Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
"Aven Armstrong," I agreed, reaching for the pile of file folders that Jules had dutifully gotten on my desk without my having to ask. She needed a raise on her already obnoxious salary.
"With the stalker?" Smith asked, brows drawn together.
"Last night he escalated to potential rapist, and likely murderer. He didn't get the chance, though, since Aven walked her ass down to The Henchmen compound when we wouldn't help, and got herself a gun."
"Finn over there now?" Smith asked as he flipped through the pages in his hands.
"Yeah. There was a lot of fucking blood," I explained. "And this perv liked to jack off onto her windows. There is possible DNA all over that place."
"He should get fucking hazard pay for that shit," Lincoln, known affectionately as The Middle Man, remarked, lip curled up in disgust. Lincoln was as tall as Smith and Kai, but somewhere between their body types. Where Kai was almost thin, Smith was a wall of muscle. Lincoln was fit and strong, but more compact. With a Jamaican father and English mother, he had medium skin tone, with a bald head, and brown eyes that had a strong copper undertone.
"Our main priority," I went on, ignoring the comment since we all knew Finn got paid exactly how much he wanted, "is to find out who this guy is. Finn has a picture. He will bring it in when he's done, and Jules will print off some copies. We just need to make sure he isn't connected in any way. Where are Gunner and Miller? On cases?" I had been gone too long to know exactly what was going down and when and where. While I controlled the operation as a whole, if the team had a case that they could handle alone, they did. I assembled a good team of people with very distinct skills. They didn't need me breathing down their necks and approving of every move they made.
As for Gunner, he was known around the office as The Ghost. Miller was The Negotiator. And our final member of the team, Ranger - AKA The Babysitter - while he had an office in the building, maybe only saw it once or twice a year. He was off in his woods, doing his thing until we needed him.
"Yeah, Miller has to work out some shit with the Russians and the Mexicans over in the city. Gunner is, well, off the grid."
"Alright, so for now, it's us. Smith, Lincoln, I need you on this until we have answers."
"And me, boss?" Kai asked, clearly between jobs for too long if he was looking for work. Kai was who we called The Messenger. Which was pretty self-explanatory. He had all the charm of a Golden Retriever, but he had one of the most dangerous jobs out of all of us. Not many men would sign up to walk into an unknown situation to deliver news that would likely lead to guns in their faces, but Kai did. Kai thrived on that shit.
"You, I want you around here, digging up information on the client."
I didn't usually give a shit about digging in people's dirt. That was part of the package when you came to me. I aired out all your dirty laundry. I unearthed all your skeletons. I made sure that you in no way threatened me and mine. Like it or fucking lump it, that was part of the package.
And when it came to being invasive, my team dug deep enough to know who took your virginity and when was your last one-night-stand. Nothing was left to chance.
But somehow, just this one time, I didn't like the idea. I didn't like having to dig around in the life of someone who had already had someone know too much about her.
And he did know way too fucking much.
Because the pictures that seemed to be the night before he finally tried to attack her had been from inside her bedroom while she was sleeping, her slinky white nightgown twisted around her upper thighs. She was on her stomach, one leg cocked up Captain Morgan style, letting the material slip up over her ass cheek. You could make out the lacy line of her light blue panties. Then the next picture, her skirt was lifted completely. It didn't take a genius to figure he had done that himself, revealing her ass just barely contained by her panties. The next picture seemed to be much later that night, almost morning judging by the light. Aven was on her back, and the buttons that had likely been fastened before she went to bed were undone, allowing the sides to fall open, and one of her breasts to be on perfect display, the dusty pink nipple slightly hardened by the cool fall air from the cracked open window.