Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Now, hold on—”
“Have fun with that, by the way. If the schedule has changed, and you only have two nights before they think they’re arriving? You’re going to have a totally easy time finding an IT guy who specializes in security systems. Dime a dozen. Especially one who you can trust not to fucking blab all over the place.” He leaned in and went sotto voce. “If the great Blind King finds out this group is convening, you all are going to have serious problems.”
Remis’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
“Nope. Hey, I work for Whest, too. It’s a statement of fact.”
“Whestmorel,” the male said absently.
“Tomato, tomata. Or whatever the human saying goes.”
Remis put his hand up to his head, like he had a pounder behind one of his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. If I came across wrong. There’s just been a lot going on, and this needs to go well. Lot of stress.”
Flaring his nostrils, Apex caught the scent of something that, given what he knew of the male, was a surprise: Fear.
Rank fear.
Then again, if you were part of a treasonous plot to reestablish the Council and try to overthrow Wrath, son of Wrath, you had a right to be shitting yourself.
“There was a murder,” Remis said. “Back in Caldwell. One of ours.”
With a frown, Apex said, “Who?”
“Broadius.”
“No . . . shit.” Apex whistled under his breath as he pictured the male who had been mission critical to the plot. “How’d he die?”
“Someone came into his house and slit his”— Remis glanced around as if checking to make sure there was no one else with them—“they slit his fucking throat.”
“When?”
“Last night. His maid found the body.” Remis cursed again. “Broadius was an integral part of all this. So things just got harder.”
“Do they have any idea who did it?”
“One of my maids is the sister of the one who found him. So I’m getting all my information secondhand through my butler. Right now? No. Thank God we got the product off his property last week.”
That last bit was spoken absently, like the guy was talking to himself.
Apex crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what.”
“Now I know why your first question when you came through the door wasn’t about the female you were set to mate in a month.”
Remis didn’t seem to hear anything further. Then again, that made sense. The guy was playing dangerous games.
And the prizes were death, dismemberment, and debridement.
Not in that order.
CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO
Mayhem waited until Mahrci was out of the store before he went over to the woman who was in charge of the self-scan lanes.
Dropping his voice, he said, “Call the police.”
Her eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”
“There’s about to be a robbery.” When she started to tremble and put her hands up, he shook his head. “No, not me. I’m not robbing anything. C’mere.”
Drawing her through the lane, he nodded toward the pharmacy, which was in the far front corner of the store, all the way down on the other side.
“You see those two men—hey, it’s going to be okay.” He moved her back out of sight. “I want you to go behind the customer service counter, and get down while you call their description in. One in a trucker’s hat, the other in a knit beanie. Both in camo flak jackets. They’re about to hold up the pharmacy.”
“How do you—”
“Trust me.”
“Y-y-yes, sir.”
“Go.”
The woman hightailed it over to the customer service department, let herself in, and disappeared.
With that settled, Mayhem moved quickly, jogging on the balls of his feet. As he passed by the canned vegetable aisle, a man with a handbasket was headed toward the checkout.
If only there was time to warn him.
The guy Mayhem had seen first out in the parking lot, the one with the John Deere trucker hat, was standing at the pharmacy’s staff-only door at the far end of the lockup room, his right hand inside his coat, the bill of that cap moving from side to side, as he twitched back and forth on his boots. The other guy, who’d just come in and sealed the deal that something was about to go down, was hovering in front of the drop-off counter, searching his pockets as he stared at the pharmacist.
The woman in the white coat seemed confused. She was frowning and leaning over her counter, as if trying to understand all kinds of mumbling.
Mayhem almost got there in time.
He was still a good twenty feet away as both of the men got guns out at the same moment. The pharmacist immediately put her hands over her head and started stammering.
“Open the door!” the man in the knit hat hissed at her. “I’ll fucking kill you—you open the fucking door—”
Mayhem held off for a count of three—which was the amount of time it took the frightened woman to unlock the glass-fronted room where the drugs were kept. When she did, her body was briefly shielded by the doorjamb.