Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Alannah isn’t paying attention; she’s fishing through her handbag as she walks toward the street, and before she sees me, I’ve shackled her wrist with my hand, and her eyes widen as I back her up about half a dozen paces to the brick wall.
“Hello, Alannah,” I greet.
“What are you doing?” she hisses bitchily, but she’s afraid. It’s all over her body language.
“You really should pay attention when you’re out in public. Anyone could grab you, throw you in a van,” I gesture toward a white sprinter van that just so happens to be parked out on the street, “and you might never be seen again.”
Her eyes boing to almost comical levels.
“By the way, don’t attempt to fuck with me again,” I warn, making sure there’s no mistaking my seriousness. “Your little game yesterday cost a lot of unnecessary headaches.”
“If you think you’re above the law, you’re wrong. I’m not finished fighting for Chloe.”
“I know. I’ve seen your phone records, your internet activities, and I’ve got access to a whole lot more information about you than you want me to have. Cancel your coffee date with Sabrina Steele on Thursday. The only way you get to meet my sister-in-law in person is if it’s because you get to be part of our extended family and she becomes friendly with my wife.”
She glares at me.
“Your quest to keep digging for dirt about us is stupid, Alannah. If you keep it up you’ll have more than me from my family to deal with and believe me, you don’t want that. And I happen to have a file in my possession with a good chunk of Fisher family dirt, particularly yours.”
Her eyes narrow.
I continue. “I’m playing as nice as I am because Chloe loves you. Don’t push me any further. Cease and desist, Breastie, or you’ll be out of Chloe’s life. You’ve already missed her wedding and I’m sure that later on, you’ll both look back at that with regret. Do you want to be cut out of her life entirely? Do you want new problems in your personal and professional life? Or do you want to be part of her new and improved happier life?”
She continues to stare at me defiantly, but her lip trembles.
“Fuck around and find out,” I warn through gritted teeth and then let go of her wrist.
Alannah storms to her car and peels out.
I get into my car, check my phone for the message from Kenny with the address for Jeannie Gilligan, then punch it into my navigation system.
I already know Craig Jenkins spent time with Jeannie yesterday. Kenny followed him to her house. He was there over an hour, and he clocked being tailed on the way home. Kenny’s good. Jenkins must be good, too. Would be nice to have him in our pocket, but if he keeps his end of our bargain and doesn’t cause me further hassles, I’ll grant my wife’s wish and let him continue to wear his white hat.
I had Kenny do a quick background check, nothing too deep, but seems like there’s not much to tell of her life. Jeannie Gilligan moved here after high school, and reconnected with Hallman the freshman year of college. Enrolled in his school, likely to rekindle their thing. She grew up on the same street as Adam Hallman (formerly Dalton), dated him long distance for a year in high school, they split, and she’s been carrying a torch ever since. She has a 9-5 clerical job at the courthouse, has very few friends, is trying to make money with a side hustle as an online influencer, and has a steady routine.
On Tuesday nights at seven o’clock, she goes to a thirty-minute hot yoga class six blocks from her apartment. I kill time in the bookstore, buying a couple of books for Chloe, then five minutes before class is set to finish, I park near the yoga studio and watch the door.
Yeah, I’ve got people that can do this for me, but in a situation this personal, a situation that involves slandering Chloe’s name? It’ll be more impactful coming directly from me.
She steps outside the yoga studio with another woman, and they stand outside talking for a good ten minutes. I’m ready for this to be done. I want to get home to my wife. I also haven’t eaten since breakfast at my parents’.
Finally, they go separate ways.
She walks about a hundred feet and then cuts right down a side street. I jog until I get to the turn and then slow down, keeping thirty or forty feet behind her.
She hasn’t looked back for a good block and a half, so I squat, nab a small rock, and pitch it. It pings off the side of her head and bounces off her shoulder.
She startles, grabs the side of her head, and looks over her shoulder. It takes a solid three seconds before her body language tells me recognition has hit. I pick up my pace. Anger burns hot in my system. This bitch.