Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” Molly turns her focus on me. “Oh, Iris, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown. When did you get your braces off?”
“Last summer.” Without thinking, I run my tongue along the top of my teeth.
“What a lovely young lady you are now.” She smiles, but I look down at the floor.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rinehart.” I keep my voice appreciative, but inside my stomach is churning.
“Isn’t she pretty, Brock?” she calls out, and I snap my head up in time to see Brock make his entrance. He’s tucking his phone into his pocket as he walks up beside his mom and looks me over.
“She is.” Brock winks at me, and I feel my hands sweating.
His wavy blond hair is perfectly styled, and he looks like he could be on the cover of some kind of country club magazine. He’s wearing a classic pale blue polo shirt paired with khakis, and I wonder if his mom dressed him too. As much as I’d like to deny it, he is handsome. But he knows it, and that makes it so much worse.
Every girl in our social circle whispers about Brock. As connected as my mom is, I can't believe she hasn’t heard all the rumors. If she did it would be gross that she’s trying to set me up with the entitled jerk. He’s slept with half the country club, including a few moms if the rumors are to be believed. Why would she set me up with someone who has a terrible reputation?
“Come in.” Mom steps back, giving them room to enter the house. “Iris, why don’t you show Brock to the garden where we’re set up? The roses are in full bloom right now.”
“I’d love to see it.” He smirks at me.
He doesn't give a crap about the roses, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t do anything to upset my mother or disrupt this perfect day she has planned.
“Of course, let me show you the way.” When I turn toward the patio and begin walking, I feel him quickly catch up with me. When he puts his arm along my back, I tense.
“Relax,” he says. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“I don’t.” I step to the side to open the sliding glass door and keep my distance so he can’t touch me again.
“You virgins are always so uptight,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
“No we’re not,” I say, but then regret the words immediately. I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him of anything because it’s pointless.
He pulls a flask out of his pocket and takes a swig before offering it to me.
“No thanks.”
“See, uptight.” He takes another drink before putting the flask back in his pocket. “Now let's go see this rose garden.” He licks his lips, and his eyes linger on my cleavage. “Maybe some are ripe for the picking.”
It takes me a moment to catch his innuendo, and my face flushes. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I walk ahead and try not to let it show.
I’m starting to think my mom might actually hate me.
Chapter Two
DUTCH
Train is still the best way to get around without too many prying eyes or people asking questions. It’s also the easiest way to travel without giving too much information. Information that can easily be faked with the right credentials.
Most of my work is done overseas, but a call two months ago brought me back to the States. I had to travel by boat because chartering a private plane raises suspicions, and I always stay under the radar. In my line of work I have to be discreet; otherwise I’m not very good at my job.
Bronson Dian is a German baron who sells the materials used in making space satellites. He’s also tied to the Russian mob, which is how I came to meet him. Fifteen years ago Bronson’s young daughter was kidnapped from her bed in the middle of the night and was never seen or heard from again. She was presumed dead because anyone taking her would have used her as leverage for a ransom.
Bronson and his wife Freida reached out to some of my contacts as a last resort to find her. They still believe she was alive, even when everyone told them she was most likely dead. Otherwise they would have had evidence in the last fifteen years proving she was somewhere in the world.
After years of working as a freelance gun for hire, I’ve developed a reputation as someone who takes on odd jobs if they interest me. Normally I would have turned this down, but when my contact at the Bratva told me the story, I couldn’t help my own curiosity.
The Dians were almost royalty in Germany, and as far as the media was concerned they could do no wrong. I knew Bronson’s ties went deep with the work he did, which was why he was able to ask for this last-ditch help. I met with them at a hotel in Prague, and they told me the story. I promised nothing when I left that night, but the story wouldn’t leave my mind.