AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’ll lose it the moment you enter the guarded garage.”
“Perfect.”
“I’m going to ask you a question. It’ll be the most important question you ever answer.”
I pushed back my chair and crossed my legs. “All right.”
“Is she worth it?”
My head hit the cushion of the chair, bouncing ever so slightly, a smile pulling at my fucking lips. “Hell yes.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he said, and the phone went dead.
David
You fucking asshole, you leave her in that house like a prisoner. You’ve got some nerve.
Me
Go fuck yourself.
Bale’s description of the garage had been accurate, which I learned the moment I approached the gate. It was located on the first floor of the high-rise, where there was an armed guard at the entrance. I gave him my name and showed identification, and he instructed me to park in spot 107 on the east side of the lot. From there, Bale’s instructions were to get out of my car, lock it, and come to spot 162 on the west side of the lot.
There were no windows in the garage, no access to the outside, except for the entrance I’d just come through. One of the reasons, I assumed, Bale had chosen this spot. Unless David killed the guard, there was no way he could get in here.
The only thing I’d brought with me from my house was my phone, and I had been told to leave that in my car. So, that was what I did as I climbed out, locked up, and walked to the opposite side of the large space, passing all the rows of vehicles.
The numbers hung from the ceiling, making it easy to find 162, where a black Suburban with tinted windows was parked. As I approached, I heard the locks. I took that as a signal that Bale was unlocking the passenger door. To check if I was right, that was the side I went to, wrapping my fingers around the wide handle, the door instantly becoming ajar.
He looked down at me from the driver’s seat. “Brady …”
I took in his black hair, blue eyes, and thick beard; my first thought was that he didn’t look like a killer.
But who does?
“Bale,” I said as I climbed in, shaking his hand.
There was a timer glued to the dashboard. One that we would have used in high school when we were running sprints. He hit the side of it, and a countdown of four minutes was underway.
“That’s how long you’re giving me?” I asked.
“In my line of work, time is crucial. It must match up perfectly. Four minutes is two minutes longer than I gave my last client. If you have questions, you’d better start asking them.”
I didn’t know what to expect from this conversation. Dominick hadn’t told me much about Bale or his personality or how the process worked.
The beginning sounded like the best place, so I said, “What’s the first step?”
He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, removing a small envelope, and he handed it to me. “In there is my fee and where I need you to take the cash.”
I began to lift the corner flap.
He said, “Do you really want to waste time looking at that information? You have three minutes left. Given that money is the least of your concern, why don’t you focus on more pressing matters?”
He had a point.
I didn’t know if I liked that about him or hated it.
“How are you going to do it?”
