My Heart Still Beats Read Online Helen Hardt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
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“I’m afraid you’re on your own,” I say. “Like I said, Betsy and I are having breakfast.”

He eyes my empty plate where my fruit was. Then he stands and looks into my coffee cup, also finding it empty. “Looks like you’re done with breakfast.”

I gesture to Betsy’s full plate and cup of coffee. “She’s not.”

“Her coffee is going to be cold by the time she gets back.”

“Maybe.” I wave to Betsy and Manfred. “But here they come.”

“Thanks for the walk, Manfred,” Betsy says.

Ben stands and offers Betsy her lounger back.

“Hi, Ben,” she says.

“Betsy. Manfred.”

“Good morning, Mr. Black. Can I get you anything?”

“Absolutely. A cup of your strongest black coffee, some scrambled eggs, bacon, and ackee and salt fish.”

“Coming right up.”

“Bring it in about twenty minutes,” he says. “Ms. Logan and I will be back by then.”

Betsy takes her plate of fruit and brings a slice of watermelon to her mouth. “Are you two going somewhere?”

“We are,” Ben says. “We’re going to go take a cold plunge.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ben

Fifteen years earlier…

“You’re just the kind of guy we need, Black,” Dirk says.

“You think, huh?”

“You’ve got brains and brawn. We need some brains.”

“What the fuck for?”

“We’re going to rob the convenience store,” he says, “and you’re going to help us.”

I take another drag off my cigarette. “Yeah? Good luck with that.”

“We don’t need luck. Didn’t I just say you were going to help us?”

I throw my butt down on the asphalt, stamp it out with the bottom of my steel-toed boot. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Dirk takes a step toward me. “You’re in now. Because you know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I could kick your ass,” Dirk says.

“You and what army?”

I’ve got five inches on him in height, and I’m just as muscled as he is. Of course, he’s got Carlos and Jerry.

“Hey, man, I’m just thinking of you. I see that shack you live in with your father and brother. Everybody knows how hard you work. Wouldn’t you like a little something for nothing for once in your life?”

My father’s not the greatest father in the world, but he’s no thief. He’d hate me even talking about something like this.

But damn…

It would sure be nice to have some extra money once in a while.

Stealing is wrong. I sure as hell know that.

So why the fuck am I actually considering this?

These three are losers. The kind who cut school half the time and smoke weed in the bathrooms the other half.

“So are you in, Black?” Jerry asks.

“No.”

“You sure about that?” From Dirk.

It’s not a threat. I could kick Dirk into next week, and we both know it. It’s a simple question, one he expects me to contemplate.

So I do.

I clear my throat. “What are the details?”

“One a.m. tomorrow night. The place is open twenty-four-seven, but there’s very little traffic that late on a weeknight. The guys and I have been staking the place. Between one and two is the best time.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I would think between two and four would be better.”

“Yeah, you’d think, but the truckers tend to come through around then.”

I nod. I have no reason not to believe Dirk. He’s been staking the place, and I haven’t.

What I’m more concerned about is how the hell I’m supposed to be up at one in the morning. I’m so fucking tired after a day at school and then working that when I get home, I hit the sheets and don’t think about a damned thing until my alarm rings at six.

And I start the whole process over again.

Get up, grab a bite, hit school, do homework during lunch, get home, grab a bite, hit the construction site, get home, grab a bite, hit the hay.

That’s my damned life.

Granted, I’m sick to death of it, but these guys aren’t thinking big enough. How much cash is there in a damned convenience store? A convenience store that probably has a security system in place because it’s open twenty-four-fucking-seven?

These guys were never known for their smarts.

After all, they said they needed my brains.

“What if we change the plan a little?” I say.

“How so?” Dirk asks.

“How much money do you think they keep in the store?”

“About a grand,” Carlos says. “My cousin works there during the day. He says they keep a thousand in the safe in addition to what’s in the cash register at any given time.”

“Yeah, a thousand dollars is more than any of us have ever seen,” I agree, “but that’s only two fifty each after we divide it. Is it really worth it? I mean, what is two fifty going to buy us? A week of groceries?”

“Or some good weed,” Jerry says.

“Fuck no. If I help with this, not one of you is going to spend this money on drugs.”

“I don’t see how it’s any business of yours of what we spend it on, Black,” Dirk says.



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