Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
"Yes, sir," she says with a mock salute, but her eyes are serious. "I trust you."
Those three words hit harder than they should. I turn away before she can see how much they affect me.
We eat a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast at the small table. Anniston keeps stealing glances at me over her mug, her foot brushing mine under the table like she can’t help touching me. I don’t stop her. The drive down the mountain is quiet at first, but every so often she reaches over and squeezes my thigh. Her touch is light and warm and it takes everything in me not to pull the truck over and drag her into my lap.
Halo City looks the same as always when we hit the outskirts. Glass towers gleaming under the bright morning sun, traffic humming along the streets, people moving like nothing dark is happening beneath the surface. I take back roads and side streets, avoiding main arteries, eyes constantly scanning the mirrors for tails. Anniston is quiet beside me, but I can feel her watching me.
"You okay?" she asks after a while.
"Fine," I mutter. "Just focused."
She smiles softly. "You get all broody when you're thinking about the mission. It's kind of hot."
I grip the wheel tighter. "Not helping, Anniston."
She laughs lightly but drops it. “ Sorry.”
I give her a soft smile. My head needs to be clear when we reach Wyatt Rivers' building.
He lives in a mid-rise apartment complex on the east side of the financial district. Not luxury, but decent enough for a guy who just got a fat payout. I park two blocks away in a shadowed spot with good sight lines to the entrance and multiple exit routes.
"Stay here," I tell Anniston, handing her a spare burner phone. "Lock the doors. If anything looks wrong, drive straight back to the cabin and call Mack. Don’t wait for me."
She grabs my hand before I can get out, her fingers warm and steady. "Be careful. Please."
I nod once and head toward the building, keeping my stride casual but alert. The lobby is quiet, just a bored security guard scrolling on his phone. I bypass the elevator and take the stairs to the fourth floor. Apartment 412. I listen at the door for thirty seconds. No movement inside. I knock firmly.
No answer.
I knock again, louder. "Wyatt Rivers? Need to talk to you about Meridian Financial."
Still nothing. I test the knob. Locked. A quick glance up and down the hall shows no cameras. I pull out my lock kit and have the door open in under twenty seconds.
The apartment is small and messy. Takeout containers litter the coffee table. A laptop sits closed on the couch. A half-packed duffel bag rests by the door like he was thinking about running. I move through the space quickly and quietly, checking every room. Empty.
In the kitchen drawer I find a stack of papers. Bank statements. The large deposit is right there, dated two days after his termination. Notes scribbled in the margins reference the D.C. consultancy. Names I recognize from Anniston's files. This guy knows something. I take photos with my phone and slip the most important pages into my jacket. Then I spot another name scrawled on a piece of paper: Billy Hawthorne.
My father.
I grab the paper and slip it into my jacket.
As I head back toward the front door, I hear footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Two sets. I press myself against the wall beside the door and wait.
The knob turns. Someone’s coming in.
I wait until the first man steps inside, then I move. My forearm locks around his throat, yanking him back hard. He makes a choked sound. His partner spins, reaching for a weapon. I kick the door shut and drive my knee into the first guy's ribs, dropping him to the floor.
The second man pulls a knife. Amateur move. I disarm him in two swift motions, slamming him face-first into the wall. "Who sent you?" I growl.
Neither answers. I zip-tie their wrists tight and pat them down. Burner phones. No IDs. Classic hired muscle.
I call Mack while I secure them better. "Got company at Rivers' place. Two guys. They knew I was coming. Rivers’s gone. Place looks like he left in a hurry."
"Shit," Mack says. "Get out of there. Vance is pulling more on Rivers now. He might be on the run too. Local PD is headed there now."
I hang up and head back to the truck at a fast walk, scanning every shadow. Anniston is sitting exactly where I left her, eyes wide with relief when she sees me.
"You're okay," she breathes as I slide into the driver's seat.
"Yeah. But Rivers is gone. Someone beat us here." I start the engine and pull out, eyes on the mirrors the whole time. "We’re not staying in the city. Too hot."