Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Good to see you guys. Huge fans,” Derrick calls after us. “Hey, Ammo, you play golf?” I hold up my hand but don’t answer him because something doesn’t feel right.
“Hey?” I demand at the younger security guard. “Did you do a sweep of the house and entire property?”
“Yes, sir, we did the house. Dan is still working on the rest of the property. The power went out around a half hour ago.” He smiles and I look at him like he’s lost his mind because this is not a smiling matter. This is a giant fuck up, and someone should have notified Courtney immediately.
“How many men are here at all times?” I demand.
“Um, usually two.” He looks at Courtney as if she can help him.
But she can’t as I pull out my phone, saying over my shoulder, “Send your boss in after you’ve secured the property.” Already pushing on Ace’s number as we walk into the house, I think to myself, two my ass, there should be at least four to five.
“The hell, Ammo? Granger saw you walk out—” Ace’s deep voice is being drowned out by the sounds of the party.
“Look, I was either gonna put my fist in Axel’s or Jett Powers’s face, so be glad we left. I’m texting you Courtney’s address; I want you as head of her security full time, and get a reliable team together,” I hiss into the phone as we enter the house.
“What are you talking about? Did you take this up with Granger or Rafe?” Ace must have moved outside since the sound of the party has faded.
“Granger’s fine, Ace. Courtney has a stalker situation, and her security is shit…get over here.”
“Christ. How bad?” he grumbles.
“Pretty fucking bad. We just spent ten minutes waiting for them to figure out how to get the gate working again. I’m not joking, her neighbors came over to take selfies, this is unacceptable.”
“I’ll get on it, and just so you know, you’re paying me double. I’ll start my team with six men.”
“Whatever you need, but I want you here with her,” I state.
“Understood.” The line goes dead as I look down at her. Somehow, some way, she’s become more. A violent, uncontrollable need. I want all of her, her trust, pain, pleasure, her laughter, and her tears…all of it.
“What are you doing?” Courtney’s voice is slightly breathless.
“I’m firing your incompetent security and bringing in someone I can trust,” I state, her house is eerily quiet. The dresses are still here, but they’re lined up on a garment rack waiting for someone to pick them up.
“Why?” she hisses as her nails dig into my hand.
“Baby, if I had my way, I’d fire your entire payroll besides Malcolm.” My eyes scan each of the rooms as we pass.
Empty glasses of champagne are littered on her large table, along with what looks like a box of pastries.
“What’s your assistant’s name again?” I walk us into her kitchen, going over to her liquor cabinet.
“Gina.” She sighs as she looks around at the mess. Bottles of half-empty Cristal are on the marble counter along with a stack of plates. I grab a bottle of Japanese whiskey as Courtney goes over to her island where a black-lacquered box sits and raises her hand. “She used to be amazing, but lately—”
“Courtney, don’t touch that—” I snap, and it’s like everything is moving in slow motion as she flips the top off.
“Ammo!” she screams as she steps back into my arms.
“The fuck?” I hold her as I look inside the box. It’s like the world has suddenly stopped, and all sounds but Courtney’s terrified breathing is all I can hear.
“Security!” I yell, my arm tightening around Courtney as I dial 911.
COURTNEY
“Here, drink this.” Ammo hands me a glass full of whiskey as my eyes dart around my kitchen that’s now crawling with police and detectives. I think the bomb squad has finally left, so that’s at least a positive as I bring the glass to my lips.
“Okay.” Detective Kirby hangs up his phone and walks over to me and Ammo.
“I just got the call from forensic. The book is clean, no prints, no powder, whoever left it was wearing gloves. I’d like to go over the highlighted quotes, but it seems pretty clear that the suspect is unhappy with you and Mr. Adams,” the detective states as my eyes follow a team dusting my house for prints.
“As for Mike Zane, he’s been checking in regularly for his parole, and has gotten a job at a grocery store. I can’t give out his whereabouts, but he is not near here.
“That means nothing,” Ammo snaps, his hand stroking my hair.
“Agreed. It has to be him because this is how he started last time, right?” Rachel lights up a cigarette, her eyes fierce. See, everyone complains she’s a bitch, and she might be, but she was the first one to show up as soon as Ammo called.