Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Tell Vance that he’s going to invite us up for our appointment, or I’m going to hold a press conference announcing to the whole world that the Jonah Caddell took a loan from gangsters to start this business—a loan that I’m fairly sure never made it on the tax form—and Caddell House has been floating said gangsters perks and kickbacks ever since.”
Sunny beamed in that reddening face. “And for every minute he keeps me waiting, I’ll add more names to drop and more careers to ruin, and I’ll start with Vance Hollywell.”
The guy raked me and Sunny up and down behind his glasses, internally weighing how much trouble he’d be in if he didn’t take us seriously.
“Wait here.”
Slipping past, he left his three buddies to watch us while he returned to his station and picked up the phone. He said something in a low tone, then jerked the phone away as loud unintelligible shouts were his reply. He put the phone back and said something else, and then he returned it to its cradle.
He stomped back to us with a face he tried to keep neutral. “Mr. Hollywell is waiting for you,” he gritted. “Go on up.”
I fought a smile as we walked past four guards, a metal detector, and half a dozen staring eyes with nothing but a mild threat and a can-do attitude. Sunny was right—bodyguards were only as effective as the weak bitch cowering behind them.
GENNY
In typical me fashion, I went straight up to the cabin, kicked the door in, and started shooting.
I got two brothers in the chest before they could get their crotch-stinking fingers out of the popcorn bowl. I shot the third when he jumped off the couch, scrambling for his gun, and the fourth as he came running in from the hallway. But then the fifth ran in, and the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth, ninth, tenth.
I ducked back out the doorway, diving on the deck as a hail of bullets flew past the frame. Taking off fast, I bolted around the corner and peeked past as those morons charged out the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I dropped Tweedledee, Tweedledumb, and Tweedledickhead with one foot over the threshold. They dropped like dominoes, littering the deceptively pretty porch like the trash they were.
“Back,” someone shouted from inside. “Go out the back! Surround the bitch!”
Not a bad plan. Maybe someone in the Brotherhood did have two brain cells to rub together.
Too bad that won’t be enough.
I listened as too many heavy boots fled the front entrance and headed for the side and back doors. This place clearly wasn’t just another empty rathole. There were too many people—too many armed people—ready and waiting inside. This had to be it. The real Brotherhood headquarters.
Quickly, I crept back toward the door, keeping low. “Hey!” I growled, expertly mimicking Brother Abraham’s voice just like my favorite conman dad taught me. “Get out here, you fools! Help me, I’m hit! That stupid cunt bitch shot me!”
“Boss?”
“Boss, are you okay?”
“Is it clear?”
“It’s clear,” I gruffed. “Hurry up!”
I quickly ducked behind a deck chair as four grunts rushed to their savior’s aid. I ran inside and shut the door while they were still midway through crying and shouting his name.
Sweeping the dim room, I felt the pressing weight of silence. As predicted, everyone guarding the front door went tearing off at their master’s call, so I was alone. The blackout curtains and cheap table lamps didn’t provide much light, but it was enough for me to see the cabin wasn’t as charming on the inside as it was on the outside.
Dirt from dozens of muddy boots traipsing in and out ground into the worn once-blue carpets and turned them into an unappealing mottled brown. Not a single painting, mirror, or picture adorned the peeling white walls, and the small living room I stepped in had nothing to say for itself except for two old, smelly brown couches, a wall-mounted television, and a coffee table with a broken leg.
Slowly, quietly, I moved toward the hall—sliding my back against the wall.
It was quiet. Too quiet. The insulation was too good in this place because I couldn’t hear what was going on outside, or if those bastards were on their way back. From what my brothers told me, Luca kept his prisoners in separate rooms—alone and chained to the wall. An act which made it impossible for them to plot an escape, organize, or even have a friendly face to look to while surviving hell.
My gaze traveled up. If my Cardinals are here, they must be upstairs.
I crept further down the hall, picking up the pace. The staircase faced the back door, and I needed to climb up it before the brothers came back and got between me and my only way out.
Gun up and leading the way, I took the stairs two at a time. Topping the landing, I came out into another too-dark hallway, squinting at the seven doors split between either side of me. I reached for the knob directly on my right, and threw open the door—my finger ready and desperate to fire off a shot.