Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Jasper.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m leavin’ service a little early this mornin’ to see what’s going on with some land I was trying to purchase. Seems there’s a competitor gettin’ in the way. I need to have words with him. See if we can come to an agreement.”
“Okay, I can be at the church in—”
“No, no. I need you to stay at the house. Send three of the guys to meet me out at The Big Thicket National Preserve. Tell ’em to not ask any questions or blow up my phone. I don’t want him to get paranoid. Then meet me at the start of the Elk Trail. I just want backup in case negotiations don’t go smoothly.”
“Got it.”
Roman disconnected the call, stood to his feet, and placed his hands on his hips. He enjoyed imitating his grandfather and had done so many times behind the old buzzard’s back since he was a kid. Daddy laughed like a loon when he’d first imitated him many years ago and told him he sounded just like him. That was all the encouragement he needed. A badge of honor. This had been rather easy to pull off, seeing as how he was able to spoof Grandpa’s number on the untraceable number with no issue whatsoever. He surveyed the land around him, then began to set up shop. After he placed the equipment, speakers and whatnot where he needed them, he disrobed. Once he was in his underwear, he pulled out his Marine Corps Combat Utility Uniform (MCCUU) from his bag that he’d worn during training a long time ago.
Time for war…
Grabbing two serrated hunting knives, a Glock 19M, and a 12 gauge shotgun, along with a shitload of artillery, he headed to the tree of life and death. Birth-marked by lightning. He patted the side where the bolt had struck, leaned in, and kissed it.
“You remember me, old buddy? I’m back once again.”
Covering the carrier with brush, grass and twigs, he settled behind the tree that he’d known since he was a child. They sat together, like old friends. Another game of waiting. Another game of Hide and Seek. Only this time, he was neither running nor lost. He knew exactly where he was and what he wanted, and he was standing tall, like the tree…
Grandpa read a strange text from Roman.
The boy wasn’t right in the head. But he’d checked his account again that morning and smiled at the money growing interest in record time. Roman was also a financial wizard. A miracle worker. No way could that sort of skill go unnoticed and not be put to good use. He read the text again:
Contract in hand. Meet me at the Promise Land. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and some can’t see the forest for the trees—The Book of Black Sheep. Romans 17th chapter. 21st verse.
Grandpa didn’t bother writing back, figuring it was a set up to get into some verbal sparring match, or for Roman to find a slick way to regain his lost power. Stupid riddles. Stupid games. Roman was a bit of a sore loser, and competitive to his twisted, foolish core… He smirked as he recalled his grandson as a teenager, throwin’ a fit after losing a basketball game in high school.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of a response. He’s trying to play head games, like the mind fucker that he is. Slick weasel. Not taking the bait.
With a sigh, he placed his golf club down, took a seat near their clubhouse, and cracked open an ice cold bottle of seltzer water. It had been at least four months since he’d last gone golfing, but it felt good to return to something he enjoyed after a hiatus, especially after church service. Reverend Avery had gone on a long-winded tangent, and he was rather tired after a night of tossing and turning.
In the distance, he spotted the detective approaching, who he’d invited to join him for a match. They’d start their game soon. Detective John Garrison shook his hand, then sat beside him, patting sweat from his brow as the sun stung their faces with a searing, heated kiss.
“It’s hot as Hades today, ’spose to cool down I thought,” Detective Garrison stated as he grabbed a bottle of water from the golf cart and opened it.
“Oh, it’s just how it is here in Houston. I’m used to it.” Grandpa glared at the sun, daring it to get a degree hotter. “Texas heat is a special kind, indeed.” No match for the heat between me and Tina. “How long you think she’s been gone?” He took a gulp of the refreshment.
“’Bout three weeks or so from what I gather. I have her family’s phones tapped, but no mention of her callin’. If they’re communicating, they must be using encrypted emails or snail mail.” The man took a hard gulp of his water and looked around as if he were waiting for someone. “They appeared to be telling the truth though. Didn’t seem to know where Tina was when I questioned them, and there’s been no obvious contact that I can gather.”