Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
The scene before us had me stopping in my tracks.
The helicopter that had been inbound had already landed. The blades were slowly spinning as if they’d just been shut down, but there was a man sitting in the pilot’s seat, clearly ready to start the machine back up upon command.
Cass’s grandmother was standing just outside of the helicopter, little Charlie in front of her. The child was swaying back and forth like he was trying not to nod off. Renly was standing next to Cass’s grandmother. A rifle was slung over his shoulder, but it was the semiautomatic gun pointed at Charlie’s head that had everyone, including all of the men Sully had assigned as backup for us, standing completely still, their weapons aimed directly at Renly and Patricia Ashby.
The woman before us looked nothing like the frail, confused grandmother I’d met just days earlier. Patricia Ashby looked like she should have been standing in front of a Rolls Royce parked outside of a huge Victorian-style home. Although I knew for a fact that the woman was in her mid-seventies, not only did she hold herself like a woman half her age, but she was also dressed the part. Designer beige stilettos, a sleek skirt that ended just above her knees, a white blouse peeking through a short jacket that matched the skirt. A colorful scarf was wrapped around her neck and there was a sheer piece of fabric covering her hair to prevent the wind from turning her perfectly pinned hair into a frizzy mess. Flawless makeup and minimal but expensive jewelry completed the look.
In short, Patricia Ashby was a stunning woman, but beyond the clothes and accessories, there was nothing. No emotion in her eyes, no warmth in the way she held herself, no weakness or flaw of any kind. She held her drugged grandson against her body as if he was nothing more than an expensive handbag on her arm. The fact that there was a gun pointed at the little boy’s head didn’t faze her in the least.
Patricia had the audacity to smile at Cass as he kept his gun trained on her. “Hello, my little rose,” she said. “Renly tells me your father finally grew a backbone so he could save his little boy, well, both his boys. It sounds like that backbone won’t do him much good now.”
The amusement in her voice as she spoke about her own son was sickening.
“Renly also tells me your father was a naughty boy. Isn’t that right, my love,” Patricia asked Renly, though she kept her eyes on Cass. He had yet to react in any kind of way.
“Seems Chandler finally grew a brain and had that window replaced with something that would slow a bullet from my baby here”—Renly lifted his shoulder enough to point out the long-range sniper rifle—“so it would only go through one body, not two.”
“I think I may have misjudged my little boy,” she said. “Perhaps if I’d gotten to him sooner, his father wouldn’t have had time to fill him with silly notions like marrying for love or following foolish dreams.” Patricia shook her head in disgust.
“Why?” Cass asked, his voice breaking. He put his weapon back in his shoulder holster and took a few steps forward.
“Why what?” Patricia asked as if it was the stupidest question in the world. “Why did I spend my entire life making the Ashby name mean something? Why did I leave you to rot in that prison? Why did I have Renly put a bullet through his”—she shifted her now hatred-filled eyes to me—“pretty little head while you watched?” The woman returned her gaze to Cass. “I’ll admit, the prison thing was a little bit of a mix-up, but it did have a silver lining.”
“And what was that?” Cass asked, his voice now dead, cold.
“Why, to make you a better man, a stronger one. I’ll admit, I wasn’t pleased about that whole Marine thing at first,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But then it occurred to me that voters like candidates with a military record.” Patricia pouted as she continued, “Cassius, I had all these plans for you and then you take up with that. My little rose, you can stick your dick into any mouth, ass, or pussy you want, but I taught you discretion.”
Patricia glanced at Charlie. “My, he is getting heavy. I think I may have given him just a bit too much of this,” she said to Renly as she lifted up a prescription bottle and gave it a little shake.
“Yes, mum,” the man responded. Unlike Patricia, his lovesick expression spoke volumes. The asshole had no idea he’d be the next in line to get a bullet through the head the second he was no longer useful.
“Now,” Patricia said, swinging her eyes back to Cass. “Since you’ve made a mess of my plans… or rather, your incompetent father did, may God rest his soul, of course… I now find myself with a bit of a dilemma. Perhaps you can assist, my little rose.” She smiled.