Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I don’t intend to take it for granted or waste it either.
My phone rings and I pull it from my pocket. I don’t recognize the number so I send it to voicemail. It’s almost certainly related to work and I’m officially off the clock. Ordinarily, I’d answer, but with Kat due here any moment, I’m putting work behind her.
I barely have it slipped back in my pocket when it rings again.
Same number.
I’m irritated at the intrusion and the audacity of someone to call back, especially when they’re not even known to me as they’re not in my contacts. I again push the call off to voicemail but within moments, it’s ringing again from the same number.
A prickle of unease coats my skin in goose bumps that turns into dread. What if it’s a hospital calling that something has happened to one of my parents? Or God forbid, Kat.
That thought has me stabbing at the button to connect the call. “Gabe Mardraggon,” I answer brusquely, hoping beyond hope this is a work call.
“I want my 1921 Shadow Reserve, Mr. Mardraggon.”
It’s a male voice, deep and mature. I don’t recognize it and yet I know exactly who it is. “Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Mr. Rafferty. As I told your goons, it’s not mine to give and even if it were, I’m not going to help my father.”
“Yes,” he says with a resigned sigh. “We realize there’s no leverage in your father. But perhaps you would help another loved one?”
I frown at that cryptic statement and the incoming chime of a text has me pulling the phone away from my ear with morbid curiosity. It’s a text from the same number and with dread, I enlarge the tiny thumbnail of a photo the caller sent.
When it is full screen, my breath evaporates in my lungs, leaving me speechless and struck by insidious fear.
It’s Kat, sitting in a chair with a black cloth tied around her eyes. Behind her stands a man wearing a black ski mask and he has a gun pointed at her head. I can’t tell if he’s one of the original men who paid me a visit, but it doesn’t matter.
Kat’s in trouble.
My voice quaking with fury, I bring the phone back to my ear and snarl, “You fucking son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you for this.”
“No, you won’t,” Rafferty says brusquely. “In fact, I expect you’ll do exactly as I say. You’re going to get the case of bourbon and I’m going to text you an address to bring it to. You give me the bourbon, I give you the girl. It’s a win-win situation.”
“And if I choose to just call the police?” I ask with contempt. “I’ve done my research on you and you’re a fairly upstanding member of Louisville society. Surely you don’t want this becoming public.”
Rafferty laughs, clearly amused. “Do that, and you won’t see your precious Kat Blackburn again. And good luck proving I had anything to do with this, but in the end, it won’t matter. You won’t have the girl and I’m willing to roll the dice that you’re not going to risk a hair on her pretty head.”
He’s not wrong about that. The bourbon doesn’t mean shit to me. Twenty seconds ago, it was part of my family’s legacy, but right now it’s just brown liquid in dusty bottles. “I want to talk to Kat right now.”
“Sadly, I have to decline, Mr. Mardraggon.” He sounds so smug and I want to knock his teeth down his throat. “But you have my word she is safe and unharmed. Bring me the case of bourbon, don’t involve the police, and you’ll have your girl back in your arms before you know it.”
“She’ll be there when I bring the bourbon?” I ask to clarify the terms.
“Yes. We’ll switch out, easy as pie. You walk one way, I’ll walk the other, then we forget this happened. I don’t think I have to impress upon you how driven I can be when I set my mind on something, so if you think to involve the police or try to fuck this up in any way, I will ensure the people you love suffer. And just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about your parents but rather a cute little girl who looks an awful lot like your girlfriend.”
Not my girlfriend and at this moment, I regret ever reconnecting with Kat. Had I kept my hands to myself, kept far away from her, this douchebag wouldn’t know she means anything to me. He’s clearly connected and has done his research—my best guess is I’ve been followed from the moment they first approached me and they’ve had plenty of opportunity the last two weeks to see the time Kat and I have spent together. Hell, Kravitz probably saw me kiss her at the gala.