Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Four years ago, he had a paid television show that was very popular. He’s known for his fire-and-brimstone sermons on repentance and good works, but his show was shut down during the allegations of sexual abuse.”
“Does he have any known phobias?” I ask.
Violet tips her head to the side. I’m not going to walk in and bloody the old man up, but I’ll have to get answers, and something tells me he won’t make it easy.
“None obvious, but perhaps… water, sir. He had a pool in his backyard he had filled in a few years back, and all his vacations are on land.”
It’s not much, but it’s something to go on.
“Does he have any ties with any known criminals?”
“No, sir, he—no. Wait just a minute.” He’s silent for a moment. “Four years ago… just around the same time his television show was cancelled, there was a threat to his life. Rumors of ‘organized crime’ made the press, but no names and no details.”
“Of course,” Violet says. “No news press is going to name a mafia group, would they.” She curses under her breath again and pulls her knife out. I watch as she runs her finger along the sharp edge of the blade. Thinking.
“We’re here.” At least, we’re in the neighborhood. GPS puts us at the foot of a hill. At the top of the hill stands a wrought iron gate and an intercom.
“Stand by, Henri. May need you to work a lock remotely.”
“Yessir.”
“Cain, is it wise to just go in the front gate like this? Won’t he be waiting for us?”
“I want him waiting.”
She shifts on her seat and squeezes my hand in silent approval. I lift her fingers to my mouth and kiss them.
I press the button on the intercom, and a man’s voice answers immediately. “May I help you?”
“We’re here to see Gray Descamps, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Violet rolls her eyes and chimes in. “It’s about the salvation of my soul. Are such appointments necessary?”
The intercom is quiet for a moment, and I shake my head at her. The woman’s fucking unpredictable.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to make an appointment. Mr. Descamps is unavailable for the next four weeks. You can find his assistant’s email listed on his website.”
Apparently, saving someone’s soul can wait a month when you’re sitting on property worth millions. I want at this motherfucker.
“Please tell him it’s urgent,” Violet says from the passenger seat. Her tone is also urgent , with an edge I know all too well. Violet’s about to lose her temper.
I reach my hand to her thigh and give her a gentle squeeze, a reminder that keeping our tempers will work better than coming in guns blazing. She narrows her eyes at me. She doesn’t like those reminders.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to make an appointment on the website. Have a good day.”
There’s the sound of a click, the lock securing. Pretty much what I expected. There’s a long, curving driveway. Uniformed guards make their presence known.
“Count them,” I say in a low whisper to Violet.
She nods as I back out of the driveway.
We drive along the main road, but we aren’t leaving this property until we get what we came for.
“Take a right,” she says quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pull out her gun and shine the handle on her shirt.
“Not sure we’ll need that.”
“Shame.”
Violet’s a fucking good shot, and I know she wants an opportunity to use her skills and her new toy.
“An elderly minister has to be approached a certain way.”
She sighs. “I know. So I don’t get to see you beat anyone up today.”
I can’t help but smile, because I know she’s only half-joking. Every goddamn time I train with one of my men, she’s practically dragging me to bed afterward. It’s part of how she’s wired, and I love her for it.
“Nope. The way to get to someone like him is to really, truly determine what he’s afraid of. We need to know what he fears most so we can make him tell us the truth.”
“Perhaps he’s afraid of heights,” she says in a bored tone before she makes a sound of disgust. “So plebeian.”
“Or spiders.”
She rolls her eyes. “Cliché.”
“Or maybe….” her voice trails off as she taps her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s think about this. What would a wealthy man who preaches from the Bible fear above all else?”
“Slander to his reputation. Losing all his money.”
“Precisely. Oh, Cain! There!” She points to a rusty gate that leads to the back of Descamps’s property. I pull the truck over to the side of the road, leaves crunching beneath the heavy tires.
“Perfect. Good eye, baby.”
In minutes, she’s disassembled the lock. She faces me with a look of triumph. “Ready?”
Before we go, I reach down and loop my fingers along the nape of her neck, pull her head back, and capture her mouth with mine. “I’m ready, baby. Let’s do it.”