Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I know I’m removed from the situation, but I can’t imagine the firestorm that will occur when these women find out about each other.
The dossier I was provided to start my research on Mr. Theold questioned his loyalty to the Bureau and suggested he was taking bribes. I have several other programs running to dig deeper, but this isn’t FBI related. Although they may have a morality cause, in which case, he’s in big trouble.
Even as shitty as this guy is, if I don’t find anything related to what Mr. Jones is looking for, I don’t know if this is something I should hand over to him. I mean, if I don’t find anything professional related, it’s not going to stop me from setting this man’s world on fire because no one deserves to be swindled like these two women, but that doesn’t mean Mr. Jones is privileged to what I’ve found. He does have three children to take care of after all.
“What the what?”
My head snaps back when I check dates. The wife, a beautiful woman named Amanda, was actually the second relationship. He was in a domestic partnership with the equally gorgeous Rebecca for two years before anything with Amanda started tracking. Amanda got the ring, whereas Rebecca was stuck with some shoddy-ass common law label?
I can’t even make this shit up even though it’s reading like some damn twisted novel.
“Oh no,” I whisper when I delve into their social media. “Make that five kids.”
You guessed it, both women are currently pregnant.
“Disgusting.”
I shove the drawer holding my keyboard closed and stand from my desk. I’ve dealt with some horrible stuff. Honestly, stuff worse than this—there are a lot of predators online.
This man. God, a man that’s supposed to be a beacon of integrity. Right now, he’s just trash, but so help me if I find one slipup, one unpaid parking ticket, one crumb of a crime, I’m going to personally make sure his head rolls.
“Men are trash,” I tell Simon as I scratch behind his ear, pausing on my way to the kitchen for a snack.
He purrs. As always, my little faithful companion rolls over on his back, instigating tummy rubs.
“Are male kitties just as bad?”
He gives me a tiny meow, instruction to keep rubbing his belly as his eyes grow soft and squinty.
“I know they are.” My voice is soft and comforting. “But we don’t talk about the way you acted before I took you to the doctor, do we?”
His purring falters, but my fingers must feel good because he doesn’t pounce off the couch and hide under the coffee table like he did for weeks after I had him neutered. He hated me, but it was the responsible thing to do. Also, I was exhausted from him scratching on the window and bellowing like a lady cat was nearby and I was stopping him from a little midnight visit.
Standing in the kitchen, I drink a bottle of cold water until I drain it dry and nibble on a granola bar until l feel calm enough not to send Rebecca a link to Amanda’s social media and vice versa.
When I sit back down at my computer, I log the data that I’ve mined and start up a couple more programs. Now that I’ve found the connections to these two women, I can easily branch out and see where those limbs take me.
I log off, continuing to ignore the messages sent by Wasp because honestly, I don’t know if I can control my attitude tonight, and it’s not Wasp’s fault that William Theold is scum.
I fall into bed with Wasp’s husky voice in my ear as the man on the elevator watches me, biting his lip and asking me out for coffee.
Chapter 9
Wren
“She’s agitated,” I grumble.
Even from the shitty camera angle in the gym, I can tell Whitney is frustrated more than usual. I’ve discovered she hates working out, even though she does it daily. This is her second workout today; the first time she’s doubled up since her box was handed over to me.
Something is bothering her, and as much as I want to comfort her, I can’t hint at knowing she’s in a foul mood.
“She’s hot!” Puffy squawks, and all I can do is nod in agreement.
“Anna’s gonna smash!”
I snap my head in his direction.
“Let Deacon hear you mention her name,” I warn.
Then I turn my head back around and notice movement on the parking garage cameras.
“Oh… OH!”
Another camera angle reveals that Flynn is heading down in the elevator, so I fire off a text to him after darkening the screen for the parking garage.
Me: Tell Deacon that I’m going to put the video footage of him and Anna on the BBS website if they take things any further and label it “Special Attention from the Owner.”