Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
My brows rose at that, but I didn’t comment as I pushed through the exit and headed for my truck.
The woman headed to a brand spanking new Cadillac Escalade, causing me to rethink my career choice.
Maybe I should’ve been a fighter like her husband.
Except, I wasn’t really into rules and regulations. I worked out, lifted weights, and stayed in shape.
If it ever came down to it, I would just pull my concealed handgun out and shoot, totally bypassing all that fighting bullshit.
I was all about survival, not fighting to fight.
Although, before Fatbaby, one of the firefighters who’d been injured about a year ago, had become a firefighter, he’d been a boxer.
He’d been a damn good boxer, too.
But his calling had been firefighting.
Firefighting that he could no longer do because of his movement restrictions.
He was, for all intents and purposes, at full health.
The burns he had received restricted his movement, causing him to fail his return-to-work physical. And the part he failed was a stupid stipulation put in by the dickhead mayor.
You had to be able to turn your head fully to the left, and fully to the right.
Fatbaby was able to get about sixty degrees one way, and ninety the other.
Meaning he couldn’t pass the stupid physical, even though his entire body was well enough for him to pass the rest of the physical.
Something we’d just been informed of today by the chief.
When we asked him to appeal the stipulation, he’d explained that he was. It just took time.
And in the meantime, Fatbaby was without a job, and looking to transfer to a different department a few states away.
The man was full of surprises, though.
When he’d come to take his things, which we’d been storing in the storage closet for the last year, he’d been riding a motorcycle.
Which was a big change from the old classic cars he used to drive around in.
It was like he was a completely different person—in looks and personality.
“Dadada,” Elise babbled, pulling me out of my thoughts. “ReeRee!”
I grinned at her.
“I got your drink, baby.” I reached to the bag that I’d picked up from the store, pulled out a bottle of orange juice, and immediately filled up the spare cup Angie and I kept in the car for these situations.
She immediately started sucking it down, and I closed the door and walked around the side of the truck, only to come to a halt when my phone rang again.
Once I had it pulled from my pocket, I answered it and pressed it against my ear.
“Hello?” I reached for the door handle and had started inside when Luke’s first words stunned me so badly I could barely function.
“I found the connection,” Luke supplied the moment I answered.
I knew instantly he was talking about Troy.
“Well, what is it?” I asked, idly reaching under the seat and making sure my sidearm was still where I’d left it.
I tried not to wear it around with me when I was going to pick up Elise.
Although I wore it concealed, it was still obvious what it was. My clothes didn’t conceal it anywhere near as much as I would have liked, and I hadn’t found a comfortable way to wear it yet. Unlike Booth and the others, I couldn’t wear it on my ankles. It tended to chafe, and I ended up in a lot of freakin’ pain at the end of the day.
So I wore it at the small of my back.
However, after being on duty today—a situation where I wasn’t allowed to wear it—and then coming straight here, I hadn’t yet taken it out from under my truck seat.
Which saved my fucking life.
“Apparently, he has an extensive list of people he’s been able to manipulate by, A: blackmailing them into doing what he wants them to, or B: by beating the ever-loving shit out of them and their family members. He has two men that he blackmailed that are state officials. One works with the state attorney general’s office, and the other is one of the governor’s top aides. His file is in the black, meaning we can’t access it.”
That sounded shitty.
I got inside the truck, bringing the gun with me to place it in my lap, and stared blankly at my lap while I let my foot rest against the open door.
“Troy uses his family’s money to pay off anyone he needs to, and if that doesn’t work, he puts the heat on their asses or their family members,” Luke continued. “As of eight minutes ago, he was officially out on bond,” Luke growled in frustration. “He’s wanted for over eighteen charges, terroristic threats being one of them, and he was somehow let go. I’m not sure how the fuck that even works, but since it’s the county and not me, I have no fuckin’ control over it,” he growled in frustration. “I called you as soon as I knew.”