Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“The code is 9191933,” Janie said softly, pulling me out of my contemplation of how life was going to go for me for the next few months. “And all you have to do next time is text me, and I’ll give you the code. My dad and uncles should know better.”
I snorted. “Life doesn’t work like that, Janie. Never has, never will.”
Janie didn’t have anything to say to that.
Twenty minutes later, when we parted ways—her going to her office, which was new, in the Free office building and me going to the conference room with Sam—I realized that Janie was still getting under my skin.
Only now, it was even worse than it once had been.
Staying away from her was going to be an impossible task.
Her ass in those jeans was the entire reason for it, too.
Chapter 3
People always look startled when you call them fuckface.
-T-shirt
Rafe
4 months later
Things were not always what they appeared to be.
“No fucking shit,” I said to Trace. “This place? It’s a goddamn smorgasbord of crime. And the person I thought was just another asshole in all of this is even more stupid than I originally thought. Apparently, the student has become the teacher.”
This place was a complete clusterfuck. The cops in this town were corrupt. Shit was going on that even I didn’t have the vein tapped on, which was saying something because not a thing went on around me that I didn’t know about. It made me twitchy.
“What do you mean?” Trace asked warily.
“I mean that this entire fucking place is corrupt, and that dumbass, Layton Trammel, is at the epicenter of it all,” I said, rubbing my eyes in a way that made my wariness known. “I haven’t gotten anywhere near as much time devoted to this as I’d like with all the side jobs I’m doing, but I don’t have a good feeling here. Something big is happening, and Trammel is right there in the thick of it.”
“You need to drop the other jobs.” Trace stated what I knew would come out of his mouth the minute I told him that I suspected a whole lot more was going on here than what we’d initially thought.
“No,” I immediately declined. “They need me. I’m doing it; it’ll just take me more time to get shit done. Which might be a good thing. If I’m seen around town more, I might be able to wiggle my way further into Trammel’s operation.
Trace sighed. “Just don’t let the other jobs get in the way of this one,” he ordered.
I gave him a half-salute. “Yes, Daddy.”
Trace flipped me off. “I’m not your daddy.”
“No,” I agreed. “Because you don’t want to be my daddy.”
Trace was older than me by about fifteen years, and I more than trusted his judgment on most matters.
As long as it wasn’t matters of the heart, that was.
Trace had been through five wives. He has twelve kids with four of them and a child from a random hookup in another country during his first deployment.
He loved his kids…in his own way.
I think he saw them twice a year and talked to them about four times that on the phone. Then again, with twelve children, it was understandable that he’d not have as much time for them all as he would if he had a single child.
“So…Janie.”
My eyes flicked up toward Trace and then shifted away. “We’re not talking about her. Ever.”
Trace started to laugh, not stopping even when I’d turned my back on him.
“Oh, come on!” He guffawed. “It’s hilarious, and you know it. Admit it! You fell for a girl whose dad is going to kick your ass when you finally get in there.”
“I’m not getting in there,” I lied.
I was totally getting in there.
As soon as this job was done, anyway.
“You lie.” He sat straight up and looked at me while rubbing his stomach. “And don’t get too deep in this, man. Trust me on this. You won’t like having to fight for her.”
Trace would know. He’d had to fight for his current wife. The one who was ‘the one.’ Marci was a sweet lady, and she was like a mother hen, even to me, a man who was well into his forties.
Forty-one was in your forties, wasn’t it?
I looked at my friend and sighed. “Back to Layton.”
Trace’s eyebrows rose.
“How does he not know who you are yet?”
I grinned. “Free did something good in the beginning. They let me know that my past wasn’t buried quite as deep as I thought it was. They were only able to get a little bit on me, and I buried the rest of it so deep that I don’t think even I can find it again. My previous name is solid, and with the recent additions in the form of the fuckedupness that is my face, Layton has no fuckin’ clue who I am. Did I mention that he’s looking to hitch his daughter?”