Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
My security system chimes again on my phone. That would be Connie, my second-in-command after Marcus. She sometimes handles small runs with her own crew, and this is our weekly get-together to look at future jobs.
She doesn’t come through the house the way Marcus did but rather around the side yard. “Figured you boys would be out here enjoying the sunset.”
I’ve known Connie Modesto since my days living on the street and boosting cars to make a living. She came from the same school of hard knocks that I did, except she’s managed to avoid prison, unlike me.
She’s wearing an old, beat-up leather jacket that she’s had since I first met her. Her dark hair is loose rather than the rope braid she wears while on the water.
She drops into the chair opposite Marcus and kicks her booted feet onto the table. I don’t bother to correct her because manners aren’t all that important to me.
“Everything set for tonight?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah… we have a midnight meet time.”
“I can do it for you,” she says.
“I know you can, but I need to go. He’s insisting on me.”
This new proprietor of illegally moved fine art will look to acquire more, and he wants to check me out. Which is fine.
“I can go with you,” she offers, crossing one ankle over the other. “Keep you company.”
“No thanks.” I have a few reasons for declining the offer, the most important of which is the danger involved. A close but secondary reason is to keep a bit of arm’s length with Connie. She can sometimes get clingy with me and while she’s one of my oldest friends, I’m not into her that way.
“Why?” she asks and Marcus shifts uncomfortably.
“Because I said so,” I reply, my jaw set in a hard line.
She considers that, shifting a glance at Marcus before shrugging nonchalantly. “Fine.”
The sun has almost fully dipped now, and the patio heaters keep us comfortable.
“Finn sent the woman we fished out of the drink flowers today,” Marcus says casually, and my head whips his way. I shoot him a death glare but he pretends not to notice.
Connie sits up straight, boots slapping on the patio. “You sent her flowers, Finn?”
“None of your business, Connie,” I warn.
But she’s not put off in the slightest. She leans toward me, slapping my knee and not in a playful way. “You pulled a federal asset out of the water—”
“She’s not a federal agent,” I grumble.
“You send flowers to a woman looking to take down smugglers—which is what we do, by the way—and you don’t think this is a problem?”
“Connie—”
“No,” she snaps, standing up and looming over me. “You shot at one of Voronin’s men while you were pulling this woman out of the water, which put you, Marcus, The Quartermaster, the painting in our hold, and our entire operation in danger. And then you sent her flowers, which invites a relationship. Did I miss anything?”
“That’s about the gist of it,” I say dryly.
Connie points her finger at me. “You should have left her in the water.”
I’ve had enough and this shit’s going to stop right now. “Apparently I have a different moral compass than you, Connie.” My tone is dry, sardonic and pointed before it hardens. “I couldn’t let an innocent person die and if that brings shit down on us, so be it. But more importantly, I’m your boss and you don’t get to lecture me on decisions that affect this business.”
She holds my eyes for a long moment, and I can see she doesn’t want to let this go. But then she leans down, picks up my scotch and downs the rest of it.
It’s a message. A way for her to be defiant and intimate at the same time.
I swallow down the anger and decide to let it go. “How about we get down to business, then you two get the hell out of here so I can take a short nap before my midnight run?”
“Works for me,” Marcus says, clearly glad to have the tension defused.
The security system chimes, followed by the doorbell ringing, just as Connie lowers herself back down into the chair.
Marcus and I exchange a look. Who the hell could that be?
I don’t have friends and Marcus and Connie are the only two members of my crew who’ve ever been invited here.
Delivery?
I pull up my security app, tap on the front door camera intent to tell them to leave the package, and I’m stunned by what I see.
Josie McAdams on my front porch.
There’s no denying that my first reaction is an undeniable flash of pleasure that she sought me out, which pretty much ensures that I’m going to pursue something with her. I push away the small measure of restraint, knowing that this woman could mean trouble for me.
“Who is it?” Connie asks.