Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
As luck would have it, a young woman manned the counter. The stars and moon must have aligned because Kreed could be very charming in certain situations. Girls usually lost their minds where he was concerned.
“Hey there, pretty eyes, they have you working here all alone tonight?” Kreed asked in a deep Southern drawl. Mitch watched as her smile grew bigger and her eyes glazed over.
“Nah, Denise’s in the back, getting ready to close. But you guys came in yesterday, didn’t you? You were with the investigators, right?” she asked, all perky and eager to talk.
“You have a really good memory, Jazzy. I’m impressed,” Kreed said, staring straight into her eyes, anchoring an arm on the counter.
“Have they figured out what happened to Elliot Greyson?” she asked.
“I just consult. I’m a deputy US marshal, but this looks like a cool place. What’s the best drink you have here?” Kreed had her hook, line, and sinker.
“I’m heading to the john,” Mitch mumbled, neither Kreed nor Jazzy, at least that was what her name badge read, looked his way.
“It depends on what you’re looking for. Do you want a hot or cold drink?” she asked, her voice turning coy, and just like clockwork, Mitch even mouthed the words as Kreed spoke them.
“I always like it hot.” Mitch even gave that wink he knew Kreed bestowed on the girl as he turned the corner to the bathroom. Instead of going left to the men’s room, he went right. He reached for the doorknob and found it locked. No problem there, he just had to hurry.
Mitch reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a small black leather case, and within seconds, jimmied the lock free. He quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind him. The office was filled with boxes, probably overflow storage, and the desk was stacked high with paperwork. Actually, clutter filled the entire space. Better for him. Mitch worked fast at inserting the listening device into the phone. Once complete, he dialed Brown’s cell to make sure they were picking up the signal.
“Kreed works faster than you,” Brown said as he answered the phone.
“Fuck you, can you get a signal?” Mitch said.
“Hang on, they’re working it.”
“I don’t have all day,” Mitch added.
“They got it,” Brown responded. Mitch’s triumph was short-lived when heard a key being inserted in the doorknob.
“Shit,” he barely whispered and quietly placed the phone back on the hook before ducking to the only place he could find to hide in the overcrowded office. He slid under the desk. So not the best place, but maybe this would buy him a little more time before being spotted.
“The Styrofoam cups are in here,” he heard Jazzy say as she opened the door. Shit! Where the fuck are you, Sinacola?
“Isn’t this the office?” Mitch rolled his eyes up, thanking god for the good karma being tossed his way when he heard his friend’s voice.
“Yeah, it’s a mess right now,” she said as she stepped inside the dark office. The lights flashed on, blinding Mitch, and he pulled his body even farther under the desk.
“Here, let me carry that for you.” Kreed’s smooth voice almost made him laugh. He could just imagine Kreed batting his eyelashes.
“I can get it,” she said, but her tone was clear—I’d love for you to carry that for me.
“Anything else?’ Kreed drawled.
“I need to enter the sales for the night, but I can do that after you leave. Your friend has been in the bathroom a long time. I hope he’s okay,” she said. Mitch could tell she was retreating toward the door, thank god.
“He’s got that irritable bowel syndrome. Keeps him in there awhile,” Kreed said in a low voice, as though he was telling her a secret, and right then, Mitch decided to kick Kreed’s ass when they got out of there. Besides, how the fuck had he let her come to this office?
“Oh poor guy, my granddad has that. He can’t always make it to the restroom in time.” Mitch scowled as the light turned off and the door shut behind them.
“Motherfucker,” Mitch hissed, untucking himself from under the desk. His big body wasn’t made for such tight places, and he rolled his shoulders and then his neck.
He needed to call Brown back. Apparently he hadn’t hung up the office phone in his scurry to get under the desk. It was sitting slightly askew in its cradle.
“You still there?” he asked, picking up the phone.
“Irritable bowel syndrome?” Brown asked. Mitch could hear them all laughing in the background.
“Fuck you, fuck him. What the hell else am I doing in here?” Mitch hissed, running his fingers across his jaw.
“Turn the computer on,” Brown said, still laughing. Mitch didn’t say a word as he reached down to the CPU and pushed the button on. The screen slowly lit up, and he waited for Brown’s next instruction.
“All right, we’re in,” he said.
“Everything’s good?” Mitch wanted confirmation before he left. This might be the only chance they had.
“Yep, get the hell out of there,” Brown said, and Mitch disconnected the call. He doubled checked the phone, making sure it looked untouched, and went to the door. With his ear stuck close to the door, he listened for any sounds in the hallway. When he heard nothing, he cracked open the door and slid out, making sure the lock re-engaged when he closed the door. Kreed now had captured both women’s attention and was talking at the front of the store.
“Hey, buddy, everything come out all right?” Kreed asked, acting concerned. Mitch cocked a brow, but stayed silent.
“I guess that means no then.” Kreed pretended to wince.
“I’m sorry about that. I know it’s a hard thing to deal with,” Jazzy said, sympathy written all over her face. He gave her a nod and a small smile.
“Are you ready?” Mitch turned to Kreed and asked.
“What, you don’t want a drink now?” Kreed asked, holding his cup in his hand. He lifted it, taking a long drink to hide his smile.
“No, I don’t.” Mitch turned around and hurried out of the building. Every word they spoke was being recorded and he wasn’t giving that bunch anymore ammunition to harass him. Kreed took a little longer to exit. When he did, he held out a piece of paper.