Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I could see the top part of her thighs encased in similar work out pants to the ones she wore yesterday. The same t-shirt. The only thing different was her hair.
It cascaded down her back in long waves that nearly reached her butt.
She was laughing.
She was so sexy, it hurt to look at her.
“Who’s that?” Rhea chirped.
“That is the girl he has a crush on,” CeeCee cooed.
I clicked out of the email without commenting, then skipped down to the one just below the one from Tasha.
The subject line read: Meeting time: 2000 hours.
“Fuck me,” I groaned, scrubbing my hands down my face.
It was from Dante Hail.
He owned Hail Auto Recovery, an automobile repossession business, and from time to time, we ran jobs together.
He’d get the vehicle, and I’d get the man.
It worked out in a lot of ways, because most of the time people got downright cranky if you tried to take back their ride.
I was there to recover the men (and sometimes women), because the two of our businesses ran hand-in-hand quite a lot…not that we got along all that well ourselves.
I ignored the two of them as I scanned through the rest of my emails, finally deleting about two hundred of the two hundred and twenty there.
“One of you go get breakfast,” I ordered, leaning to the side and removing my wallet from my back pocket.
I snatched forty out and placed it on my desk before going through the stack of mail.
Owning your own business was not as glamorous as it was made out to be. There were a lot of responsibilities that I disliked immensely.
Such as checking my mail, paying my bills, getting office supplies. Making sure things were clean when clients came in.
“I’ll go,” Rhea snatched the money. “I have to drop off the mail and make the deposits anyway.”
I didn’t say anything as she left, nor did I talk to my other sister.
I had shit on my mind, and a million things I needed to get done before I had to meet Dante later that evening.
But first, I had to make a phone call about a piece of shit car at a bar.
***
Later that night, I was even more tired that I normally was, but I guessed that was what happened when you only had about four hours of sleep within a forty-eight-hour time period.
“Ready,” I slammed a magazine into the butt of my Glock.
Dante eyed me, then moved his eyes to the two other men with him.
I was a one man show; whereas, Dante wasn’t.
It took multiple people to get a car moved when there were dangerous criminals involved.
He was also a smart man, not letting anyone on his crew go out without having back up.
Tonight, Dante being there was a rare treat.
He rarely ever did his own dirty work anymore.
Working by myself, I didn’t have to worry about putting anyone else in danger.
I’d had enough of that in the Navy with a whole fucking team to look out for.
I was over having people die on my watch.
I hated delivering the news of a soldier’s passing to the family. To see the look on a widow’s face when I told her the man I was supposed to protect wasn’t coming home was hell on my heart.
I never wanted to deliver another message like that again, which was why I’d gotten out of the Navy. I was burned out.
Now it was all me, myself, and I.
The only news that would have to be delivered was to the police department if a capture went bad.
Because if it was me or a criminal, it was going to be me every single time if I could help it.
“Nice,” Dante eyed my piece.
I nodded. “It is nice, isn’t it? Just got her yesterday.” Referring to my new Glock 18, semi-automatic pistol.
Dante nodded, turning his eyes to his boys.
“Ready when you are,” he said.
The two men got into the tow truck, and I jumped on the back to hitch a ride before they took off down the street to the house where our mark was located.
It was a shitty house in a shitty neighborhood on the outskirts of Uncertain.
The banks of the river were less than a hundred yards south, and if the inhabitants were smart, they’d have an escape plan already routed out, and it would be on the river.
Which was why I went around the back of the house instead of the front.
Dante was making it so they would have no reason to go out the front.
Their next plan of action would be transportation, and around here that meant the Caddo River.
I’d just hopped off and took up at the back door when Dante texted my phone.
Dante: Car here. Old Chevy Malibu. Gray. 88B-B665 plate.
I circled back around front, and what I saw made my blood boil.
“Motherfucking cock sucking son of a goat fucker,” I growled low in my throat, hurrying to the car and dropping into the passenger side before the driver could shut the car off. “Back up and get the fuck out of here, now.”