Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
I recoil, my anger shrinking along with my body. Fuck it. “You should have sent the fucker to me and I would have put a bullet in his fucking head.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was a good idea either, given who he is.”
Initiative. Loyalty. Leon’s got it all. And the hots for my girl. The fuck, Brad? “Get on with it,” I snap. “And use the rear entrance.”
“Already parked there, B-Boss.” Leon and Nolan leave, and I turn, placing my empty on the bar.
“Another?” Anya asks.
“No.” I take a stool, seeing Otto walk into the club.
“The phones you gave me to look into?” he says, pulling one out.
Finally.
“This is what I found.”
I look at the screen. “Jesus, Otto.” I turn away from the footage of a woman bent over—“Wait, is that my desk?” I brace myself and look again. “That’s my fucking desk.” I point, ignoring the sight of a man’s ass driving forward and retreating.
“Recognize the arse?”
My eyes widen in disgust as I study the bare cheeks. “Nolan,” I murmur. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“She has a lot of messages and calls from someone in particular.”
“Who?”
“Someone called Cody. But it’s on this phone.” He holds up the other cell. “Boyfriend?”
“For fuck’s sake.” I take down Cody’s number, handing that phone back to Mason before pocketing the other.
“I’m going home.” Otto leaves.
“Where the fuck is he?” The little fucker. Hasn’t he learned? I start to rise, ready to go reinforce a few lessons, but a man approaching the bar catches my eye. I look him up and down and don’t like what I see. He’s got a cocky air about him. And trouble written all over his pumped-up, muscled body. His neck’s thicker than my thighs, his lip in a constant sneer.
My beef with Nolan is momentarily forgotten. I get comfortable, and Mason doesn’t miss my observations.
“What can I get you?” he asks the guy.
“Rum and Coke.”
Mason eyes me as I raise my brows, tapping the top of my glass. I think I’ll stay for another after all. He takes care of the customer first. Then me. I lift my drink to my lips as the guy settles and waves Mason over again, reaching into his pocket. He pulls something out and slaps it on the bar. “I’m looking for this girl.”
My glass pauses at my lips, and I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever’s in the picture. Red invades my vison. My glass lowers. My stomach turns.
What the fuck?
Who the fuck is he?
Mason stares at the picture, playing it cool, and then discreetly looks out the corner of his eye to me. I mildly shake my head and set my glass down, willing my heart to stop beating so hard and fast. “Never seen her,” Mason says, taking a towel and wiping his hands.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Mason looks at him, face straight, serious.
“I heard she was seen around here,” he presses, scanning up and down the bar area. Looking for Pearl.
Mason’s jaw rolls. He’s getting worked up. I’m with him. “You heard wrong,” he says, his voice tight. He’s gonna lose his shit soon. I flatten my hand on the bar and lift and lower slowly, telling him to dial it down.
“Like I said, never seen her before,” Mason says calmly, hearing me. “The drink’s twelve bucks.” Translated: shut up and drink before I break your legs.
I watch as the guy picks up his glass and slowly tips it back, eyes on Mason, goading him. Dumb fuck. He drains the glass and calmly sets it back on the bar. Pushes it calmly toward Mason. Leisurely reaches for the photograph. Drags it at a snail’s pace across the wood, slipping it back into his pocket. It’s all so very passive-aggressive. And really fucking stupid.
He doesn’t pay for his drink but turns his back on Mason and has a long, thorough look around the club, not showing any interest in the dancers, before he turns back to the bar. “Don’t mind if I use your facilities before I leave, do you.” It’s not a question.
Mason looks at me out the corner of his eye again, and I nod down at my empty. “Sure thing,” he says. “Down the corridor across the back of the club.”
He doesn’t thank Mason, and still doesn’t pay, wandering slowly off, his beefy body rocking as he walks. I follow him with my eyes, eventually turning on my stool when I can’t twist my neck anymore.
“What the fuck was all that about?” Mason asks.
I ignore him, obviously, not letting my eyes leave the guy’s back. “Make sure no one uses the men’s.” I get up and follow the guy to the restrooms, my mind spinning, my blood boiling. The brazen fucker walks into my club and thinks a bit of passive-aggressiveness will go down well?