Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“I gotta admit,” Blade added. “He certainly makes life more interesting.”
“I aim to please.”
“You’re all going to jail for this! My car has a GPS system in it. My security team will be on us in no time.”
Wylde looked confused. “GPS?” He looked at Clutch. “You stole a car with a fancy-shmancy GPS system?”
Clutch just shrugged. “What can I say? The car looked sweet and I thought it was worth the risk.”
“Fucker really is a dumbshit.” Surprisingly, that muttered comment came from Blade. “But wait. I suppose that’s not a fair assessment since he has no idea who he’s dealing with.” Blade saluted the guy. “Good luck, pal.”
“I don’t need luck. I have technology on my side.”
“Really.” Blade stepped toward Gleeson, advancing on him slowly. “If that’s true, why do you suppose no one’s here not to rescue you? Had you planned on coming a thousand miles north today?”
For the first time, Gleeson looked unsure. He looked around him like he expected his men to suddenly appear. “What do you mean? They’ll come for me.”
“They had over fourteen hours to find and follow you. Since you’re such an important man, I’m certain they tried to contact you in all that time. They have to know you’re missing. Right?”
“They do,” he said confidently. “I know they do. I also know they’re tracking my limo.”
“Well, they would be,” Wylde interrupted, “if, you know, I hadn’t disabled your entire security network, including the GPS in your car, your phone, your watch, and every other gizmo and gadget you own. In fact, I happen to know your deputy head of security is currently wondering what the fuck happened to you. Your wife, however, could give two shits. Why? ‘Cause she’s bangin’ your chief head of security.”
The man looked like his head was about to explode. If steam could come out of someone’s ears, Gleeson would look like a cartoon character. I also had no doubt he’d try to kill Wylde if he could get his hands on him. Unfortunately for Gleeson, Wylde might be a dipshit goofball sometimes, but he was also deadly when he had to be.
“You’ll never --”
“Yeah, get away with this. I know.” Wylde said with a flip of his wrist. “Heard that at least a dozen times this month. The fact is, it’s you who ain’t gettin’ away with anything.” Wylde picked up a manila envelope from the passenger seat of the truck he and Brick rode in. Pulling out a stack of papers, he waved them in front of Gleeson’s face. “See this? It’s custody papers. You’re gonna sign away your rights.”
“My rights to what? You’re not getting my children, you bastard!”
“Actually, we are. Or, rather, Odette and Cyrus are. She’s carrying your baby, and you’re not going to protest when Cyrus adopts the child.”
Gleeson actually laughed. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I had a vasectomy. I can’t have kids. The bitch might be pregnant, but it’s not mine. And I’m not paying for any bastard child she has.”
“Never asked you to,” Wylde said with a grin. “One thing you really should have paid attention to when you had that little procedure. Takes at least ten weeks for it to take. Sometimes as long as twelve weeks or more.” Wylde asked his next question in a stage whisper. “When’d you get clipped, Stevie boy?”
The man stood there with his mouth open, unable to say a word. Then he shook his head. “No. Not possible.”
“Oh, it’s not only possible, it’s accurate. I had a friend in a lab in a galaxy far, far away do some testing. We got your DNA from… places. Once the baby’s far enough along, we could do a paternity test.”
I shook my head. “Not necessary. I believe Odette when she says you’re the sperm donor. But it doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause you’re gonna sign the document Wylde has there whether or not you’re the father. That way there are no mistakes.”
“Jesus,” Wylde muttered as he handed Gleeson a pen. “How can someone so stupid have made so much Goddamned money?” Then he brightened. “Oh, wait! I know the answer to this one! He didn’t! It’s his wife’s money! He just pretends it’s his to coax young, vulnerable women to his bed. Then he takes what he wants from them and throws them out like trash. Isn’t that right, Stevie boy?” Though Wylde’s expression was bright, I could actually see the underlying anger in him. Maybe I was getting better at this whole emotional bullshit.
“Sign the fuckin’ papers, Stevie,” Brick growled. “I want to get the fuck outa here sometime this century.”
“You have to know I’m going to turn you all in to the police when I get out of here, right?”
“And you said I was the dipshit.” Wylde shook his head. “Hint. When you’ve been kidnapped by badasses and taken to one of the most remote areas of a backwater place like Indiana, you don’t threaten to turn your captors in to the police when they let you go.” He shook his head again, still chuckling. “No wonder your wife’s bangin’ your security chief. He’s gotta be more intelligent than you.” He tilted his head, still looking at Gleeson. “Did you ever even find her clit, Stevie boy?”