Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 171979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 573(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 573(@300wpm)
Kent could feel the rage rolling in his direction as he drove to the meeting place he had arranged with Ice.
He pulled into the deserted factory parking lot just as the sun went down. The metal gate blocking the parking area had been opened, allowing them through. The lot was the size of a football field and didn’t have any place where anyone could hide other than the dilapidated brick factory. Jackal had been staking the factory out for the last two days after checking that it was empty.
Two men on motorcycles were waiting in the middle of the lot. Kent stopped in front of them and put the car in Park.
“Don’t open your mouth. And keep the bag until I tell you to give it to Wraith,” he instructed Mica before getting out of the car.
“How will I know which one is Wraith?”
“Believe me; you’ll know,” he answered, getting out of the car and motioning for Mica to get out, too.
Walking forward, Kent drew to a stop before he reached the motorcycles. Neither of the two men sitting on the bikes got off.
Feeling Mica come to his side, he could practically smell the fear coming off the nervous man.
“Wraith,” Kent greeted the president of the Phantoms.
“Creed. Been a while.”
“Yes, it has.”
Indolently, Wraith rose from his bike. Kent noticed Wraith hadn’t changed physically since he had last seen him four years ago. At six foot three, they were the same height, yet Wraith had a more muscular build, and his features hinted at the cruelty he was capable of.
Kent looked toward the other man as he stood, coming to stand next to Wraith.
“How you been doing, Sandman?”
“Terrific.”
If the Grim Reaper had a physical body, Kent imagined it would describe Sandman. The Phantom’s enforcer’s ominous presence would make anyone he came into contact with worry if they were right with God. When you looked into his dark brown eyes, you would swear they were as black as his soul. He was a couple inches taller than Wraith, and his body wasn’t as muscular, yet Kent had seen him fight three men at once using movements that had sent his opponents broken to the floor, wondering what had happened.
Side by side, they looked dangerous and intimidating. Together, they looked as if the gates of hell were about to open.
Out of the corner his eye, he saw Mica look as if was about to piss himself, if he hadn’t already.
Kent almost smiled at the fear on his client’s expression. Mica was watching Wraith respectfully, easily recognizing the power the man exuded.
“I expected you to bring Freddy.” Kent narrowed his eyes at the old factory.
“I expected Jackal.” Wraith shrugged. “I guess we’re both surprised.”
He wasn’t going to be side-tracked. “Where’s Freddy?”
Wraith lifted his brows. “Where’s Jackal?”
He had better things to do than engaging in a pissing match with Wraith.
“Fine.” Conceding that they each had someone out of sight watching their backs was a given, he turned toward Mica.
“Where’s the phone?”
Mica reached into his pocket to take out the disposable cell phone.
“Pull up the account you want the money deposited into,” he instructed Mica.
Kent saw the amusement on Wraith and Sandman’s faces at Mica’s shaking hand as he keyed the numbers into the overseas account he had set up for the buy.
“Give me the phone.”
Mica was so nervous he practically threw the phone at him. Sweat was beaded on his forehead.
Jesus. This guy was an accident waiting to happen. He could see now why Ice had pulled him into the transaction—to protect his own interests and to keep this goober from getting killed.
Palming the phone, he carried it to Wraith and handed it over.
After keying in a series of numbers then filling in the amount, Wraith gave the phone back. Kent walked back to Mica and handed him the phone.
“You good with that?” he asked.
Mica cleared his throat before answering. “Yes.” His voice came out sounding like a squeak.
“Then press Accept,” Kent instructed him.
Mica raised fearful eyes to his, shot them to Wraith, then back to his. “What about the necklace?”
Wraith’s arms crossed over his chest. “What about what necklace?” he asked silkily.
Mica wasn’t as stupid as Kent thought; he was covering his ass.
Kent took the flower necklace out of his pocket, letting it dangle from his fingers.
“Why wasn’t it in the bag?” Wraith’s stoic expression didn’t change.
“My cut,” he answered, placing the necklace back in his pocket.
“Ice is the one paying you, not me. Put the necklace in the bag.”
“No. The necklace is worth about ten grand, which covers the time it took me to boot Sarge out of my car.”
A cold smile played around Wraith’s lips. “You must be slipping if it took you that long to recognize Sarge as one of my men.”
“Brody is a Phantom?” Mica asked hoarsely, his gaze switching back and forth from him to Wraith.