Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
It was still dark out, but light was breaking on the horizon. Sunrise wasn’t far off, as was the opportunity for me to survive another day unscathed. I’d reinvented myself once before. If I had to, I could do it again. It’d be so much easier this time because I had money and assets I could leverage.
“Is that it?” the big guy asked.
At the same time, another member of his team approached and passed me a clipboard to sign over custody, except he wasn’t paying attention. He let go before I had the thing in hand, sending the board and its pen tumbling to the steps.
“Goddamnit,” I muttered, bending at the same time he did, both of us reaching for the pen. It was irritating, and our hands collided.
The big guy watched our fumbling with disinterest.
“Awful lot of truck for a few boxes,” he commented.
I glared up at him, wanting to tell him to mind his business, but refrained. I was about to sign over everything to him, and even though he wouldn’t be able to access the lock box, I’d be wise not to be an asshole. The smaller guy had finally wrangled the clipboard and awkwardly handed it to me, uttering a feeble apology.
“I’m moving some valuable pieces,” I said, scribbling my signature on the line, and shoved the clipboard back at the idiot who’d dropped it. “I appreciate the care you’ll give them during transit.” I squeezed out a wide smile. “And there will be a little something extra for each of you once everything is safely aboard my ship.”
“Sounds great, boss,” the big guy said. But he was weirdly indifferent.
As if early morning runs to a mansion in Cape Hill were normal and boring for him. It got under my skin, but I kept my mouth shut. He hadn’t a clue who I was and didn’t respect me the way he should.
Instead, he nodded to the rest of his men that it was time to go and climbed in the back of the truck with a teammate, pulling the doors closed with a loud thud. Relief poured through me as the engine rumbled to life and the final guy hurried to the passenger side of the cab, the clipboard tucked under his arm. He had a slight build, and as he opened the passenger door, an unsettling feeling overtook me.
My phone rang in my suit coat pocket, and I pulled it out, tapping the screen to accept.
The man on the other side didn’t wait for me to greet him; the security guard just began talking. “This is Robert at the front gate. Sir, federal agents just entered the property. They have a warrant.”
I kept my gaze locked on the slight man as he tossed the clipboard inside the truck. That document ensured I’d protected myself. So why did I have this horrible sense of dread?
The clipboard guy must have known I was watching him because he was halfway into the cab when he turned to look at me. He smiled, yanked off his hat, and chucked it into the truck, making his long brown hair spill out around his shoulders.
Those bulletproof vests were so bulky, and the uniforms masculine, I’d just assumed the whole crew were men. Plus, I hadn’t paid any attention to them, hadn’t bothered to really look at their faces. If I had, I would have recognized my niece much sooner.
Now, it was too late.
The world began to close in around me as she waved goodbye, then turned her middle finger up at me. I stood with my feet glued to the ground in shock, staring at her offensive finger and the oversized wristwatch she wore dangling on her arm.
That had been my watch up until she’d taken it off me during our fumbling over the clipboard and pen. Just like the contents of that truck had been mine until I signed over custody.
She’d cracked my Lagerfield safe in a few hours. It’d take her much less time to crack the simple lock on the security box Sovereign had provided. Everything inside was hers to keep, destroy, or turn over to the authorities.
In the blink of an eye, my fortune had been stolen from me.
When I took a step toward her, she jerked the door closed, and the truck lurched forward. I’d given them instructions to hurry and go out the back gate, and the driver was intent on following them. Maybe the rest of the team had no idea who she was or what she had planned, but I did.
I chased after the truck as it sped off, screaming for it to come back so loudly my vocal cords felt like gravel had been dragged across them. It was futile. The gray beast of a truck carrying everything I needed to start over grew smaller and disappeared behind the line of trees that obscured the back exit.