Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“Are you certain blowing all of them up is a good idea, Czar?” Transporter asked from under the Mercedes Dr. Mills drove.
“We were very fortunate in that Winston was in the military and handled explosives for four years,” Czar said. “It’s a fitting way for them to go, and when the cops find Winston, he’ll have the evidence of all these bombs in his apartment. We used his credit card to buy the materials as well.”
“Nice,” Mechanic said. He pushed down the hood of the matching Mercedes Tiptree owned.
Ice glanced at his watch. “They’ll be out in about eight more minutes.”
“Harbin Conner will be up in his room, like every Friday night. It will take him about four minutes before he turns on his television set. The explosives are set to go off near simultaneously,” Transporter said and rolled out from under the Mercedes. He grinned at Mechanic. “Nothing fancy. We didn’t want anyone to think this took brains.”
The men gathered tools, making certain to leave nothing behind. All four cars gleamed under the parking garage’s lights. Code had dealt with the cameras, but it didn’t matter, they stayed to the shadows. The entire team slipped back into the night and waited.
The four poker players came out together, laughing and exchanging quick good-byes. Dr. Mills and Dr. Tiptree slid behind the wheel of their respective Mercedeses. Monroe broke off to climb into his sporty Aston Martin. Detective Danny Sullivan preferred his SUV. He couldn’t look as if he had a shit-pile of money, and the SUV was good for off-roading.
Waving, they started out of the parking garage. Once on the street, Sullivan turned to the left while the other three turned right. A window blew out in one of the condos above the garage, a wall of flames shooting out. Monroe slammed on his brakes and looked up as a body on fire followed after shattered glass and dropped like stone toward the street. Behind him, Tiptree’s Mercedes exploded, and immediately, Mills’s vehicle in front of him did the same. In the distance, he could hear another explosion and he sat still, his heart slamming loudly, waiting. Two heartbeats later it came. The blast rocked the car, blowing up from under him, driving him right through the roof, smashing every bone in his body.
Czar didn’t leave anything to chance. They waited, now across the street on the rooftop, watching to make certain every one of those involved in the planning of killing socialites for their money was dead. When the last body was accounted for, Ice and Storm looked at each other with satisfaction.
“Alena’s got Overfield at the bar. She’s looking pretty hot as a redhead. She’s all spiked out, rock-and-roll style. He can’t stop looking at her legs. Savage and Absinthe are covering her,” Czar said. “Let’s get moving. We still have all the players to get to before anyone, especially Winston, gets wind that his entire ring is gone.”
* * *
“Come on, baby,” Alena whined, rubbing her hand up and down Simon Overfield’s thigh as if she couldn’t stop touching him.
He owned and worked in the mortuary where all the bodies of the murdered women had been taken. He’d gone to school with both Tiptree, the medical examiner, and Mills and had remained close friends with them. His mortuary had become a very important piece of their business together.
“Don’t you want to dance anymore?” Her fingertips came very close to his groin.
“I worked all day, darling,” Overfield complained. “You’ve had me dancing for the last hour.”
She would have shot herself had she danced with him that long. He couldn’t dance. Mostly he turned in circles and stepped on her feet while he rubbed his body against hers.
“Do you want another drink?” he asked hopefully.
Alena was dressed in high boots, a miniskirt and a camisole that pushed her generous breasts up so they were nearly falling out of her top. She wore a bright red wig that was short with spiked hair, dark brown contacts and long gloves that matched her boots.
She leaned in close to Overfield, one hand sliding around his neck while the other slid up his thigh to his crotch. “What I really want to do is take you into the alley and fuck your brains out. I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
His breath hitched. His cock jumped under her hand. She squeezed it through his trousers.
“Please, baby, you’ve been teasing me all night.” She batted her lashes and parted her lips so the tip of her tongue touched the top of her teeth.
Overfield grabbed his drink and tossed it down his throat so fast he coughed. “Come on, Mary, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.” He caught her hand and tugged until she slipped from the bar stool. He grabbed his suit jacket and led the way, nearly pulling her out of the bar. He stood just outside for a moment, looking around as if he didn’t know the proper direction to go. Alena let him, wanting him to feel desperate.