Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Have you forgotten what happened last time I was in L.A.?” I ground my molars to a point of dust. He didn’t know the entire story, but he knew enough to guess the place wasn’t on my to-visit list.
“A lot of shit went down.” Tom cleared his throat. “But it’s been years. You cannot avoid the city forever.”
Of course I could. Los Angeles had nothing to offer me but pollution, bad Hollywood movies, and overpriced gourmet food.
“You do it.” I stabbed a finger in Tom’s chest.
“I would. In a heartbeat. But I’m starting an assignment with Mayor Ferns next week.”
He got a local post with the mayor of Chicago.
“Unless you want to play a game of switcheroo? I’ll go to L.A. Pack Lisa and the kids and go live in a McMansion.”
I gave it a brief thought. Mayor Ferns had enough enemies to sell out Wrigley Field, but that wasn’t what concerned me.
The fact that I’d screwed both of her daughters—simultaneously—not even two months ago did. In my defense—not that I needed one—I’d had no knowledge of their pedigree when one was sucking my balls while the other bent over a bar for me, letting me shove my fingers inside her.
We parted ways amicably, but I knew better than to play with Lady Luck. Putting myself in a situation with both of them again wasn’t asking for trouble—it was begging for it.
At least there was no danger of my getting frisky with the Thorne girl.
I did not fuck the ward. That was the rule.
Besides, she was not my type.
Besides, she was…what? Seventeen?
Besides, Tom was right. I was giving Los Angeles power over me that it didn’t deserve. It was just a city. An ugly, filthy, expensive one, but a city, nonetheless.
I didn’t want to work for an airheaded bimbo, didn’t want to move to Los Angeles, and didn’t want to talk to people unless I absolutely had to.
But I’d never met a challenge I didn’t annihilate, and this kid wasn’t about to set a precedent.
Tom blinked at me expectedly, waiting for an answer.
“What are we dealing with here?” I leaned a shoulder against the wall.
He sagged in relief, letting go of my sleeve.
“It’s a low-risk job. She’s very active on social media. Informs people of her whereabouts often. But at the end of the day, she’s just somebody’s daughter, you know. Not that high profile, separate from her father. The main concerns Thorne has for her in terms of safety are assault and robbery. She seems like an especially easy target after looking so drunk and out of it, getting groped by the meathead from that reality show.”
I drew a breath, digging my fingers into my eye sockets. This kid better not tie me to a bed with leather belts.
“I want a direct line to Thorne if I do this.”
“He’s already agreed to that,” Tom surprised me by saying.
Well, shit.
Anthony Thorne really wasn’t pleased with his airheaded teenybopper.
“And a meeting about launching our cyber unit, with this McAfee guy after the post is over. He’ll have to make some commitments.”
“Way ahead of you, Ran. I already told him.” Tom nodded enthusiastically.
“This is my last field assignment,” I hissed.
“Pinky promise.” Tom offered me his pinky. I snatched and bent it, to the point of almost breaking it as I pulled him close to me. His chest bumped mine.
“Last. Fucking. Time.” I watched him squirm in pain.
“Aw.”
I let go of his finger. Brushing my shoulder against his, I stalked out of my office.
“Where are you going?” he yelled after me.
“To stab myself in the neck.”
I did not stab myself in the neck.
A travesty, I realized twenty-four hours after my conversation with Tom, as I made my way through an overcrowded, filthy LAX.
The last time I’d been here, some years ago as a counterintelligence agent, a lot of blood had been shed. I’m talking Squid Game level shit. It was one of the reasons I left. It became clear to me I was at risk of losing the very little humanity I had left in me if I didn’t quit.
I didn’t give much of a damn about being humane. The main incentive was not to snap into a machete-yielding killer who’d end up going on a rampage.
Prison life seemed uninspiring, and I heard the food there left a lot to be desired.
It also helped that as a CI agent, the money wasn’t half that of going private. A no-brainer.
Speaking of no brains, I had to get to that Hallie person’s house before she decided to document her trip to the gynecologist on TikTok. Since I’d been advised by McAfee that the brat had no less than four cars in her Hollywood Hills’ mansion’s six-car garage, and a driver, I cabbed it.
Glaring out the window with my duffel bag perched in my lap, I again marveled at how stunningly ugly Los Angeles was. Rundown buildings, grungy bodegas, littered streets, graffiti-filled bridges, and more shopping carts on the street than inside Costco.