Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Women in bikinis sashayed by, some trying to pick up someone, others apparently just out in the perfect weather. A large shadow appeared in his periphery, but he didn’t jump, didn’t make any motion of surprise.
“My son says you are being disrespectful.”
“Your son is a fucking idiot and will do nothing but get your business in trouble.” Lance sipped his drink, still not looking over to the man who’d taken a seat at his table.
Again, there was no need.
“This is true.” Dusan Jankovic gestured to someone, presumably to get a drink delivered. “However, he is my son and high up in my business.” He glared at Lance with cold blue eyes. “Higher up than you.”
Lance drained his drink and watched with zero interest as some barely clad honey dropped off a drink and exchanged a heavy kiss with Dusan. When they parted, his boss had one meaty hand down her bikini bottom, groping her ass and fingering her pussy with two digits.
“If you no longer want my work, say so. But don’t insult me and say that I have to take orders from a man who thinks with his small dick. Your son is a detriment to the business that you’re trying to grow. If that’s who I have to follow, I will walk away right now because I’m not letting that man fit me for a pine box.”
Dusan frowned, pulled his fingers from the girl’s pussy, and smacked her on the ass. “Leave us.”
She sauntered off on her too-tall six-inch heels.
“Explain these words to me, Lance.”
“You want to discuss this here?”
Dusan shrugged. “They know who I am and what happens if they talk.” He narrowed his eyes. “Like you do.”
Just more reason to get this fuck off the street. This bastard was so arrogant the thought of discussing something like this in public didn’t cause even the slightest bit of hesitation. Granted, it wasn’t anywhere in public, but certain businesses.
In a way it made sense. The man had more spies than Lance wanted to think about. It sucked because being undercover here meant zero contact with anyone other than his handler, and those contacts were few and far between.
He was ready to finish this and move on. With what he wasn’t sure, but this case had begun to take its toll on him, making him wonder if he needed to simply get out of the business altogether.
“Not sure how else you want me to explain it. Your son thinks he’s untouchable. He’s very vocal about the young girls who are picked up and sold. I’ve heard him going on about it to other girls, threatening their little sisters with phrases like, ‘I can make them disappear’ or any number of things that includes him actually fucking them.” Dusan’s gaze darkened but Lance pressed ahead. After all, the man had asked. “You have people loyal to you in the department, yes, but there isn’t going to be anything they can do when your son mouths off in front of the wrong people. As powerful as you are, there are others in this city who hold more power. We both know this.”
He sipped his drink, staring around the bar briefly, glossing over the women in their skimpy outfits both inside and outside of the establishment.
“Why have none of the ones around him come to me with this?”
Lance shrugged. “Can’t speak for them in that regard. My guess would be that they have a job to keep him alive. They’re loyal to him and answer to him.”
“But you?”
“Like I said before…” He frowned as someone caught his attention. A tingle of recognition hit him, but she was gone seconds later, before the recognition could manifest into a name. “Like I said, I work for you. Not him. I told you when you came to me I wasn’t taking orders from anyone else. Only you.”
“What are you looking at?”
“Thought I saw someone I knew.” He held Dusan’s stare without blinking.
“Cop friend?”
Lance didn’t worry, the man always wondered if people were cops. If they weren’t on his payroll, he was suspicious. “Hardly. She was on this side of the law, drug running, carjacking, that kind of thing.”
Dusan scratched his jaw. “She good?”
“One of the best.” Lance shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not there and it may not have been her.”
Even as the words fell, she stepped into view once more. Damn it! It was her. He’d recognize her anywhere. Ever since she’d propositioned him back in Atlanta to let her go instead of arresting her, he’d been unable to get her out of his head. Just another thing to be pissed about in the long line of things that angered him. Having a hard-on for the untrustworthy, partially psychopathic twin of a woman he’d been watching. Of course, at that time he had thought the woman under his watch was the crazy drugged-out one. But the second the real Jasmine had touched him, he’d knew it hadn’t been her. Lance had felt like he’d been stabbed by a handful of lightning bolts at that simple contact. A feeling he’d been unable to forget.