Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispers, her voice defeated. “He took everything.”
“Everything?” I ask, my glare hot enough to burn as I shift my eyes back to the vermin siphoning the blood from his wife’s veins while she’s still breathing.
I mouth to Roy that I’m going to kill him when Miranda answers, “All my equipment, my catering van. He even sold the ovens we use for catering events like the one I am meant to host this weekend. I have nothing to serve on, so even if I could get suppliers to deliver stock to me on the bad credit I now apparently have, I can’t offer my clients the level of service I promised. It’s over. I have to cancel all my upcoming events, including your business partner’s upcoming nuptials.”
There’s no fear in her voice. No disgust. She knows my warts and doesn’t care about them, which frees me to say, “Did you forget what industry I’m in? I can get you anything you need in less than twenty-four hours. There’s no need to cancel anything.”
Miranda proves she is as smart as she is beautiful, and it triples my obsession faster than I can click my fingers. “The white powder I’m seeking is a little different from what you usually distribute, Nero.”
I thought the depth of my involvement in the Russian mafia syndicate making me rich would have her running scared. I should have known better.
It is easy to soar when you give up everything weighing you down.
I don’t bother continuing to hide who I am. Miranda has seen me at my worst, rampant on vengeance and cloaked with danger, so she can see the real me as well. Her unexpected but highly craved respect has earned the honor.
“If it wasn’t, would you accept it? Would you let a man like me help you?”
She contemplates for barely a moment before answering with a dignity she will never be without if I have it my way. “Yes… for a fair finder’s fee.”
My smile is heard in my words. “Then send me a list so we can skip to swapping services with no funds exchanging hands.”
I don’t need to be paid a finder’s fee. I’ve already found her. She’s mine. No fee needed.
“Nero—”
“Send me a list,” I repeat, not needing her gratitude, but confident that is what she wants to give. “I’ll get everything you need, and then some.”
“Some?”
I let silence speak on my behalf.
Tiny panting breaths have never been more vocal.
“Okay.” Miranda wrangles with her emotions for ten seconds before she blurts out, “I’ll give you a list tonight when you come over.”
“I’m coming over?” When she looks worried, like she didn’t hear my thoughts as accurately as she did, I say, “I’ll see you at eight,” before I disconnect our call.
After dumping my phone onto the table holding my laptop, I reacquaint my fist with Roy’s face.
The brutal collision dots my shirt with blood, meaning I will need to change again before visiting my favorite neighbor, but the crunch of his nose and the split of its bridge makes the sacrifice worthwhile.
I knew I kept this fucker alive for a reason. I just had no clue it would be for Miranda’s benefit as much as it would be mine.
As I wipe Roy’s blood from my knuckles with the gag I’ll stuff back into his mouth once he’s given me what I need, I say, “Address. Now.”
“I—”
I hit him again, splitting the skin above his eye as effectively as the gash across his nose, before I pull a gun out of the back of my trousers and aim it to my left, right at the pinched pleat between my wife’s brows.
“Address. Now. Or we’re going to learn exactly how close you two became while scheming to play me for a fool.”
Roy folds like a narc, and it reminds me of my true objectives.
None of them are for him.
13
MIRANDA
As I twirl a pen between my fingers, I stray my eyes to my rapidly dwindling schedule. The pages were once full. Now they’re covered with strikethroughs. My latest client’s cancelation means I have only one event to cater for this month. Considering we’re only weeks out from Christmas, that is extremely depressing to admit.
“I know it’s late notice. But—”
“It’s fine, Sawyer. I understand.”
I don’t, but what can I say? You shouldn’t listen to anything my husband tells you because he’ll use your lack of loyalty to the catering company you hired a year ago against you when he encourages your husband-to-be to file a last-minute prenuptial agreement.
A divorce attorney is no one’s friend, so I have no clue why Roy’s potential future victims are siding with him.
I would dig deep for answers if I weren’t so angry.
Alas, I don’t want to work with women who will cut off their nose to spite their face. I want to work with clients who respect and appreciate the effort I put in to make their event a huge success. I’m not a member of their staff or their employee. I am an extension of them and the love story they’re trying to cram into a handful of selected dishes.