Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He parked in front of an ostentatious house with a cobblestone driveway and a giant fountain in the front. Getting out, he stalked up the sidewalk. He tried the door first, and finding it locked, slammed his shoulder against the heavy wood. The wood bowed against his shifter strength. He threw his weight into it again, then a third time, cracking the door from the hinges.
It swung open and he found himself face to face with Jack, who pointed a revolver at him.
Ben spread his hands. “What’s your plan, Jack?” he asked, stepping in and swinging the broken door shut behind him.
Jack’s nostrils flared, his little eyes darting past Ben toward the door.
“You planted a bomb in my laptop, but haven’t triggered it yet. You kidnapped Ashley’s sister. You just toppled every one of our servers. Are you trying to lower our stock so you can buy it all out with me out of the picture? Do you think Shayla would let you do that?”
Jack’s face had gone pale, that muscle under his right eye twitched as it always did when he challenged Ben. The hand holding the revolver shook slightly, but his expression was all sneer.
Ben advanced slowly. “The FBI knows all about the kidnapping and the bomb,” he said, only partly bluffing. Mark knew, after all, so if or when things came out with the authorities, Mark would see that the right people were prosecuted and any references to wolves were left out. “They already traced the server crash to your IP address.”
Jack fired the gun, hitting him in the gut.
Ben did his best not to flinch, despite the burn, and gave a mirthless laugh, his upper lip curling. He walked casually forward as if the bullet didn’t bother him. “Who are you working with? The Sandoval cartel?”
Jack gaped, his eyes dropping to the bleeding wound, then back to Ben’s face. The sneer faded, confusion creeping in. “I don’t know who that is.” He fired again, this time hitting Ben right in the sternum.
He lost his breath, but he did not stagger backward. “Who then?”
Jack’s hand trembled violently as he finally comprehended that Ben couldn’t be eliminated as easily as he had thought. “What are you?”
He grinned. “I can’t be killed, Jack,” he lied. “What does that do to your plans?”
Jack’s eyes darted around the room and he began to back up.
“Your idea was clever, I’ll admit that,” he said, hoping to get him to talk. He needed to know who else was involved and what Jack’s exact motivation had been. “And rather elaborate. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just shoot me right from the beginning?”
Jack’s eyes fell to the bullet wounds again. “Yeah, but I wanted the server crash to be on your watch.”
“You wanted the board to fire me?”
His mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. “I wanted there to be nothing left of Stone Technologies,” he spat. “So my stock options from the employment package at Suma Games would make me rich.”
“You already are rich,” he muttered, then shook his head. Why was he arguing with an insane man?
A bead of sweat dripped down Jack’s face, but he gave a twisted grin. “It’s nothing more than I deserve. I invented the NE3, not Leon.”
A flash of irritation on Leon’s behalf made him surge forward.
Jack fired again. This time it caught Ben in the ribs, well below his heart. The impact seared and momentarily knocked him back, but he kept his face blank and snatched the gun out of Jack’s hands. Ben turned it around and smacked Jack on the head with the handle side.
Jack crumpled to the carpeted floor, groaning.
Ben kicked him in the ribs. “Hey, Jack—you’re fired.”
He flipped the gun back around, pointed it at the little weasel’s head, and discharged it.
Ashley’s head swam like she’d downed three margaritas on an empty stomach. The dizziness seemed different than weakness caused by blood loss—there was a pleasant, but disoriented sensation, too. She’d somehow managed to get dressed and held a towel to the puncture wounds, but blood had soaked through her shirt and the towel and the sight made her nauseous. Her emotions were a tangled mess, too. She couldn’t stop crying—not because of the pain, although it was still excruciating, but more from shame and betrayal. Why had he bitten her? She had trusted him, given herself to him, and he’d turned savage. Had she somehow angered him? Surely tearing a hunk out of her shoulder wasn’t what he meant when he said wolves were rough when they had sex. Or was that the ‘marking’ she’d heard them talk about? Was this why he’d been so afraid to have sex with her?
Maybe so, but why had he just abandoned her afterward? He’d walked out the door while she’d been huddled naked and bleeding and he hadn’t returned. Even as she swore she’d never forgive him for this, her lovesick heart kept waiting for him to return and explain himself. But he hadn’t.