Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Grabbing my gym shorts off the floor, I stepped into them. “Duchess?” I announced as I walked into the living room.
She wasn’t there either. I looked in the kitchen and all around the safe house, still coming up empty.
“The fuck?” I whispered to myself, confused about where she could be. “Sloan?” I shouted, walking out onto the balcony to see if she was somewhere outside on the property.
It didn’t take long for panic to set in, especially after my men said they hadn’t seen her. Moving quickly, I grabbed my cell phone and called her.
It went straight to voicemail.
Uncontrollable fear ran through my blood, making it cold. At that moment, I knew in my gut…
In my heart.
In my soul.
I knew it had something to do with me.
The pain.
The turmoil.
It didn’t come close to comparing to what I felt for the next twenty-four hours trying to find her… And she was nowhere to be found.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
SLOAN
My eyes fluttered open, and all I saw was darkness.
Big.
Empty.
Darkness.
I wasn’t just scared. I was fucking terrified. I lay there in a state of shock and waited…
Silently praying I’d make it out of this alive.
LUKE
Three days.
Three fucking days and I had yet to hear from or find Sloan. It was as if she just disappeared, and the longer it took, the less chance I’d find her unscathed. It was a tale as old as time—use your loved ones against you. It was textbook shit, and I still put her in the line of fire, fully aware this might happen.
Especially after I started collecting souls.
I should have known better.
All of this shit was my fault. My mind began to spiral on an endless loop.
If she was hurt…
If she was alive…
The fear was never-ending.
I nodded to the receptionist behind the counter at Judge Waterford’s office. “Is he in?”
“Yes, he’s in his office. I’ll tell him you’re—”
“Don’t bother,” I chimed in, walking back there myself.
“Sir! Let me—”
I waved her off, opening his door instead. He immediately looked up, jerking back. The man was all work and no play. Nobody would believe the beloved family man and father of four children was as corrupt as they came. He got paid millions by the families of high-profile criminals to overturn the jury’s convictions. Letting murderers, drug dealers, and every villain between walk away free and clear.
It wasn’t about the money, though, at least not for him. Everyone thought money was the root of all evil, but it wasn’t. It was power, and this motherfucker got off on knowing he was untouchable.
Trust me, he made sure of it.
My silence was a far greater reward in the long run. It only benefited me.
“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?” he asked, leaning back in his leather chair.
I shut the door behind me and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “I’m here to call in my favor.”
I helped him nail a few cases, and he was my last resort.
He nodded. “Is it legal?”
“When has that ever mattered?”
He fell forward, placing his arms on his desk. “I guess not.”
“I wouldn’t be here unless it was life-and-death.”
“Sounds serious. Does this have to do with the shoot-out on Richardson the other night?”
“Something like that.”
He sighed deeply.
“I need your help finding someone, but all I have is her first name and the name she DJs under. My men can’t find her, so I need you to.”
“Why does this sound like you’re asking me to get involved with a kidnapping?”
“’Cause you are.”
He smiled, big and wide. “That’s what I like about you, Jameson. You never let your guard down, not even for a second.”
“What can I say? I want to be just like you when I grow up.”
“Back to the girl, you think you know, or you know?”
“I know,” I sternly stated the truth, cocking my head to the side.
“Then it’s safe to assume she’s important to you.”
I nodded.
Then I told him everything, including what was going on with the son of a bitch who was trying to take me out.
“Let me see what I can do,” he quickly stated.
He was about as old as my old man, and they had done business together.
“You know your father would burn the whole world down if he knew what you were into, right?”
“Why does it matter to you? You’re still getting paid regardless.”
“Call it genuine curiosity. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and you still choose to live a life of crime. Explain that to me.”
“It’s in my blood,” I simply stated.
“Your father didn’t have a choice, but you do. It’s something more than that. It’s almost like a personal vendetta for you. Why?”
“What is this, a goddamn therapy session?”
“And here I thought we were friends.”
“Friends is a term I use loosely.”
I stood and left.
With a guilty conscience.
With a broken heart.
With my mind and body ready to kill.