Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
It is.
Marshall and I are just getting started. When he comes home, I’m going to tell him exactly how I feel. My eyes dart to the Jägermeister…maybe I’ll just do another small one before I go upstairs. Because suddenly I feel like something bad is about to happen.
Stop it, Courtney, you’re just being emotional.
Nuke doesn’t know anything, look at him.
Yeah, everything is fine, Ammo will come home, and I’ll finally say the actual words.
I love you.
Three little words that I swore I’d never say again, only this time I mean them. I’m putting it all on the line because I want him.
Need him to know.
I turn and pour that shot, blocking out that small, scared voice in the back of my head that likes to remind me to never trust anyone.
But Ammo is not just anyone.
He’s the one.
AMMO
The Disciples’ Clubhouse, Burbank, California
“Clean,” the giant biker states like this is a normal thing.
“Thanks, Ox.” Blade drops down into his chair at the head of the massive wooden table and motions for me to sit to his right as Frosty sits to his left.
“Everything alright?” My eyes follow Ox as he grunts something at Axel in passing.
“Yes,” Blade informs me as Frosty rolls his chair over to the mini fridge for a Red Bull, holding it up as he looks at me.
“Want one?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” I look over as Axel saunters closer, dumping at least three phones on the table.
“You want a Bloody Mary? I’m gonna have Amy bring us some eggs and shit.” He grunts as he sits at the other end.
“Sure, whatever,” I say, looking around the giant room.
“Okay. So, Michael Zane.” Frosty types on his laptop, “He lives with his parents in Torrance, California, he’s thirty-four. He has a job bagging groceries at the Ralphs down the street from his house. He checks in weekly with his parole officer, and attends numerous meetings ranging from AA to Gambler’s Anonymous. His therapist has diagnosed him as a sociopath with severe OCD behavior, along with delusions of grandeur.” The sound of Frosty opening the Red Bull echoes around the large room.
“That being said, we’ve had a prospect trailing him. He’s not left his zip code in the last few days. I hacked into his computer, it is filled with pictures of Courtney, but it’s all from the Internet.” He stops to take a drink and I sit back in the chair, trying to remain calm, because this is not starting off good.
“So, it’s him?” I state as Frosty holds up the Red Bull and swallows.
“Maybe, but something didn’t feel right. The days that those books and photos showed up, there’s footage of him at work, all day. He never left, just bagged groceries, even in the back breakroom, he’s seen. So, he either has someone helping him, by delivering the books, which would give him an alibi, or it’s not him.
“And?” I question, feeling my fist clench.
“I don’t think it’s him. I’m not saying he’s not a threat to Courtney, but in my opinion, Mike Zane is not the one who left the books or installed the cameras.”
I push back into the chair and stand as I look around. “What the fuck?”
“You wanted me to check out everyone who’s worked for her and her friends. This is where it gets interesting.” Frosty adjusts his dark, black-rimmed glasses and reaches for the remote for the large screen TV as the door to the conference room swings open.
A middle-aged woman carries a large platter of what looks like scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage.
“Thanks, Amy.” Axel moves to help her as she frowns.
“Listen up. I’m bringing one round of Bloody Marys, and a pot of coffee. It’s not even nine AM yet.” She shakes her head, her eyes glancing at me, then around at all of them.
“Yes, ma’am.” Axel winks at her as her eyes narrow on him.
“And you…” She points at him. “The twins have their dance recital at three. I refuse to have you smelling of booze.” She huffs as he kisses the top of her head, while she slaps his arm.
“I mean it,” she chastises, but I see her grin as she leaves. Frosty clears his throat and numerous pictures fill the screen.
“I went through everyone, even casual acquaintances. Most are exactly what they say. I mean, everyone has secrets…” He types, and Malcolm’s face appears and I lean forward on the table, because if it’s Malcolm…
“I dug deep on him, since he’s close and runs a lot of Courtney’s accounts, but he’s clean,” he says casually, and I hear myself exhale. Christ, it’s like I’m waiting for the fucking hangman. I’m ready to strangle Frosty with his detached voice.
“Rachel Stewart. She’s Courtney’s PR woman for the last three years. She was engaged to Jett Powers. One daughter, a Raven Stewart, who is now married to Jett.” My eyes narrow on her face, then pictures of Jett and Raven laughing together appear as Axel lights a cigarette.