Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
More importantly, Junie’s safe.
Maybe she’ll even forgive my stupid ass someday.
I keep that last part to myself.
My brothers won’t understand if that’s my top priority, but hell, I’m the idiot who got her into this mess. I need to be the one to get her out.
“And what happens if he slams the door in your face? Hell, what if he decides to shut you up?” Archer asks. Always the sensible one, searching for the weaknesses in every plan, every contract. “What will you do if somebody pulls a gun on you?”
“Who brings a gun to a business meeting?” I spread my hands, knowing how weak that sounds. “Let’s assume Haute doesn’t know everything. He knows we stumbled on his cash, yeah. He knows we’re onto him using the Sugar Bowl for mule stuff, but that’s it. He’s still in town. No abrupt exits for him, knowing how suspicious that would look. He won’t be armed, especially if we meet at one of his properties.”
“We’ll be close by,” Patton says. “And armed.”
I nod, surprised at how fast it’s coming together from a harebrained scheme.
If this goes right, everybody wins.
One good recording gives Gillian Batista a nice big arrest. Junie might never speak to me again, but at least she won’t be in danger, and this whole thing will be ancient history.
“Are you with us, Arch?”
“This is a stupid damn idea, but it’s all we’ve got,” he rumbles, sticking out his hand to shake mine. “We’ll be close by the second you need help. Try to come back alive.”
If I learned anything in Syria, it’s that you don’t let fear stop you cold.
You just keep moving, even if it’s all inertia.
After I call Haute’s assistant, asking to book a meeting ASAP at the Mill, the only thing left is to get ready.
I show up early, muddled with doubt. I feel like fucking Archer as I pace around the floor.
Junie flashes in my brain in punishing flickers.
Her sunshine smile.
Her searing kiss.
Her overfed furball and her stupid-ass jungle of plants.
I know I should’ve handled it differently.
If I’d told her my concerns from the start, if I’d let her in as a partner instead of trying to protect her with ignorance, maybe this shit never would have happened like it did.
I don’t even want to know if she’ll be home when I return—fuck, if I return.
Still, no matter how much I’ve hurt her, at least she’ll be safe after this. If I couldn’t keep her heart, I’m not losing the chance to set her free.
The Sugar Bowl will keep going without any hitmen chasing off its owner. She’ll get the rest of the money I owe. Maybe a few anonymous donations, too.
If she doesn’t know it’s the asshole who smashed her heart, she can’t refuse them.
And it’ll be worth it, knowing she’ll succeed.
I just have to get through the next few hours.
I just have to feed Forrest goddamned Haute a big lie one more time.
Archer and Patton are at a café up the street. After twenty minutes, if they don’t hear anything, they’ll come to check things out.
Until then, I’m on my own, making the most important sale of my life.
I pat my pocket, making sure the old-school digital voice recorder is still there. There’s too much risk with a phone, and this little device is small and unobtrusive enough. It doesn’t even leave a bulge in my pants.
Hopefully, it should pick up everything we need to land a warrant and end this fuckery.
Haute shows up late with his usual swagger, hiding his power in wide shoulders and slicked-back hair. His bearish brown eyes are as unreadable as ever.
Everything about him screams ‘rich,’ from the showy gold watch on his wrist to the expensive suit and designer cologne wafting off him like a sea breeze.
He’s a man who prides himself on being the most expensive if he can’t be the best.
In his mind, they’re the same thing.
I wonder how much blood is on his hands. How many atrocities did he have a hand in to maintain these lavish appearances?
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says without a hint of real apology. I’m not stupid, keeping me waiting is a pure power move.
I nod slowly, following him to the elevator.
“Frankly, I was a bit surprised when I received the meeting request. All things considered, I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“Then you have the wrong impression, Mr. Haute,” I say smoothly. “I don’t turn my back on friends, let alone the ones who impress me.”
He stares at me, cold and assessing before his eyes light. I’m not prepared for the thick hand that slaps my shoulder, rocking me back.
“Let’s step out on the balcony, Dex—the views are positively deadly here. We’ll have a drink and you can tell me what this is really all about.”
So far, so good.