Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
About two blocks away from Bannon’s office, she spotted Archer’s decoy car. He gave her a little wave and she smiled at him as she sailed on by. He was about three cars behind her when her phone rang. Before she could say hello, he began to speak.
“I’m proud of you. You really are the shit.” And then, he hung up. That was it.
She tried to push back the emotions that almost drowned her. The poor animals, the door that wouldn’t open, the alarm that was almost set off, her about to get busted leaving the building. Her thighs still burned from the endurance contest she’d just been through. She leaned forward and turned on the radio. ‘Nuthin’ But a G Thang’ by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog was playing. She smiled, then burst out laughing. This had been one of her father’s favorite songs.
“Is this your way of tellin’ me that you’re proud of me as well, Daddy?! I LOVE YOU, TOO! I’m a rebel with a cause because of you, Mr. Brooks. Love you forever, Daddy… Thank you for still always being by my side!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The room was dark and smelled like lavender—the fragrance of the supplies the cleaning crew used in the man’s home. Archer waited patiently, dressed in a blue silk vest over a crisp white shirt, and black dress pants. It was a special occasion after all. A funeral in the making.
The front door to the lavish abode swung open and the big, bold motherfucker noticed his alarm was already off. Disarmed like an extinguished candle. He probably wondered if he’d forgotten to set it before he’d headed out that morning. Billy hurriedly turned on the light to get a closer look. When his back was towards him, Archer cleared his throat. Billy swiveled like a spinning top. Their eyes locked.
Archer was sitting on Billy’s large suede couch, legs crossed, sipping a shot of Whiskey from the man’s supply. His lips curled at the sight of the traitorous fucker standing there, his hand drawing closer to his gun that rested on his hip.
“Ah. Ah. Ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Billy boy.” Archer waved his finger at him. “I’ve got Rita on my right. Jessie on my left. A few of their family members have joined us, too, fully loaded like drunks on a Saturday night. They’ll turn you into a fuckin’ strawberry, all red and full of fucking holes, before you can say a one-word prayer. Amen.”
“What are you doin’ in my house?” Billy barked.
Archer set his drink down and leaned forward.
“Your house? The one I bought you?” He looked around the impressive estate, then rested his gaze back onto Billy. “This house… the house that without me, you wouldn’t have at all?”
“I’ve worked like a dog for you. I earned this house.”
“What you’ve earned, you two-faced, conniving, weaselly, snitchin’, fraudulent ass motherfucker is a bow right through the fucking heart. Now, you sit your ass down if you can.” He pointed in the direction of the loveseat across from him. “Probably even sold that to the highest bidder, too. Everything on you, near you, or a hundred miles from you is for sale, isn’t it?”
Billy’s expression changed to a mix of fear and uncertainty.
“Come on, now! Right across from me.” Archer waved Rita at him, a lovely Smith and Wesson known to have a hair trigger.
Billy made jerky, hesitant movements toward the man, until he got right in front of him.
“Now empty your damn pockets.”
Billy’s complexion deepened as he took out his wallet, slammed it on the table, then his gun.
“The knives, too.”
The man huffed and removed two knives from the inner pocket of his jacket, placing them onto the coffee table and pushing them closer to Archer.
“Guess what, Billy? I’m a psychic! Can you believe it?” He chuckled. “When I looked into my crystal ball, I found out what you’ve been up to. I’ve known since our last lil’ run-in, when you came to my house and tried to boss me around, like you were the supervisor of my life. The head motherfucker in charge. Okay, okay, let me be serious… my crystal ball actually was modern technology. I’m no Sylvia Brown, but I am a damn good judge of character. I didn’t go to sleep until I had things in a way that allowed me to watch you closely. After all, a person like you, who has done what you’ve done, can never—under any circumstances—be trusted.”
“What are you talkin’ about, Archer? I haven’t done anything.” The guy threw up his hands. “Just ’cause you and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye lately doesn’t mean—”
“You can hold it right there. I don’t want to hear any more lies, so let me help you stop in your tracks. Ya see, I’ve had a tracker on your Mercedes, your computer, and your cellphone for a mighty long time. In fact, my sister took care of it upon my request before she went to prison. Just in case. I had hoped I’d never need it. Hope and reality don’t always jive though, isn’t that true, Billy?”