Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I don’t give two shits what he’s using them for; all I care about is the money. This deal alone will gross me twenty million.
In my office on the main deck, I pick up the phone and dial Cristian’s extension. He answers on the first ring. “Be ready to leave at eleven,” I order before he can speak.
“Yes, Boss,” he replies, and I hang up. There isn’t much else to say. My men know the drill. They accompany me everywhere—a night out clubbing on a tropical island included.
Cristian is my right-hand man and my head of security. I don’t mix business and pleasure with my staff, so these men are not my friends. I run a tight ship and have no attachments to anyone. It makes life a hell of a lot easier.
The only person I ever truly cared about is dead. It was my fault, and I won’t make that mistake again. If I don’t care, then everyone is dispensable.
Standing from my desk, I head to my master stateroom in the front of my boat. Once inside, I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower.
My yacht is my home. Although I own a few residences scattered around the world, I rarely stay in any of them.
I stay in the Caribbean during winter and spring, and I usually spend the summer in Europe. But this year, because of business, I never made the transatlantic crossing, which is fine. I like how empty the islands are right now.
Every once in a while, I stay put. In my business, it’s better not to be in one place too long.
Where most people have storage in the bottom of the boat, I keep my smaller shipment of guns that still need to be transported. My boat is large enough. At over one hundred and seventy feet, it’s large enough for all my needs but still small enough to float under the radar. Pun intended.
I finish showering and head to the main salon. My men are standing in all-black suits, wearing their earpieces, ready to go. It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the club.
And once I get there, Mathis has a beautiful woman waiting for us. My friend isn't in town. Apparently, he’s in the South of France somewhere, St. Tropez probably, but he knows how to make a guy feel special. When the beauty in the red dress shows me to my table set up high above the club in the roped-off section of the VIP lounge, half-naked women are already dancing nearby.
There’s no need even to order, as the table has already been prepared to my liking. Vodka, tequila, scotch, and champagne—something for anyone who comes by with guests.
The first person to arrive is Xavier.
“What can I get you?” I ask.
“Vodka,” he answers, and I nod to the waitress who goes about pouring us both drinks.
“How many?” I know the number we agreed upon during our earlier phone calls, but things change, so it’s always smart to double-check.
“Fifteen thousand,” he confirms. Maybe not enough for a war, but I wouldn’t put it past him to be getting guns from my competition too.
Not for long, though. If all goes as planned, Lawrence will be as good as dead by month’s end. Now just to find the right bait to lure him into my trap.
Lifting my glass, I take a swig, shutting down all thoughts of revenge so I can deal with the matters at hand, the reason I’m here at this club to begin with. “When?”
“End of the month.”
“Location?”
“Same as before.”
Good. I know the area. Lawrence also keeps some of his gun shipments there, which means Xavier is double-dipping. He knows Michael will probably not come through, not after the last smaller shipment I lifted from him, but it appears my buddy over here is giving him one more chance to right his wrongs.
I can feel the smile growing on my face. I’ll steal that shipment too, and in turn, after I ruin him, I’ll make Michael Lawrence beg.
“It will be the same price as before.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
I wish he wouldn’t call me that. He’s no friend of mine. He’s a client, plain and simple, but worse, he’s not a very loyal one. But that’s okay. He doesn’t even realize he’s just a pawn in my game.
“Anything else?” I ask. He shakes his head at my question. “Then let’s drink.”
“And get laid.” He laughs. They are all the same—every damn one of them. As much as I would love to do that, looking around the room, I have yet to see anyone who catches my attention. They all scream desperate the way they seductively shake their bodies for me to appreciate. I lift my drink and allow my gaze to skate across the vastness in front of me. In typical Mathis form, he designed this club for decadence and sin. Most of the space is modern. Cold and sterile, with a metal ceiling and metal bars. But it’s the VIP room where I am that really stands out.