Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Thanks, Sammy. You’re a good friend.”
“Clearly not, or I wouldn’t have kicked you in the face.”
“It was an accident.” Gracen patted her friend on the back with her free hand. “I’ll be fine.”
“I still feel terrible. It’s my treat for daiquiris next week.”
“Deal,” Gracen told her.
Gracen had to drive home slowly since she could only see out of one eye. Luckily, it wasn’t far. She winced at the noise her car was making. That wasn’t normal. But she didn’t have time to worry about it.
Driving with one eye swollen shut wasn’t her brightest idea. She was trembling and sweaty when she slid into a spot in front of her apartment building. Getting out, she grabbed her handbag and the now-warm ice pack. Sammy tooted her horn and called out her driver’s window.
“Text me after Mr. Sticky Buns comes in tomorrow morning. I want to hear all about it.” She took off, driving too fast.
Gracen shook her head, then winced. The adrenaline rush had worn off and now she was really feeling the throbbing in her face.
She knew Sammy meant she wanted to hear what mortifying things Gracen said tomorrow. But it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to do or say anything to embarrass herself.
Hopefully.
That’s if she hadn’t scared him off for good.
Victor parked his car outside the warehouse.
The only light came from his headlights. All of the streetlamps had stopped working a long time ago.
The warehouse appeared to be abandoned. Walking up to the big metal door, he spotted one of the younger guys who worked for them, standing guard.
The kid gave him a respectful nod as he walked in. It still looked like an old warehouse that had been forgotten once you got inside. Cracked windows, dust, cobwebs, that stale stench. But he moved confidently toward the back, to a door where another guard stood. Walking through the doorway, he strode to the trapdoor set in the floor that led to a soundproof basement.
Regent had purchased this warehouse through a series of false companies so no one could trace it back to him.
Climbing down the ladder, he heard the sound of a fist hitting something solid. A grunt followed by a pain-filled groan.
He moved toward the sound. It was dark down here. Damp and cold.
Perfect.
A man he didn’t recognize was hanging by his shacked wrists from a hook in the ceiling. Although not even his own grandmother would recognize him now.
He didn’t flinch at the sight. He’d long since desensitized himself to this sort of violence. He had no qualms dishing this sort of shit out to someone who deserved it. And he’d been briefed on this guy’s background.
He had a rap sheet for possession and armed assault. But that wasn’t what sealed his coffin. He’d been accused of raping and killing a woman about ten years ago in San Diego. The charges had been dropped when the one witness had disappeared.
So, yeah, Victor wasn’t going to feel guilty for what this asshole was going through. They’d received a tip that Patrick had been seen in one of Santiago’s clubs. Which didn’t mean much, but then this guy, who worked for a bouncer in that same club, had started mouthing off about Regent. And all the things that Patrick intended to do to him.
He stood for a moment and watched Basilien, one of Regent’s lieutenants, work the asshole over.
Lukas, another lieutenant, nodded respectfully, stepping up beside him. “Asshole shot one of our guys dead when they were bringing him in. Basilien is taking it personally.”
Ahh, that explained it.
“He said anything else about where Patrick is hiding out?”
“Not yet.”
All right then, time for some answers. He knew Regent wouldn’t approve of him getting his hands dirty. But it wasn’t like they weren’t already black.
He tapped Basilien out and got to work.
Several hours later, he stepped out of the warehouse, needing a shower. Although no shower would ever make him feel completely clean.
But he had a name of a dancer that Patrick was fond of.
She worked in one of the club’s that Santiago owned.
His name was coming up too much for Victor’s liking. Getting out his phone, he checked the time and winced.
He wasn’t going to make it over to the bakery in time to catch Gracen opening up.
Fuck. He hated being torn like this between his two worlds. He’d missed her dance class last night. Afterward, she and a friend would go across the road for a drink. He usually tried to get into the bar before they did, so he could take a seat in the dark at the back.
He wished he could have eyes on her all the time, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once and he didn’t trust anyone else to watch over.
And you want her to be just yours.
Yeah. That too.
Initially, he’d been worried about her driving after having a drink. Then he’d decided to order the same for himself and discovered it was more ice and flavoring than anything else.