Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
“Do you think Mauer will approach them?” I ask him even though I know Jase can’t know for sure. None of us can. This plan is risky in a number of ways.
The detective, who left his house unattended in order to tail the man he believes is me, hasn’t stopped sitting on our house since Braelynn got home. We had to get him away and while doing so, provide an alibi.
So one of our men and his girl, who happen to be wearing our clothes and resemble Braelynn and me, are doing us a favor right now and picking up a duplicate marriage license. Of course our lawyer is with them, accompanying the couple as Detective Mauer would imagine he’d do. I’m sure the detective is fucking fuming as he sits in the front seat of his SUV, watching a couple he couldn’t crack get married to prevent questions about each other. His cops can’t approach her since the files have been drawn against them, so he’s forced to do the dirty work.
It was Carter’s idea. Distract the detective and keep him away while we pilfer through his place.
It will only work if the detective doesn’t approach them. If he does, he’ll know it’s a setup. Our alibi will be non-existent. Tension rolls through my shoulders.
“How much time do we have until they head back?” I question as we walk downstairs, stepping over the broken glass of picture frames thrown off the walls. It didn’t take long to look behind every surface, nook, and cranny of this place.
His office is next, naturally.
“Another twenty but we need to get the hell out of here,” Jase answers, picking up his pace.
The smell of gas hits us the moment we make it to the first floor. Jase left the empty jugs by the front door and I don’t waste any time grabbing one.
“It feels like old times, doesn’t it?” he asks with a grin before taking one more look around and shaking out the last jug.
“It does,” Carter agrees, although his eyes never reach ours. He’s too busy looking over every inch in the last few moments we have.
Back in the beginning, when everything went to shit and Carter stood up for us, protected and fought for us, and we followed him into this life, it was only us.
For years it was just the four of us. No one knew a single move we made. We didn’t rely on a damn soul to get to the top. We fucking earned it.
My grip tightens and I nod, a hint of nostalgia easing some of the concerns.
“Good ol’ days,” I comment, remembering how different those times were.
There have been more than a few times in the past where we’ve had to bring the plans in. Shut out some people and limit who we trusted with our plans. It’s been years though since it’s only been us. Just the brothers. A grim smile almost pulls my lips up. It doesn’t quite reach though as I hold my souvenir from this trip tighter. A notebook, with every little detail the detective has on the case against us. Hopefully, it’ll include a name here or there or a hint at who the fucking rat is. Or rats. My heart beats harder and anger simmers. All I want is the name of whoever the hell set up my Braelynn. The name of the person who let her take the fall knowing full damn well we’d have her killed.
“He’ll know it was us,” Carter comments, interrupting my thoughts. Thank fuck.
I clear my throat and look down to the floor, nudging a chunk of ceramic from a broken vase as my brothers talk.
“No shit,” Jase answers and then adds, “he won’t be able to prove it though.”
I take another look around the house that doesn’t look like it has been updated since the ‘80s. This small town on the outskirts of the city is old, way off the highway. So it wasn’t surprising to see dated wallpaper in the cramped space and cigarette smoke clinging to the worn leather sofa. It was decently maintained for a single man like Mauer. I imagined he barely spent any time in this place until we got to his office upstairs.
It was a mess before we got there, with ashtrays and empty bottles scattered among filing boxes, but it’s trashed now.
And the photos of us from some PI are covered in gasoline…well all apart from the ones tucked away in this little notebook with handwritten details of our whereabouts and businesses. Within the first few pages were hypothetical dealings he suggested we were involved in.
And he’s right.
Which means tonight the house will turn to ash and he’ll meet that fate soon as well.
Better him than us.
At that thought, Carter opens the door and chilled but fresh air meets us. Jase is behind us and the window he opens creaks before he follows us out.