Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Denny was already shaking his head, looking flustered.
“She said that I would never be caught,” he said as he started to get led to the door by the deputy that’d been standing to the side with me for the entire last half an hour. Information first. Duties second.
“I need to call my lawyer,” he grumbled darkly as he was shuffled out the door.
I was confused, because from what I could tell, his deputies had already made that call…
“You have one phone call,” I heard Sunny say. “You can make it when we get to the station. But your lawyer was already called…”
I would’ve followed right behind them, but before they could even make it to the car, black SUVs came from every which direction and converged on the house. People marked as FBI all but spilled from the vehicles, and soon, we were surrounded by gun-toting agents looking as if they were high on adrenaline.
I paused halfway between my car and Greer’s place.
“This is the FBI!” I heard the one in front yell. “Who’s in charge here?”
Sunny didn’t stop doing what he was doing until Denny was locked in the back of his police cruiser.
Only when he was done did he turn and introduce himself to the two who looked like they might be ‘in charge’ of the goons that were now surrounding the area.
“I am,” Sunny said, not offering his hand to either man or woman who were now standing there, looking silly. “What are y’all doing here?”
“We’ve received an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen,” the little prick FBI agent said. “My name is Special Agent Matt McCollum. This is my partner, Special Agent Abi Li.”
I could wrap my fingers around his neck and pop his head right off.
He looked like one of those goddamn bobbleheads that people put in their cars. His body was tiny, meanwhile, his head was the size of a football stadium.
His partner, an older Asian woman in her fifties or sixties, looked on as the “call me FBI Special Agent Matt McCollum and Special Agent only” spouted his bullshit. The partner didn’t say a word as the two men discussed what they were doing there.
“Your prisoner is my prisoner, so I’m going to be taking him,” McCollum said.
And don’t think that I didn’t miss the last name similarity between the two.
“You’re lying,” Sunny called them out. “This isn’t a federal case. This is a case that is local. No crossing state lines. No reason for you to be here.”
I could practically see the moment the agent decided to dig his heels in.
“My case,” McCollum disagreed. “The suspect has confessed to trafficking drugs across state lines. That’s where we come in.”
Sunny sighed. I could tell that he was not happy.
“How about we take this to the station and go from there,” Sunny suggested.
However, McCollum wasn’t interested in that.
He pointed at his agents that were just waiting to be told what to do, like good little pets. “You. Get your team and get into that house. I want everything in the walls found.”
What in the fuck?
I know for a fact that the deputy that’d called wouldn’t have divulged any more information to his lawyer than necessary. Even if this asshole pretended to be his lawyer, the deputy wouldn’t have given it.
So how did he have this information?
All of them burst into Greer’s home as if they owned the place, and by the time I got in there myself, the fucking walls were coming down around me.
Stomach clenched in anger, I had to force myself not to react. Or overreact like I was wont to do.
“Did you question the witness to see if all of this is necessary?” Sunny asked curiously, looking mildly concerned but definitely steaming on the inside. I could see his fingers flinching behind his back. He was definitely not happy with how this was being handled.
Or how the bigheaded motherfucker was working.
“I don’t need to question the witness,” McCollum said. “I know all.”
That’s when the birds finally decided that they’d had enough of staying in the kitchen.
Both entered, Bo doing his death march walk, and stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Bryan walked up toward me and stood by my feet. Bo stayed in the doorway.
“What the fuck are they doing in here?” Bobblehead bellowed.
“Is it me?” Bo called out. “Am I the drama?”
I snorted.
I’d listened to that TikTok this morning before leaving. Greer had sent it to me with instructions to watch it, or else.
I’d watched it.
Damn bird learned fast.
“You can’t enter Heaven unless Jesus enters you,” Bryan countered.
There was a long pause and then, “Holy fuck.”
“Somebody restrain those fuckin’ birds!” Bobblehead called out. “Or I’ll fuckin’ shoot them.”
Anger boiled in my gut at his words.
If he did anything to harm those birds, I’d fuckin’ kill him. I’d twist that head off his neck like a fuckin’ top.