Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Almost instantly my cell rings again and I end up on another business call for the next twenty minutes. I’ve been off long enough to refill my mug when I receive a notification from security that I have company. I approve entry and five minutes later, I’m opening the door to be greeted by a man at least an inch taller than my six three. He’s an athletic guy, thirty-something, wearing jeans and a Walker Security polo. His nose sharp, his jawline sharper, with a day-old shadow, the look on his face unreadable. “Adam,” he says, offering me his hand but not his last name.
“Ethan Dalton,” I greet, engaging in the shake before I back up and welcome him. “Come on in.” I start walking and call over my shoulder. “Coffee?”
“No thanks, man. I’ve had a pot this morning.”
“My kind of man,” I say as we sit at the island. “What’s your story, Adam?”
“My father was CIA. He trained me. It sucked. I enlisted. I was SEAL Team Six. Now I’m a member of another elite team, which is Walker.”
“Impressive resume. What kind of fucked up shit is my brother into?”
“It’s not the mob,” he assures me. “I’d guess that’s Anna trying to get your attention.”
“That’s one piece of good news but if not the mob, what are we dealing with?”
“These guys involved in this cybersecurity company are shady as fuck. They steal from their investors. They bankrupt them. They have a trail a dozen deep. They tell them all this is it. This is the big one and they’re those ‘selling ice to Eskimos’ sales pitch kind of people. They convince the investor to hand over more and more money. The real problem here is the propensity for extortion if there’s that option. Which is part of how they bankrupt people.”
“Holy fuck,” I murmur. “And this is the company he’s recommending to the board as an investment.”
“That’s the other thing I need to mention,” Adam adds. “These guys convinced Grant to buy in on the backend. He doesn’t look like an investor, but he is. Therefore, when he goes to the board, he won’t look as if he’s connected, but he’s double dipping.”
“And when this goes belly up, he’s in the dirt.”
“Exactly.”
I scrub my jaw and reach under the counter, pull out a bottle of fine whiskey and two glasses, setting one in front of Adam. “You in for a shot? I fucking need it.”
“I’m a better shot one whiskey down, so yeah. Hit me, baby.”
I laugh and fill his glass. “Dalmore 30 year. It’s a hell of a bottle. Enjoy.”
“I love a good Dalmore,” he says, making it clear he’s not without money or taste, before he lifts his glass. “To kicking the ass of dumb brothers.”
“You have one, too?”
“Yeah. His name is Rick Savage, and he’s a brother from another mother, my Walker brother, and he frequently needs his ass kicked.” He lifts the glass but pauses to add, “but he’s the guy you want by your side when all hell breaks loose.”
I laugh and we tilt the shots back at the same time, and for me, the burn oh so good. We both plant our glasses on the bar. “Damn good,” Adam murmurs. “Thanks, man.”
I’d like to offer us both another, but my brother and his monkey business has to come first. “Where is my father now?” I ask
“About to have lunch with Grant at Francine’s. They have reservations for eleven am. Need a ride? One of my guys is downstairs behind the wheel of an SUV.”
“Let’s do it.”
A few minutes later, I’m in the backseat with Adam next to me. “Anything else I need to know?”
“You can save the company’s involvement, but your brother is in this. He’s going to need help to get out.”
“Can you handle it?”
“Of course. We enjoy getting rid of scavengers, but it would be easier with his cooperation.”
“Assume it won’t be easy and do it anyway, even against his will. I don’t care what it costs me.”
Adam inclines his chin. “Consider it done.”
We pull up to the restaurant, a Fifth Street spot my father favors for its high-profile clientele that allows him to rub elbows with the who’s who of the city. “Send me your contact information,” I say, opening the door.
“Already in your email, as is proof of everything I just told you,” he replies, “but I’ll shoot you a text now as well.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and a moment later, my phone pings. “If you need me,” he adds, “text. Any time of the day or night.”
There’s something about Adam; a calm quietness, that is somehow as brutal as it is lethal. He’s a decent man, but not so decent that he won’t kill you if you force his hand. I wouldn’t want to cross him and I like that about him.