Total Bastard are heading outside. “Everyone’s assembled in the ball room.”
“Fabulous,” Abby replied and disconnected.
She tucked the gun into the back of her waistband again, hiding it under her blazer.
“Thank you, Mr. Hilliard, for coming all his way.”
The old man grinned at her and stood up. “It was worth it. Felt like old times.” He shook her hand and headed out the door.
Abby picked up the sale paperwork and followed Hilliard out of the meeting room door. “Almost done,” she told the men. The rangers followed her.
Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked to the reservation counter. Susan looked up at her and picked up the large box on the counter.
“Here, I’ll take that,” Hawk said, grinning at her.
Susan blushed and handed it over.
Abby turned to the men. “Just one more meeting and then we’re done,” she told them.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Shooter, grinning.
Abby headed straight up the large staircase and entered the double doors, leading to the large ballroom where everyone who was currently employed at the Custer Hotel was assembled, sitting at the tables.
Abby breezed into the middle of the room and stopped. She held up the signed paperwork. “As of now, I own the Custer Hotel,” she told the audience. There were some murmurs through the crowd. “It’s been a long and eventful morning, and I really don’t have time for bullshit,” she announced. “You all know what’s been going on here. It stops today. I’m sure some of you have become accustomed to management looking the other way while you get paid for essentially doing nothing. That also stops now. If you don’t like it, get the fuck out.”
She nodded to Susan who directed Hawk to set the box down. Susan took off the lid and grabbed stack after stack of spiral bound business plans and set a stack down on each table as Abby continued.