Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
He hurried out of the room to collect his phone from the den. It had twenty percent battery left. He hustled back up the stairs and was tempted to call the police, but then he remembered the NDA. This woman’s body was on the floor and if she woke up and remembered what’d happened, everything he’d worked for would be thrown in a bin.
He wracked his brain, searching for a solution. It didn’t hit him what to do until he thought about a conversation he’d had with Winton Hart. This was a year before Winton died. He’d called Dominic, demanded that he come to Houston so they could discuss his proposal to Jolene. He remembered being nervous as hell to be with her father one-on-one. He’d never sat with Winton alone. He had Jolene as a cushion, and she often covered for Dominic whenever Winton began interrogating him. But not this time. No, Winton wanted to speak to him alone.
He met him at an upscale soul-food restaurant and when he’d approached the table, Winton had ordered without him. A plate full of fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, and a buttery roll of bread was in front of him, and Dominic couldn’t help thinking that was how the man would die—all that fatty food going down the hatch, clogging his arteries, increasing his cholesterol. He’d kept the comments to himself, of course, and took the seat across from Winton, requesting a water from the waitress who wasn’t too far away.
Winton looked Dominic from head to toe, then said, “I’m going to make this very clear to you, Dominic. I see you. I see you more than you see yourself.”
Dominic’s throat thickened. “I’m sorry. How do you mean, sir?” he asked, trying not to shrink under Winton’s glare.
“I looked into your history after Joey told me about your past. You told her your mother was in a psychiatric detention. You said she was unwell and so mentally ill that it wasn’t safe to visit her. Far from the truth, isn’t it?”
Dominic swallowed but held Winton’s gaze.
“Don’t answer that,” Winton muttered, waving his fork. “I know she’s not in one. She’s dead and the state handed her house over to you.”
Dominic blinked, stunned by his future father-in-law’s knowledge. A smile spread across Winton’s lips, and he pointed his greasy fork at Dominic as he said, “You aren’t the only person who does their research. You think I don’t know that you’re marrying my Joey for the money? I could smell it all over you when I met you.”
Dominic chose to feign ignorance. “I love her, Mr. Hart. I’m not understanding where this is coming from.”
“Please be aware, Dominic, that if you ever think about hurting Jolene in any way, your life will be ruined. Whether it’s by me, or someone who knows me.” Winton’s dark-brown eyes grew even darker as a frown creased his forehead. “She loves you and I don’t know why. But what I do know is that if you mess up, it will be handled.” He turned his head a fraction, peering over Dominic’s shoulder. Dominic looked with him, and spotted Boaz sitting in a booth. His hands were folded on the table, eyes hard on Dominic’s as he nodded his head. “I have people who take care of business for me,” Winton continued, grabbing Dominic’s attention again. “And if there is ever a need for me to make someone disappear, it will happen. And I won’t be to blame.” Winton glared at Dominic—into him, really—like he could see everything he was made of, his rapidly beating heart, organs, and the thoughts in his head. Then, just as quickly as he’d glowered, he straightened in his seat and said, “Try the sweet potato pie. It’s good.”
Winton’s words haunted Dominic. “. . . if there is ever a need for me to make someone disappear, it will happen. And I won’t be to blame.”
Boaz had ways of making people disappear. Houston wasn’t too far from New Orleans, and he still had Boaz’s number saved in his phone when he’d found the guy who’d stolen his wallet. He lifted the phone and called.
A few hours later, Dominic stopped pacing when he heard a car door close. He rushed toward the window, peered out, and spotted Boaz in all his dark-skinned massiveness glaring up at the house. Behind him was a black Chevy pickup truck. It was broad daylight out and Dominic worked hard to swallow, glad the house was surrounded by trees.
There was a knock at the door, and he hurried to open it. Boaz entered the house, moving right past him. He noticed he was wearing cloth booties over his boots and his hands were gloved. The brim of his hat was low on his forehead.
“Where is it?” Boaz asked.