Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
The best time to strike will be just after closing time. The owner and his two managers do the clandestine work when the rest of the employees are gone.
I study their comings and goings, checking the weak points in the building as well as the security they have in place. Except for a mediocre alarm system, they have two guards. One is stationed at the front entrance and the other at the back. Both guys are new. They must’ve hired them after learning that Lewis got his throat cut. They probably suspect that we’re on to them. If they’re clever, they’d know Lewis sang like a canary.
That day Giorgio and I paid Lewis a visit at his office, I told him in detail what would happen to his family if he didn’t come clean. He didn’t hesitate in admitting his guilt or telling me how and where he laundered the stolen money. He was a fool to believe Luigi wouldn’t catch on if he cooked the books. He did it inconspicuously, never taking huge sums. What’s a few grand in the greater scheme of a few million? Only, Luigi is the kind of guy who counts every penny. Lewis’s bad. And now it’s these guys’ turn.
Seeing that Giorgio’s culinary skills extend no further than opening a can of beans, I cook dinner. There’s always a supply of food in the cupboards and the freezer. I check the perimeter alarms while he sharpens his knife, and when he gets a few hours of sleep, I send a message to my regular investigator, ordering him to get me any information about Anya Brennan he can get his hands on. It never hurts to do your homework.
As soon as that’s done, I tap into the feed from the cameras I planted in her apartment. I make sure everything works before I install the surveillance app on my phone.
Anya is getting ready for bed. The feed is so clear it’s as if I’m with her in the room. She wears a strappy T-shirt and cotton shorts. Her nipples poke through the thin fabric, the sight making me so hot for her I’m hard in a blink. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the instant arousal. Not even porn has this effect on me.
She climbs into bed and takes a book from the nightstand. I zoom in to read the title.
The A To Z Of Generation Alpha Baby Names.
What names does she like? Hers is unusual enough that I looked it up. It’s the English variant of Aine, which is the name of the goddess of summer in Irish mythology. I wonder if her mother called her that because of her hair. I’ve never seen a color like that—fiery red with streaks of gold like the most gorgeous flames, like the sun itself. Paired with those amber eyes, she looks as if she’s from a different world, a goddess among mortals on Earth. She does her name justice. It’s a wonder no man has snatched her up and claimed her. They must all be fools. Just as well. Any male with a romantic interest in my tesoro will find himself at the other end of my blade.
Keeping the app open so I can watch her sleep, I get to work. There’s much to do, starting with filling up her closet like I stocked her fridge, and then I download a digital copy of The A To Z Of Generation Alpha Baby Names.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Anya
On Saturday, I dress in comfortable jeans and a light sweatshirt before taking the subway to Queens. I get off at the Union Turnpike station and walk the rest of the way to the center in Kew Gardens. The three-story house sits on a vast green lawn. Giant oak and beech trees line the path.
When I use the bras knocker, Bertrand opens the door, wearing his usual white scrubs. His compassionate, soft brown eyes and salt and pepper hair give him a wise, experienced look. The expression on his lined face is always friendly, but he bears the invisible marks of someone who’s seen a lot in his lifetime. It’s not something I can put my finger on. I just sense it. It takes one to know one.
His lips stretch into a wide smile. “Hey, Anya.”
“Hi.” I enter into the spacious foyer. “How’s your daughter? Did she have the baby yet?”
“Any day now.” He closes the door and leads the way down the hallway. “Come through. She’s in her room.”
He opens a security door with a magnetic card and holds the door for me.
Light spills through the double volume windows, basking the interior in sunlight. The rooms are warm and sunny. The cheerful brightness was one of the swaying factors when I decided on this center.
We pass the recreation room where a few people are gathered. A couple plays chess at the table. Automatically, I categorize the moves. The man has seven moves left before he’ll checkmate his opponent. A woman reads a book in an armchair in a cozy spot while the man who sits next to her on the sofa watches television. In the corner close to the sinks, a small group does pottery. Someone is showing them how to use a pedal powered wheel. On the other side, under the skylight that lets in plenty of natural light, a painter gives a watercolor class.