Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
That’s your guy, Nexxor wrote.
I don’t want to guess how many energy drinks went into finding this bastard so quickly, but the money Braken placed on the boat will buy decades’ worth.
It was hilariously easy for Jasper to convince him to come see Braken, who then asked Merrick and me to join him. All Jasper had to do was walk into the grocery store where he works as a cashier, buy a bag of pretzels, and slip an extra fifty in with the total. The offer of more money for easy work could entice even the biggest skeptic, especially when they’re flashed a wad of hundreds. James willingly finished his morning shift, slipped into the back of Jasper’s car, and walked right into what could be his death sentence.
This is why Braken asked me to help him with this task. This is what I used to do. I got information for the Godwins at whatever cost. I was damn good at it.
Too good.
Although I’ve retired from the Godwin empire, and my focus is now only on The Vault, there is still nothing I won’t do for the people I care for. And since I can count the number of people on one hand, it also means I’ll go to whatever extreme to help.
I don’t want Merrick here, however, but he insisted. I could have spent all morning fighting about it and most likely lost the battle anyway, or I can accept that Merrick is now a part of me, and part of what I do. Good or bad.
This is a fact I haven’t truly come to terms with or even understand. One thing I do know is the man isn’t going anywhere. His loyalty is undying.
The little patch of land near the lighthouse has been in my possession for years now. I originally bought it to build rental cabins, but it’s much better as a place for other kinds of business. There are no cameras, no prying eyes, and thanks to the dense forest, basically no cell reception. Once an old cannery, the structure still standing provides the perfect shelter from whatever… storm I bring here. It’s the perfect place to make people disappear.
Unfortunately for James Allen Porter, he might be the next to go.
We step into the abandoned cannery business and make our way down the two flights of steps toward the decaying boiler room. It smells like damp mildew and rusted iron from the old machines and the lingering smell of blood. The only thing that still works in this heap of broken glass and rubble is the HVAC system. It’s older than me and barely functional, which means it’s loud and perfect to mask the screams.
The man of the hour is already chained up to a thick pipe attached to the ceiling, half-slumped over against the HVAC base. Blood drips from a cut on his forehead down his haggard face, and several cigarette burns are vivid on the inside of his arms. Back in the day, since I’ve worked with Jasper. The man is… vicious. That’s Jasper’s favorite place to put them. More sensitive, he says.
I say do whatever gets the job done, and based on James’s broken expression, he’s about there.
“Nice of you to join us.” I crouch low enough so James can look me in the eye. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”
Merrick and Braken stand off to the side. I don’t want to see their faces when I do this. And frankly, I don’t want them to see mine.
When James spits at my shoes, it’s full of blood. “Asshole. Let me out of here!”
I take a handkerchief out of my front pocket and wipe the tops of my leather shoes. “I suppose you’re not ready to talk yet. Jasper.”
Wordlessly, Braken’s bodyguard steps forward and grabs hold of James’s chin. The man struggles and tries to bite at the bodyguard, but he’s done this plenty of times and knows how to keep wild animals in check. Because that’s what men on the verge of death always become: wild animals that lash out when they think there’s a way out and whimper when cornered.
I take a seat in a fully rusted chair and watch as Jasper pulls out a pair of pliers from his pocket.
“Stop! Stop, please stop!” The pleading is desperate; the man will crack without us having to go any further. The piss running down his leg tells me as much.
I raise my hand to get Jasper to stop.
“Are you ready to talk?”
“Please, I don’t have the money, but I can get it, I can get whatever you need, I just need time, you see, I got this hookup—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. “Do I look like a street dealer? Jasper.”
“No, wait—”
James’s scream is hoarse and broken up with his angry sobs.
“What do you want?” he cries, blue eyes bloodshot with tears and tan face covered in blood.