Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes a few more times, and I finally pull myself away from my bedroom and stalk down to my office. When I open the door, a flash of jet black has me jumping back.
“Scarab.” I groan and shake my head at him.
He meows and rubs against my leg.
“How long have you been in here?” I lean down and rub his whiskered cheeks. “Did Mrs. Verne close the door on you again?”
He doesn’t answer, but I get the feeling he was probably snoozing between the curtain and the window and got locked in by accident.
“She would’ve remembered you eventually, but try to be more thoughtful on where you take your naps, all right? She’s getting older. It’s not easy for her to search high and low for you.”
He headbutts my hand as I rise. Then he turns, tail twitching, and trots off toward the stairs.
“Hey, there’s someone in my room. Don’t bother–” But he’s disappeared before I can even finish my admonition.
I sink into my office chair and pull my phone from my pocket. Missed call after missed call show up on my screen. I need to get my story straight concerning what happened. I can’t make any mention of Milly, though it won’t take long for someone to connect the dead kidnappers to the art thief, especially when the busted vase is right in the middle of it all.
Rolling my shoulders to try and release the tension, I reach for the phone and dial my client’s number. It goes through a series of encrypted channels before ringing through.
“Mr. Klein,” the man answers, his nasal voice full of obvious displeasure. “You destroyed my vase.”
Technically, it never belonged to him, but now isn’t the time to parse his words. “There was an unforeseen complication.”
“One that left two men dead. Yes, I’ve heard.”
“The contract is canceled. I’ll return your deposit via wire.” I open my laptop.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to be good enough, Mr. Klein.” He tsks.
I lean back and try to control my irritation. I’m fucking tired, have a lot of damage to repair, and more than anything else–there’s a woman in my bed who wants me next to her. I should be thinking about making this client happy or doing damage control or–I don’t know–even the assholes I killed. But I’m not wasting any brainpower on those things. Everything in me is pointed like an arrow right at Milly. The sooner I can crawl into bed next to her, the better.
“That vase was to be the pinnacle of my collection. You promised me it would be an easy job, one you could accomplish with relative haste and discretion.”
“As I said, there was an unforeseen–”
“Complication,” he cuts in. “Yes, I heard you. However, this mishap on your part has done a great deal of damage to me personally. As such, I expect full repayment.”
“I already told you I’d wire the deposit to you.”
“No. That simply won’t do.”
I knew this was going to be sticky. This customer is well-known for his demanding ways. But he’s trying my fucking patience with this bullshit.
“Tell me what you need to smooth this over.” I try to keep the edge out of my voice but fail.
“Nothing will ever replace the item you destroyed. However, there is a similar piece in a private collection that will serve as a suitable stand-in. I’ll send you the details on the piece, the address, and the name of the collector. Once you have the item in-hand, I’ll cancel my contract with the Brotherhood on you.”
I sit up, my grip on the phone tightening. “You put out papers on me with the Brotherhood?”
“Mr. Klein, I’m a serious businessman. I can’t be seen allowing an abject failure such as yours to go unpunished.”
Visions of murdering the ever-loving fuck out of the man on the other end of the phone dance in my head. But I don’t even know who he is. He spends top coin to cover his tracks, and I never had any need to discover his true identity. Until now.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement. Happy hunting.” The line goes silent, and I slam my phone down.
“Problem?” Mrs. Verne walks in, her gait slightly unsteady. She’s been in the liquor cabinet again.
“Pour me one while you’re at it.” I point to the small bar table near the fireplace. “He wants me to steal something else or he’ll have my fucking hide, thanks to a Brotherhood contract.”
She whistles low. “I told you this guy was bad news.” She pours two hefty glasses of whiskey.
“No, you told me to get his vase, get the money, then fill up a tub and roll around in all the bills.”
She snorts and hands me a glass. “I must’ve been drunk.”
I raise my glass in salute, and we both drink.
“What’s with the girl?” She tries to play it cool and fails miserably.