Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Your pretend daughter for a minute,
Hannah
I let out a howl of rage as I cross the room, picking up my phone and looking at the text message blaring out on the lock screen. Confirming my booking on a one-way private flight to the Cayman Islands.
One. Ticket. Today.
Fuck.
I’ve never pulled my clothes on faster. I rush out of the room like a madman, thumping the elevator button for the lobby so hard it cracks the plastic.
It’s all a mess. I couldn’t explain to her what I was doing, because I would have been forced to tell her everything, all about the work I did for the Albanians, all about how I screwed up their business model when I found out they were smuggling humans like cattle. All about the fact they’ll kill me if I don’t get this deal done.
I couldn’t put all that on her.
But now she thinks I was going to run. Without her. And I’m not sure which is worse.
“I need a car.” I slip the security guard outside the front door a hundred bucks. “Like now, man.”
He shrugs. “I’ll call for one. You want an Uber or a limo?”
“Man, I need a car,” I implore, my voice near pleading, which I wasn’t sure I knew how to do. “It’s about a girl.”
He stares at me for a beat, then nods, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and hands over a key on a silver chain. “Been there, man. Been there. Take mine. It’s a piece of shit, but it will get you where you’re going. Just get it back to me by six, okay? It’s all I got.”
I pull out my phone. “You got Cash App?”
He nods, snapping his tongue along his top teeth. Then gives me his Cash App ID.
I tap my screen, then shove my phone back in my pocket. “That should do it. I won’t have time to bring your car back, get yourself something nice.”
He pulls out his cell and does a double take when he looks at the screen.
“Allllright, man.” He hisses on a nod, holding out a fist for me to bump. “Go get your girl, man. It’s the burgundy Buick LaCross. You gotta stomp the gas to get it to start.” He raises his hand, pointing toward the elevator to the left. “Sub level four, section 8. Gate will open when you pull up.”
I nod a thank you and break into a run.
What feels like hours, but is only a few seconds later, I throw open the door to the old Buick with blue and black duct tape holding up the driver’s side window and slide in, stomping the gas twice then turning the key.
It’s sputters to life, coughing and testing my fucking patience but eventually, the engine smooths and thank fuck, cool A/C blows from the vents.
The sun is just peeking up over Red Rock and for a second the world stops. I had twenty-four hours of perfection with her. She looked at me like I meant something. She played with me in the sweetest and most deviant ways without judgment. There’s no fucking way I won’t bring the most important deal of my life home. I’ve never lost anything I wanted before and I’m not going to lose the one thing I really want now.
The car heaves and lurches down Las Vegas Blvd. as I pull out my buzzing phone. It could be her, she could have gotten my number from Greg…
That bubble bursts. It’s an unknown number but I’m pretty fucking sure who it is. I’m also sure I know what he’ll be calling for. An update. I have to think fast.
“These things take time, Zeneli. You want results, you’ll leave me the fuck alone for another forty-eight hours.”
Will that be enough time to grab Hannah and get out of Vegas?
There’s a light chuckle. “Mr. Belotti… This is Bill Glover.”
I don’t have time for this. If he’s going to try to shame me over fucking my daughter against the window, fuck him. Jealous motherfucker. He can go fuck himself with a scalpel.
My fingers shake as I go to end the call and hear him say, “I want to continue our conversation. I’d like for you to arrange the meeting with your people and I’ll set it up with mine. I tried to find you this morning but apparently, you left in some haste last night.”
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Yeah? Pretty sure ole Margaret there gave you an earful.”
“Made my day,” he laughs. “Made my fucking day. Mr. Belotti, I don’t care who you fuck, family or not, this is Vegas for fuck sake, but I do love that it got Margaret Malcolm’s panties in a twist. She’s a fucking pain in the ass who happened to be married to one of my best friends and my business partner. I’ve got her under control, she’ll come through with her part of the financing. I made sure I got her name on the dotted line already.”