Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
He nods, and I turn and rush into the women’s restroom. I pull out my phone from my purse and text Cohen. “We’re leaving out of the back exit now. Be ready.”
I pee, because I actually need to, and that gives me time to let Cohen reply. “Copy that.”
They’re ready.
I swallow, wash my hands, and then walk back out. “Those are really nice bathrooms,” I say to Benedict.
“I only offer the best in my bar,” he informs me, putting his arm out so I can link mine through.
He’s weirdly old school, and yet strangely new age. What an odd combination. We walk out, with me chatting and laughing, as I normally would. We step out of the back exit, and over to his Rolls Royce, which holy mother, it’s fancy. I know the bikers aren’t going to do anything yet, there is too much security around and they don’t want anybody to know it was them that took the man himself.
They’ll follow us until we arrive at his house.
I can only hope nobody in the club was important enough to link me to his death, though they were all just workers I met tonight and none of them took a good look at me. The bartender, maybe. It’s worth the risk, at the very least. I don’t particularly like the idea of harming Benedict but he’s the only way we’re ever going to bring this operation down.
We arrive at his massive home, and he slows down the car. I try not to think of the fact that he’s drunk driving. This rich prick thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants. I can’t stand people like that. It’s not your life you’re risking, it’s the poor innocent person driving home, possibly with a family, that you’re going to take out. Dick.
“This is your house?” I breathe, staring up at the home through the massive windshield.
“It is. I’m sure once you see inside, you’ll agree to my terms. I can offer you the world, Aviana.”
I’m sure he can.
We get out of the car which he has parked on the street and walk toward the large gates surrounding his property. They would want to hurry up, because this particular gate isn’t going to stay open long.
I stall him, pausing and looking back at the car. I can see Alarick’s truck pulling in to a stop over the road. “You’re going to just leave your car out here in the open?” I ask.
He looks at me, then the car, then grins slowly. “It isn’t my car.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. It’s my employee’s. He will collect it in the morning.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding.
We turn and go to walk through the gates when I hear the sound of a gun cocking. I spin around and see Alarick, Cohen, Samson, Mykel, and Kendric all standing, pointing their guns at Benedict. He turns around when he realizes I’m not stopping. When he sees the club, his eyes widen. Probably from shock, he honestly didn’t see them coming. That’s one on the club score board.
“Move, I blow your fuckin’ brains out,” Alarick growls.
“Get in the truck,” Cohen orders, nodding to the truck that is now rolling in to park up behind Benedict’s car. Zariah is driving.
“Who the hell are you?” Benedict demands, his face stony.
“You’ll find out, when you get into the car.”
“I won’t get into your car. I’m calling for help!”
He pulls out his phone, and Cohen aims his gun and shoots his foot. The sound that comes out of Benedict’s mouth is horrifying. It’s a pained bellow that makes my skin prickle. He drops down to the ground and his phone skitters out of his hand. The men move fast, cuffing him and dragging him, still roaring in pain, into the back of the truck. As they’re about to close the door, he looks to me and mouths, “You?”
I smile and shrug. “Me.”
Then his eyes flutter closed, probably from the pain, and he passes out. I turn and walk over, picking up his phone. This will have location tracking on it, so I don’t want to be leaving it anywhere that will lead to us. I check the screen—it’s still unlocked so I quickly scroll through his messages. One is from a man he seems to contact quite a lot, and I send a message saying, “Business as usual tomorrow, I’m turning in for the evening.”
It sounds very similar to the other messages. I simply want them to know he’s at home.
I glance around, there are no cameras pointing out to the street that I can see, probably lucky because as soon as we stepped inside those gates it’s a given that there would be cameras surrounding that house. I suppose Benedict doesn’t spend much time worrying about who is on the street. I bet he’ll come to regret that decision. I throw his phone into his yard and then get into Cohen’s truck when it pulls up.