Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
GABRIEL
Present
Staring down at the dozen roses in the passenger seat of my Lexus, I have to chuckle to myself.
“I’m getting old and soft,” I murmur, laying a hand on the wrapper. It crinkles slightly, and the sweet scent of the roses wafts toward me. Maybe it’s true. It’s an inevitable fact of life that I’ve probably got more miles behind me than in front of me.
But having her again has me feeling reborn. And when she’s in my arms, I’m definitely anything but soft.
Still, twenty years changes a man. When I left town, I was almost penniless. I fled to the UK because I had a few connections there I could trust, and in hiding, with an anonymous identity, I rebuilt. It took me years, but when you know the right people, and more importantly, know where the bodies are sometimes literally buried . . . opportunities are only an ask away.
And I made the most of every single fucking one of them. Part of it, of course, was that my partners were more than content to continue working with me since I would often do the lion’s share of the effort while they got to celebrate the public adulation. I wanted to be the man in the background, the shell corporation with a Swiss bank account and little else.
But even an unfair share of billions is enough money that it’s now no object to me. My entire life is now dedicated to one purpose and one purpose only . . . my Kiersten.
With her in mind, my throat tightens and the anxiousness pricks at the back of my neck. A piece of paper peeks out from underneath the dozen roses. It’d been stuck underneath the windshield wiper on my car when I came out of the florist, and at first I thought it was a parking ticket.
When I pulled the paper out, it wasn’t a ticket, and the blood drains from my face once again. Oh, it looked like one, on a parking ticket form and with a logo in the upper left corner that almost looked like the shield of the local cops. However, in the box marked Violation, none of the pre-printed boxes were checked. Instead, written in the space marked Other was a single question.
When did Kiersten become Madam Lynn?
The call to my contact, Roland, was immediate as I looked up at every corner of the lot hoping for a camera. There are none. Whoever left it did so without a trace, but my people are searching for nearby traffic cams and anything and everything that could be helpful.
I’m hesitant as I pick up the roses and get out of my car. If they know her name and they knew my car, then they know where she lives, and she’s far safer with me than without me. I fucking hate that this happened. I hate that I did exactly what I feared twenty years ago. As the car door shuts, I nearly slam it, unable to control the swarming regret that’s consumed me for hours.
I left her to keep her safe, and the first chance I get to see her, I lead danger right to her. I fucking hate myself. I should have stayed away. Now it’s too late, and I’ll be damned if I leave her again or force her to start over. She’ll hate me. She’ll never forgive me.
I look down at my phone again, praying something comes through. Anything at all. I can’t imagine who it could be, who could give a fuck, or what they even think they have on me. I’ll deny it all. They have no proof. I’ll fucking kill them if I have to. I’ll do anything not to make the same mistake again.
I’m about halfway through the parking garage and approaching the elevator when my phone rings and I see who it is. “Yes?”
“I was able to get my hands on the nearest security camera footage. It was unhelpful.”
“How so?”
“Hooded figure, nondescript clothes, no visible marks or tattoos on the hand. They didn’t wear gloves, though. Do you still have the note?”
“It’s in my car.”
“I could come get it.”
I think for a second and nod. “Do it. I don’t know if there’s fingerprints on it, but do what you can.”
“I doubt there’s going to be anything, but I’ll do my best. Whoever this is . . . they know their business.”
“So do I.” I hang up and finish crossing the parking lot. Pushing the button on the elevator, I wait, roses in my arms.
I know my business. My business is Kiersten.
And I’m a man who’ll do anything to make sure my business is protected.
KIERSTEN
The Past, December
When this all started nearly a year ago, I never thought it would go this far. I thought I’d maybe have a bit of sex, maybe degrade myself a little bit in the process, which quite frankly turned me on, but also hopefully learn more about what I like and I don’t like and make a good amount of money.