Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She was a mess.
When it came to overworked employees, Nia took the first-place prize. Though our new co-worker, Rosie, the lawyer, was slowly catching up to her. It meant that there were many times that Nia practically lived at the office. Like she’d clearly been doing for a while, judging by the uncharacteristic mess all around her.
Her desk was littered with coffee cups—both disposable and ceramic—, energy drinks, candy wrappers, fast food bags, a bag of disposable toothbrush wands, face wipes, lotion, and deodorant. There was a small pile of clothes behind her as well.
“Nia, honey, how long have you been living here?”
“Depends,” she said, sighing. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday,” I told her.
“Oh, then four days. Five? Four and a half, about,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t be too disgusted by me. I took a shower in the apartment upstairs last night.”
“Have you gotten any sleep at all?”
“Well, however long it takes for my chin to meet my chest, times about a thousand,” she said, watching me with bleary eyes.
“Honey, you need some sleep,” I told her, watching as she fished around for something on her desk, knocking wrappers on the floor until she grabbed a little plastic container of red eye wash, uncapping it, then pouring it in her exhausted eyes.
“I will eventually.”
“What have you been working on?”
“Three jobs at once,” she told me, grimacing. “Including yours,” she said, grabbing one of her computer screens and turning it to face me. “Here is the Adams estate,” she explained, bringing up the images. “Three acres. Nine-thousand square feet. For one person,” she added with an eye roll. “He has about half a dozen men on guard at all time. They are professionals, but they fuck around here and there too. Especially late at night when their boss isn’t awake to scold them. So the later, the better. The property is wooded on three sides. Which, again, works in your favor. There is a security system. Before you ask, no, I haven’t been able to disengage it yet.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because he paid a mint for it. It is really advanced. You might be able to try to shut it down at the estate, but I’m not sure about that either. But unless you want to wait it out, going in is your only option right now. I imagine he’s paranoid about Franklin striking back, so he hasn’t left the house since the assault.”
“He should be paranoid. Which is the master bedroom?” I asked, waving at the building.
“Here,” she said, popping up the blueprints. “And these are all the exits. But there is one here,” she said, pointing to the pristine green grounds, despite autumn coming on hard and fast.
“Not seeing anything.”
“You wouldn’t. In fact, no one probably knows but Adams and his team. I found some footage a while back of a bunch of white tents set up spanning the whole distance to his property line. Which maybe would have seemed like he was having some sort of garden party. But they were up for weeks. And there were a ton of construction trucks around as well. It’s an exit. Just in case of an emergency.”
“Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?” I asked, putting the bag of Hershey Kisses on her desk.
“When I get five minutes to breathe, I am formally giving you permission to drug me, cart me off to some exotic island, and let me sleep on the beach with a fresh margarita in my hand while being fanned by hot local men until I recover from this past year of work.”
You knew it was bad when a control freak like Nia was inviting me to kidnap her.
“Hang in there, kid,” I said, getting up to wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to the top of her head. “And you can have that vacation any time you want it. Drugs optional,” I added.
“Honestly, the drugs sound like a nice, deep, uninterrupted sleep,” she said, shooting me a pained smile. “Go on. Get to work. I have my phone if you need any instructions.”
“You’re the best, Nia. Whatever Quin pays you, it isn’t enough.”
“That’s what I keep telling him,” she agreed as I made my way out into the hallway, ramming right into Amita, the other new team member. Our “Spin Artist.”
She was tall and slim with a warm reddish-brown skin tone, long, glossy black hair, and deep brown eyes in her oblong face with sharp cheekbones and full lips.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite new team member,” I said, getting a distracted smile from her as she turned to walk backwards down the hall so she could talk to me but keep moving.
“You’re just saying that because Rosie is a good-looking rich guy.”
“They can’t be trusted,” I insisted.
“So you can’t be trusted,” Amita concluded.
“Precisely. Now you’re catching on.”