Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I study him, wondering what stories those broad shoulders carry, what horrors those dark eyes have seen. He keeps his gaze on the road, but his jaw is clenched. Clearly, he doesn’t share his past easily.
“That’s impressive,” I say.
“Maybe, but it takes its toll,” he admits. “Lost a lot of good men out there.”
The pain in his voice makes my heart ache. I reach out and lightly touch his arm. “I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He shakes his head, giving me a brief smile. “It’s all right. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken about it.”
We fall into silence again as the distance dwindles between Summer Creek and Austin. Despite the heaviness of our conversation, I feel a strange sense of camaraderie with Jared. His guarded demeanor and repressed sorrow echo my own pain, my own struggles, and the losses of friends I made during chemotherapy. It’s a bond born out of hardship that I never thought I’d experience with anyone else, let alone my bodyguard.
Upon reaching Austin, we arrive at Fox and Levinson. It’s on the eighteenth floor of a giant skyscraper. We walk in together, I clutching my bag filled with important documents, Jared with his alert gaze sweeping over everything and everyone around us.
The receptionist greets us with a bright smile. “May I help you?”
I give her a small wave. “We’re here to see Emily Bennett. I’m Raven Bellamy, and this is Jared. He’s my…associate.”
Minutes later, we are ushered into a spacious office overlooking the city. Emily Bennett is waiting for us, looking every bit as professional as I expected.
She stands a few feet from the floor-to-ceiling window. Her light blond hair is pulled back in a sleek bun, and she wears a white satiny blouse and sleek black pants.
She extends a hand to me. “Raven, it’s great to meet you.”
“You too,” I reply.
“And this is?” Emily asks as she turns toward Jared.
“My bodyguard, Jared.”
She nods and offers him a polite smile as they shake hands. She doesn’t seem the least bit freaked out that I travel with muscle. Interesting.
“Please sit.” Emily gestures toward the plush leather chairs across her desk.
Jared and I take a seat.
“So,” Emily begins, “let’s talk about your nonprofit.”
I clear my throat. “As you know, it will be dedicated to the research and treatment of blood cancers, with the objective of clinical trials and helping individuals who can’t afford treatment.”
“Excellent.” She nods. “I recommend a rigorous vetting process for prospective board members to ensure they share the same vision and dedication to the cause that you do.”
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“We need to delineate clear roles and responsibilities for everyone to minimize internal conflicts down the line.” She pauses a moment. “We’ll also need to determine our fundraising strategy. You said you have a gala planned, yes?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s just an introductory event, really. We’re hoping to get some initial pledges and establish connections with potential donors.”
“Good start.” She nods. “But one won’t be enough. We need to think about long-term funding opportunities—corporate sponsorships, grants, recurring donations.”
“Understood.” I jot all this down in my iPad.
“And what about your mission statement? That’s key to attracting both volunteers and donors.”
I nod again. I already crafted a mission statement, but Emily’s point made me reconsider. I had focused on the “what,” but maybe it was just as important to clearly state the “why” and “how.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll revise it.”
“Great.” Emily clears her throat. “And now, I have some excellent news for you.”
“Oh?” I lift the beginnings of my new eyebrows.
She smiles. “I received word a few minutes before you arrived that there’s a large cash donation waiting for you.” She pushes a piece of folded paper in front of me.
I wrinkle my forehead as I take the paper.
Then I gasp.
6
VINNIE
My conversation with Austin Bellamy haunts me. He’s a smart man, and he kept his answers to my questions succinct and sometimes evasive. I can’t blame him for that. I’d do the same thing. Hell, I do the same thing.
My stomach is churning with nerves. I could be barking up the wrong tree, of course. “Operation Falcon” could mean anything.
But there’s a reason I’m here. A reason Mario wants me here. Giacomo Puzo wasn’t a family head. Mario could have sent one of his surrogates here to negotiate with Agudelo.
The clock strikes eleven. Two hours until the lunch with Agudelo. Two more hours to prepare, to analyze, to plan.
Agudelo is clearly a man who likes to keep his cards close to his chest.
As one o’clock draws nearer, I take a moment to freshen up, wash away the grime of sleepless research, exhaustion, and worry. Today will be a game of chess, and I need to be at my best. I dress in a crisp black suit and then make my way down the grand staircase into the hall where Morehouse is waiting for me. Exactly at one, he escorts me into a large dining room filled with light filtering in from the arched windows. The table is set with gleaming china and silverware.