Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Sure.” I pull off a nonchalant act, even though I want to pull out a Glock and see how he likes being shot at.
“So, if you’ll just let us take a look around your property, we’ll leave you be.” Walker’s casual, pulling the ol’ we trust you but want to make sure the bad guy isn’t doing bad things that you’re unaware of thing. We’re in no way accusing you of anything, but really, we are.
I act confused. “You … want to look around my property?”
“Yes.”
My lips on one side turn up. “Okay, now I’m thinking this whole Rodriguez line is a ruse. He’s been trying to get dirt on me for years, and this sounds really convenient to me.”
“That’s not what this is,” Walker says. “We know you’re untouchable. We really are just looking for Rodriguez.”
“You’ll forgive me for not taking your word on that. Good luck finding a judge who’ll sign a warrant to search anything I own. I’m sorry I can’t help you. If Rodriguez does show his face, which I think we all know he won’t with how much he despises me, I’ll be sure to give you a call. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Walker glares at me, but Evans politely says, “Thank you for your time.”
On their way back to the car, I hear Evans say, “He’s probably right. Dylan hates that guy.”
Walker grumbles something I can’t hear, and then they’re gone, but I wouldn’t put it past them to be waiting out the front in case they think I’m lying.
And now, after having Walker show up with his team and trying to pin some crime on Dylan, it’s time for Operation Rogue to begin.
Chapter Five
Dylan
“This is extreme,” I say as Trav opens the trunk to his Range Rover and tells me to get in. “Actually, I get the impression this is more to fulfill some sort of kidnapping fantasy you have of me.”
Trav looks like he’s trying not to smile. “Not true. All of my fantasies about you are consensual. In fact, in nearly all of them, you’re begging for my cock again.”
“Please, we hooked up once. A billion years ago. For a quickie in a bathroom stall at that. Your dick is barely memorable.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Now, get in.”
I eye the trunk. It’s spacious, at least. “How long do I have to stay in there?”
“Until I’m sure we’re not being followed by the man who’s trying to kill you. Want me to go get a pillow? Maybe a blankie and a book to read?”
“Fuck you.” I climb in.
“You cursing me out is starting to hold less conviction. That’s the first step toward admitting you like me.”
Why did I turn to this jackass again?
Oh, right. Life in danger, boss is dirty, my whole world imploding before my eyes.
This is better than dying. This is better than dying.
Granted, not that much better, but … better.
“Here’s a new phone you can play with. I downloaded Candy Crush for you and everything.” He hands me a brand-new iPhone—latest model.
“What about my burner phone?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’re going to need to destroy that. If they saw you go into that store and buy it, there’s a chance they could track the serial number. This one is completely untraceable. At least, they won’t be able to connect you with it.”
I definitely came to the right place. I take it out of my pocket and give it to him. “Wow, it’s like you’ve got experience hiding fugitives.” Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
He throws the phone on the ground and stomps on it. “Nah. I’m just smarter than you.” Trav doesn’t let me clap back before he shuts me in the trunk.
I might owe him my life, but I still hate him. Ish.
We get on the road, and I’m jostled around so much I regret not taking the pillow and blanket option even if he was being a condescending twat.
After about twenty minutes, Trav hits a pothole, and I get flung into the air, hitting my head on the trunk partition.
“Ow,” I call out.
The phone Trav gave me starts ringing, and when I lift it, a photo of Trav and the name “Future Husband” fill the screen.
I hit Answer. “Really?”
“Is that directed at my terrible driving or what I saved my number under?”
“Both. Are you purposefully trying to hurt me?”
“Again, which thing is that directed at?”
“How much longer until you can get me out of here?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. What if CCTV captures you in the passenger seat? Maybe it’s safer if you stay back there.”
“Why are you the way that you are?” I growl.
“Fine. If you want to risk it, I guess you can pop the seat in front of you and crawl through to the back seat. But keep your head down.”