Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I’m about to take off when my phone rings.
“Micah, it’s Pete,” one of my contacts at the Tesoro police department says when I answer. “I have some information you might find valuable.” In other words, he’s expecting payment for whatever he’s about to say. And I’ll pay him because keeping the cops’ pockets padded means keeping them on my side.
“Go ahead,” I say, dropping into Lincoln’s seat.
“Eduardo Gutierrez was found dead. Apparent heart attack,” Pete says. “He was brought to Schneider, where an autopsy was performed off the record.”
This gets my attention. The Gutierrezes are one of the most notorious crime families on the East Coast. While we own the majority of Tesoro, the Gutierrezes run the underworld, making their living off drugs, prostitution, and trafficking. We don’t condone any of that shit, but because the Gutierrezes are a family you don’t want to piss off, and our families go way back, we turn our cheek at the shit they do and, in return, they don’t fuck with us.
“Schneider’s reported foul play,” Pete says.
“Any suspects?”
“I’m not sure, but word on the street is that his son is back.”
There’s a knock on the door, and my attention steers from Pete to the brown-haired, blue-eyed goddess walking in.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she accuses.
“Thanks for the info,” I say to Pete. “Keep me updated.” I hang up without waiting for his response and give Sienna my full attention.
“Where’s Lincoln?” she asks, glancing around the room with wide eyes.
“Tasting food upstairs.” I lean back in my brother’s chair, clasping my hands behind my head. “But whatever you need, I’m sure I can help you…” I blatantly eye-fuck the hell out of her, causing her to glare my way. So damn sassy. I bet she’ll be a hellcat in bed.
“Unless you’re my boss, that’s not possible.”
I smirk, loving that she has no idea who I am—something that’s rare. “Well, technically I do own this place.” I shrug nonchalantly, lowering my arms and leaning over the desk.
“What?” she gasps. “What are you talking about? Lincoln…”
“Is my brother,” I say, steepling my fingers. “And this club is owned by Alexander Enterprises, and since I’m Micah Alexander, part owner and CEO of Alexander Enterprises, that means I own this club and am technically your boss. So, what is it I can help you with?”
Several emotions flit through her features as she stares at me: shock, horror, a bit of curiosity. But when her eyes turn into thin slits and her lips purse together, I know she’s settled on pissed.
“Well,” she says, her hand going to her hip as she juts her chin out. “I came in here to tell my boss about the psychopath member who keeps returning, requests private shows, and then proceeds to harass me. But since you’re my boss—” she glares daggers my way, and if looks alone could kill, I would be a dead man “—that will be a waste of time.” She tilts her head to the side and smirks. “Speaking of which…” She steps closer, a gleam in her eye. “If you’re my boss, wouldn’t that mean you’ve been hitting on your employee?” She takes another step toward me and leans against the desk casually, crossing her arms over her chest like she’s got this all figured out. “I’m pretty sure there’s something in the employee handbook that says sexual harassment is not allowed. I could sue you.”
I chuckle, turned on by her zero-fucks-given attitude. She either has no idea who I am—and by that I mean the weight my name holds and what I’m capable of—or she doesn’t give a shit.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” she barks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.
“Tell me,” she demands, and I’m pretty sure I catch her stomping a foot.
“You remind me of a Hellcat,” I say honestly. “Gorgeous and sexy on the outside, with sleek lines and perfect, smooth curves. From afar, you assume that’s all it is—beauty—but there’s more to it than meets the eye—”
“I remind you of a cat?” she says, cutting me off. “And eww, you think they’re sexy?”
She scrunches her nose up in disgust, and I bark out a laugh. “Not a cat. A Hellcat. It’s a car.”
“A car?” Her brows kiss her forehead.
“A Hellcat is one of the most insanely beautiful cars they make. It’s full of raw power. Fierce and unstoppable. But you wouldn’t know what it’s capable of unless you get in and take it for a drive.”
She swallows thickly. “And I remind you of this car? From the barely three interactions we’ve had.”
“You do. I’m good at reading people. On the outside, you’re beautiful, but underneath, I can see that raw fierceness trying to claw its way out. You’re strong, but you don’t want anyone to know because you’re trying to blend in. Only you have no idea that you could never be a chameleon.”