Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
After checking through several drawers and finding his computer is password protected, I’m about to leave, when I remember he has a safe. He once told me the code is under his desk in case anything ever happened to him. I find the paper and input the code, and the safe clicks open. Inside, I find a couple insurance papers, his will, and in the back, I find his gun from last night. He should’ve gotten rid of that.
Grabbing a hand towel from the bathroom, I wrap the gun up in it. I don’t know what Logan is up to, but I’m going to be taking this as collateral in case anything goes down regarding the cop. Like I said before… friends close, enemies closer.
I close the safe, put the paper back under the desk, and lock up behind me. When I get home, I take the wrapped-up gun and put it into a baggy, and place it into my safe. Then I take a quick shower and go to bed. I’ll deal with Logan tomorrow.
I wake up to my phone ringing and, judging by the light shining through, it must be at least nine or ten in the morning. It better be Logan letting me know he found the runaway woman.
The caller ID says Pops.
“Hey, Dad.”
“You asleep at noon?” His tone is concerned. I don’t usually sleep in. Life is too damn short to waste it sleeping.
“I’ve been putting out fires at The Warehouse,” I say, sitting up and stretching.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m handling it.”
“Okay, we’ll talk when I get home. How’s everything else?”
I pull the sheets back and get out of bed to take a piss. “Everything is good. I just got back from New York a few days ago and everything is running smoothly up there. How’s the Dominican Republic?”
My dad is quiet for a beat too long. Jesus, is everyone hiding shit from me? “Dad, I swear to fucking God if you’re hiding something from me, heads are going to roll. I’m already up to my goddamn eyeballs in bullshit with Logan.”
“Logan?” he asks, ignoring the part about him. “What the hell did he do? I told you not to hire him.” Fuck. I shouldn’t have let that slip. My dad has never liked Logan. I probably should’ve listened to him all those years ago when he told me not to mix business with friendship.
“I can’t talk about it over the phone. What’s going on with you?”
“I’d rather speak to you when I get home. I’ll be home in the next week or so.”
“All right. I need to get off and go find Logan. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Son. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Pops.”
We hang up, and I check my phone to make sure Logan hasn’t tried to text or call.
No calls. No texts. Guess I’ll be paying him a visit later, but first I need to stop by The Warehouse to speak with Erika. There are a lot of spots that are going to need to be filled and I need her to get on it. I almost fired her ass last night, until Luis admitted they made sure to keep what they were doing hidden from her. I can’t fault her for not realizing what was happening, if I didn’t even know. So, I let her keep her job… for now.
I spend the rest of the afternoon at the club, combing through every one of my employees and making sure only the ones I can trust are left on the payroll, while Erika sets up interviews. When I check my cell phone and see it’s almost 7:00 p.m. and Logan still hasn’t called or texted, I decide another visit is in order. Maybe this time he’ll be home.
I pull into Logan’s driveway and notice his car isn’t there once again. I head inside to see if he came home at all last night or this morning before letting him know I’m here. The door is barely open when I hear screaming and crying coming from the back of the house. I close the door behind me and head to where the screams are coming from. There’s no sight of Logan, but his office door is closed and locked from the outside, and the screaming is twice as loud up close. What the hell…
I turn the knob, but it doesn’t open. I get a knife from the kitchen and, sticking it between the doorjamb and the door, I bust the lock, the wood doorframe splintering in the process. Swinging the door open, I pull my gun out from inside my holster just in case. But when I see what’s behind the door, the sight in front of me stops me in my place.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Nevaeh
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
My screams come to an abrupt halt as the man standing in front of me takes my breath away for the second time in the last seventy-two hours. His familiar coffee-colored eyes meet mine, sending chills straight down my spine. I try to swallow and can feel the burning in my throat from the last several hours of screaming and crying. My chest tightens as I stare at him, my breathing becoming labored. My heart is pounding so hard, it’s pulsating through my body, and if my hands weren’t tied up, I would bring them to my chest in a futile attempt to slow it down.