Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I realize I said my last statement out loud when Thane throws his hands in the air. “Finally we’re getting somewhere.” He drops his arms and glares at me. “But maybe you should mention that to her occasionally instead of emailing the nanny agency, begging for her replacement.” He backhands me like it is the only thing stopping him from turning our exchange physical. “Caroline said you were daft at reading people, but I had no clue it was this bad.”
I let his comment slide since it is accurate. I’ve always been bad at reading people. It is one of the reasons I’ll never be anything more than hired muscle to the bureau. I can’t profile to save my life.
My brows furrow when part of his reply smacks into me. “What do you mean I emailed the agency for a replacement? I forwarded my concerns to Nancy, but she isn’t back for another week.”
Before he can answer me, Henley’s cell phone rings.
“Put it on speaker,” I demand when Thane picks it up to answer it.
“I found her,” a girlie voice shrieks down the line before Thane can get in a word. “She’s at a bar a couple of clicks from your location.”
“Name?” Thane asks, his head not as clouded with information as mine.
A keyboard being clicked sounds down the line before she answers, “Aeros Club. It is a—”
“Known mafia location,” I interrupt, cussing. “How’d you find her so fast?”
When she remains quiet, Thane offers an introduction. “Amelia, meet Brodie. Brodie, Amelia, Henley’s BFF.”
“Nice to…” Her words trail off for barely a second before they come back fast and heavy. “Henley is gaining a lot of interest.”
Not needing any clarification to decipher what she means, I snatch Henley’s phone out of Thane’s hand and then demand, “Watch Lucy until I get back.”
“I can get Henley.”
Ignoring him, I grab my gun from the safe in my office, stuff it down the back of my trousers, then commence calling in a suspected possession charge for the Aeros Club. “Units should be advised suspects may be armed. Approach with caution.”
I head for the garage as a nine-one-one operator dispatches my call over numerous channels.
“You’re taking your bike?” Thane asks when I rip off its dust cover and unplug the battery saver. “You haven’t ridden that since Caroline died.”
“It’ll be faster than my truck since I can take a walker’s route.”
“And you need to be quick,” Amelia interrupts, backing me up. “She’s a mouse in a snake pit, seconds from being bitten.”
When an image pops up on the phone screen showing Henley butting shoulders with two known gangsters, I throw my leg over my bike, kick-start it, toss on my helmet, then crank my neck back to Thane.
He reads the fret on my face like no one else. “I won’t let anything happen to her. I swear to fucking God.”
He’s only just finished crossing his heart when I fly out of the garage at the speed of a bullet leaving a gun. This is the one thing I loved about my numerous placements with the bureau over the past sixteen years. How easily you can pretend to be someone you’re not.
An outlaw.
A biker.
The cousin of a mafia kingpin.
I can be anyone I want to be, bar the title I never wanted.
A widower.
That never opens doors. It only ever closes them.
I shake my head to rid it of horrid thoughts before taking the corner at a speed faster than safe. Once I narrowly miss an oncoming vehicle, I seek an update from Henley’s friend. “Is she still at the bar?”
“No.” Her voice is projected through my helmet now. “They’re walking her toward the back exit.”
“They?”
I hear her swallow before she answers, “There are three of them. One on each arm and a third trailing behind. He’s wearing a suit and a sleezy grin.”
I push the bike to its absolute limits. I thrash the living shit out of it before practically diving off it when I reach the back entrance of Aeros.
As the paintwork that cost more than I could afford at the time scrapes along the concrete, my fist finds its way into the first man’s face, and my spare hand bands around Henley’s waist to pull her behind me.
He lands on his ass with a thud as the ringleader pulls his phone from his ear. He is clearly in charge when he signals for the second goon to approach me.
Since his face looks like it’s taken a hundred hits in the past week alone, I aim my fist lower. I hit him in the Adam’s apple. It is a kill shot for someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, but for me, it will keep him down long enough to get Henley to safety. Currently, she’s leaning against a dumpster, too intoxicated to stand without assistance.