Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “Gun was pointed at my head,” I replied.
He let out a sigh and looked back at the road.
Thatcher stretched in his seat, then turned his head toward King. “Heard our murderous little songbird asked for a fake identity. She needs birth certificate, Social, school records, all kinds of shit.”
What the fuck? I leaned forward and noticed King stiffen.
“Briar Landry is asking for this? Who did she ask?” King demanded.
“She talked to Abe’s sister. Seems the sister called her brother in for a favor, and Abe contacted Walsh, who went to Blaise. Boss called Wilder today with the order.”
“Blaise told him to do this?” King asked, sounded pissed.
“Yep.”
“I knew she was fucking lying!” he roared, hitting the steering wheel.
“Easy,” Thatcher said with a chuckle. “It’s not for her. It’s for some teenager. Briar can’t fucking pass for a fifteen-year-old kid, no matter what paperwork she has. She’s helping someone, it would seem.”
The teenage girl that had been in her car? What the fuck was Briar up to? Had she kidnapped someone? Would she do that?
“You’re quiet back there,” Thatcher said. “Thought you’d be interested in this little turn of events.”
I leaned back as my mind ran through every scenario I could. None of them looking good. “Why is Blaise helping a criminal?” I finally asked.
Thatcher turned to look back at me with a smirk twisting his lips. “Criminal? You’re mighty judgmental. Fucking men over for money isn’t a crime. It’s brilliant.”
“If this isn’t about Roger Ball, it doesn’t affect me,” King finally said. “But I want to know who the identity is for. If it’s connected to him, it could lead to him.”
“If he’s alive,” Thatcher added.
“Yeah, that,” King muttered.
“I’d bet my left nut he’s dead, and the songbird killed him, just like she said,” Thatcher said. “Regardless, Wilder couldn’t give us details. He isn’t authorized. He said he was just relaying the message and King could do with it what he wanted.”
“Why didn’t he call me, and why are you just now telling me?” King snapped.
Thatcher rolled down the window as he lit up a cigarette. “Because he didn’t trust you not to go running to Miami, and I knew we had a job to handle tonight. So, I waited.” He took a long draw, then glanced back at King. “Now, you know. Go south if you must, but it’s a waste of fucking time.”
King sighed heavily. “Cosette has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. The last time they had to give her shots, Rumor cried more than Cosi. I have to be there. Besides, if what’s her name, Melissa or whatever, runs, I’ll know. The tracker is on her car.”
“Briar,” I corrected before I could stop myself.
Hearing him call her Melissa annoyed me. Sure, she’d been born with the name, but she’d escaped that life and tried to wipe it clean. Least he could do was respect her name change.
King looked up at me in the rearview mirror again. “Whatever. Does it matter what I call her?”
“Oh, to him it most certainly does,” Thatcher replied with his cigarette clamped between his teeth.
“You got a thing for her?” King asked.
“No,” I said firmly.
“He just wants to fuck the hell out of her,” Thatcher added. “But then so do I. I’m just not moody as fuck about it.”
My hands fisted at the thought of Thatcher touching her.
King rolled his eyes and looked back at the road. He reached for the radio and turned the music up.
I had some time. While King was dealing with his baby girl and wife, I could make a little visit to Miami first. What I was going to do when I got there, I wasn’t sure, but I needed to find out what she was up to. I wished I could forget Briar but if she was about to get herself into trouble, I … I just needed to know what kind of trouble and why. Maybe then I could let it fucking go.
I’d fought going back for over a week now, and it was getting more difficult. There was a real good chance she’d pull her pistol out the moment she set eyes on me. I was prepared for her to hate me. I’d asked for it with the way I treated her last time. That had been more for my benefit than hers, and at the time, I’d thought her ego could take it. But the hurt look in her eyes was still replaying in my head. Damn if it wasn’t fucking me up. I didn’t want to give a shit about her, but Thatcher was right. I did want to fuck her. I knew if I did, it wouldn’t fix anything. That wasn’t the kind of woman you got out of your system. She was the kind that took your soul.
• Seventeen •
“Wasting your time. She requires deeper pockets.”