Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“What about Kanin’s house?” I asked, unwilling to look at the schematic just yet. “Why don’t we try that one? Besides, the chances of him being at work after dark are pretty slim, aren’t they?”
“His house is in Centennial Hills,” Julian interjected. “It’s not that far from the city, but it’s a magnet for rich CEOs like Kanin. Security vans patrol the streets twenty-four-seven, not to mention cop presence is strong in the area.”
“Then, how are we going to get him?” Matteo asked, his voice louder than usual. “You just said we can’t pay him a visit during working hours.”
“Yeah. We need a hook,” Rocco concluded, eyeing me and then Matteo. “That’s where his son Graham comes in. You see, Graham’s a fucking sex maniac. He parties with hookers almost every day. I’ll go over to Neon Tassels; it’s a strip club just on Vegas Boulevard and hire a couple of strippers. They won’t come cheap, and they won’t like it, but when money talks…”
“Bullshit walks,” I finished his sentence. “So, we kidnap Graham to lure Howard into his company building? That’s the plan? What about his men? He must have a security detail.”
“They won’t lift a finger, man,” Rocco answered, his face stiff. “Engaging us will put Graham’s life in jeopardy and Howard knows that. Julian and Slater will get you in the building. When you’re in, wait for me. Any questions?”
Silence followed Rocco’s last words.
To me, everything was nice and simple.
I rose back up on my feet and offered him my hand for a handshake. To my satisfaction, there was no hesitation on his part. He shook hands with me, for once not eyeing me like I was a worthless piece of shit.
“Be prepared for anything and everything, Borelli,” he advised. “Those sons of bitches are ruthless. If you’re not ready to pull the fucking trigger, you’d better keep out of this.”
“We’re ready as ever,” I assured, my thumb pressing into the side of his palm.
“Good,” he praised with a nod. “We leave tomorrow morning. Be here at seven. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. No planes. Kanin’s got people at airports all over the country. We don’t want them to tip him off about our visit.”
I turned away from Rocco, Julian and Slater, a sense of optimism rising within me. We were going to come face-to-face with the man who wanted our heads on a silver platter. Of course, about a million things could go wrong during that operation. But, this time, my boys and I wouldn’t be alone. We’d have experience on our side and twice the manpower. Deep down, I hoped that these two factors would be enough to help us stay alive. To help us get rid of the threat on our lives for good.
33
PIPER
I’m sending a couple of bodyguards over to your place to pick you up. Pack a bag. You’ll be staying with me for a few days.
I blinked rapidly after reading Maggie’s text.
At first, I considered texting her back to state my surprise. We had gone from hardly seeing each other to roommates. How? Besides, shouldn’t she have asked me first? I wasn’t some kid she could order around. I was her friend.
However, it took me about two minutes to realize that this couple of sentences made all the sense in the world. Maggie wasn’t a barmaid anymore. She was a millionaire. She had become one of the city’s most prominent benefactors. If there was one person in New York capable of protecting me, it was her. I could have no doubt about that.
Stacking up clothing items in my brown suitcase, I couldn’t help but smile at one of fate’s whims. Not so long ago, Maggie was buying me drinks at her bar, all the while complaining about not being able to practice law. We’d go over her life story every once in a while, trying to determine where she had gone wrong. Those conversations usually ended with laughs and some more alcohol. I’d tell her something like: “Don’t worry, honey. Good things are coming to you. Trust me. I know.” She would then dismiss me with a sad smile and rub the top of my head. This was her way of telling me “thanks for being there, but I know you’re making this up to help me feel good about myself.” Now, Maggie Owens was a mother and had enough money to buy my entire block.
Though I’d been to her Brownstone in Brooklyn, I’d never seen the mansion her biological father had owned. It was in Sands Point, well away from Manhattan. Located near the beach, its iron gate opened into a wide driveway, lined with palm trees. Each of those had to be over sixty feet tall. I saw dozens of leaf needles on the lawn as her limo rolled to a gentle halt close to her front door. Right in front of it, Maggie had her baby girl in her arms. Little Emily was so cute. She had red, chubby cheeks and short curly hair. Her mother had her hand across her stomach as the child stared at me with her index finger in her mouth.