Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
That’s when I knew that I was done.
I couldn’t do this job anymore.
I didn’t fucking like getting to the point where I hated this job, but that was where I was at.
Though, I’d finish out this case first.
“Whatever you say, boss,” I said carefully.
Hopefully neutrally.
John’s snort had me realizing that I hadn’t quite accomplished it.
The fact that I thought he was a dumbass likely came through my voice.
Daniels shot me a look, but he didn’t say anything, because he and I both knew he needed me.
Maybe my earlier thought of him being a good guy wasn’t very warranted.
Or maybe his hands were tied.
Whatever the reason, I didn’t like this, and I no longer trusted my boss.
“The judge approved around-the-clock surveillance on her place,” he said. “He also approved wiretaps and cell phone records. I want to know everything there is to know about this woman.”
Of course he did.
“Anyone find out where she lives yet?” Daniels asked the group.
“Actually, yeah,” John said, shooting me an apologetic glance. “She lives in the apartment next door to Haze.”
“Then we’ll set up surveillance at your place,” he said, eyes happy as fuck.
I narrowed my eyes. “Then you’ll pay my rent until we get this case solved.”
“Done,” he exclaimed, though he didn’t sound happy about it.
But it did work out for me, because I didn’t like the idea of anyone else having that close of an eye on her but me.
“You’ll let me and John handle it, because there’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone else into my apartment when I’m not there,” I added.
I could see that he wanted to argue, but all of them knew that I was a private guy.
None of them had been to my apartment, and I really didn’t want to change that now.
“That’s fine, as long as you share whatever you find relevant with us,” he agreed. “I want her followed everywhere. I have a few cops that I was considering pulling up into the detective ranks anyway, so we can get their feet wet by allowing them to play babysitter duty.”
“I want to know when she goes to her brother’s place. Her sisters. The coffee shop her sister owns needs to be under surveillance. Any place that she goes, pull all camera feeds if they’ll cooperate. I want to know what she buys. What she eats. I want it all,” he finished.
This wasn’t like Daniels.
He didn’t usually jump on a suspect like this.
It had to be the senator orchestrating all of this.
There was so little evidence that pointed to her it was a glaring, bright red beacon.
Yet, he was acting like it wasn’t.
Why?
I asked John that when they released us to “get to work.”
“This isn’t sitting well with me,” John muttered.
“Agreed,” I said. “There’s something more at play here. I want to find out what the fuck is going on, and I can’t do that if I’m playing twenty-four-seven babysitter.”
“I’ll set it up and forward it to our phones…” he said.
“My phone,” I suggested.
His eyes narrowed. “Why just yours?”
“Because you got a kid you’re trying to get access to,” I pointed out. “And I’m about to do something crazy.”
“You’re not playing by the rules?” he guessed.
John and I never had.
Never would.
We saw the world in multiple shades of black and white.
We knew there were certain circumstances that things—illegal things—needed to be done to make this world a better place.
And my hunch on this case was blasting me in the solar plexus every half a second, letting me know that I needed to look into it.
The ways I’d have to look into it were going to be questionable…
This body came with a lot of terms and conditions I didn’t agree to.
—Nastya to Milena
NASTYA
“I’m not sure that getting a shelter dog as part of a mystery shopping experience is a good idea.”
I looked over at my sister and said, “Listen. It’s more of a ‘I want to see how my staff treats you’ kind of thing. Not as a ‘you should always get something for free’ kind of thing.”
“But a dog? You live in an apartment,” Milena pointed out.
“I make my own hours, and I have plenty of time to take the dog out and play. I live half a block from a dog park. It’s seriously going to work out just fine, I promise.”
“I know, but it’s a dog. That’s a big commitment. There are vet bills, dog food, toys. Are you seriously going to do this?” she asked.
Milena wasn’t a dog person.
In fact, she wasn’t an animal person at all.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like animals, she did. She just didn’t like the thought of something needing her to remain alive. Milena was a free spirit. She liked to fly by the seat of her pants, leave when she wanted to leave, go hiking in the mountains. She couldn’t do any of that with a dog—or even a man—to tie her down.