Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“We sent them the request. If they can get that done, they will,” Code assured him.
“I want you to know, I would have gone back to prison to get this done for you and your woman, Keys,” Master stated without looking at him. His voice was gruff.
Keys nodded. “I know you would have, but then your woman would have sliced me into little pieces for letting that happen. She’s tiny but mighty. We all live in fear of her.” He was only partially kidding to make Master smile. Ambrielle wouldn’t hesitate to protect her husband.
The others laughed, watching the scene they had orchestrated unfold. A car drove up to park across the street from the warehouse. It was Lyric’s brother Keith’s Audi, the one he kept locked up in a garage at the racetrack. A man looking exactly like Keith exited the vehicle and then, from the back seat, brought out several gas cans. He carried them two at a time to the warehouse, where he disappeared inside for several minutes and then emerged to splash gas all over the outside walls. He stepped back, lit a match and tossed it before running back to his car, getting in and driving away, accelerating very fast.
Torch stood in the shadows, concentrating on the warehouse. She knew the layout and meticulously started burns in every room and then fed the fire until it was roaring, both inside and out. The group quickly left the scene.
Preacher and Ink were their lead men, and they’d taken Lana with them. She had everything she needed to become Josephine Johansen, Lyric’s mother. Ink became Lester Johansen, Lyric’s father. They didn’t have to steal a car and return it before anyone noticed it was gone. Josephine, Lester and Keith were home, sitting in the backyard with a glass of wine, safe in their gated community, they thought. That made it a little trickier to keep from being seen as Lana made a show in front of the neighborhood camera of pouring gasoline inside and outside the Johansen home while Ink did the same with Keith’s home.
By the time they were ready for her, Torch had arrived with the rest of the team, and she built a conflagration so fast and so hot, there was no way to put out the fires. The three Johansens rushed to get hoses, but both homes were completely engulfed within minutes. The fire department arrived quickly, but there was no way to save either structure.
Josephine dramatically screamed and cried, falling to her knees and covering her face as she sobbed. Lana pulled off her mask and wig, amusement on her face. “That right there will have the fire department suspicious. Overacting.”
“And there’s evidence they sat in the backyard, toasting each other with wine,” Alena added. “It will be impossible to know the timeline of them settling in to be smug about their wonderful insurance fraud plan.”
“Wait until they get the news that their warehouse went up in flames,” Steele said. “Let’s get out of here. We have to get ready for the barbecue.”
They made their way back to their transport. “Thanks, everyone,” Keys said. “This was very personal to me.”
“Torpedo Ink,” Steele said.
“Word just came in,” Code said, seating himself comfortably in one of the leather chairs. “Miles was attacked and stabbed repeatedly. Sadly, there was no saving him.”
Satisfaction spread like fire through Keys. They’d accomplished the nearly impossible. Declan was bound to surface, and with him would be his Russian enforcers. The ones calling themselves Ghosts. Torpedo Ink had been on their trail relentlessly since the first time they had come to their attention. This was a good opportunity to find the man behind the kidnappings and murders.
They were patient hunters and had never swerved from finding the man running the Ghosts. They’d expected him to retaliate, but so far, he’d left them strictly alone. Czar was certain the director of the Ghosts had managed to infiltrate the Rampage club. Every member of that club had been in one of Sorbacov’s schools, which meant they were trained assassins. They knew one another, which allowed an opening for the Ghosts to insert someone—or more than one someone—into the club. Those who had gone to school with them would vouch for them and would never suspect that they were working as spies to find weaknesses so the Ghosts could control their club.
“Czar is certain the Rampage club has been infiltrated,” Steele said. “We’ve vetted them a couple of times, but not all members of their club were present when that happened. Czar made it mandatory for every single one to be at the barbecue tonight. We’re to mingle, talk to them, get a feel for who might be a traitor.”
Alena sighed. “We know I don’t have that sixth sense when it comes to ferreting out an enemy. I just go to bed with them.”