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Ross stood there with his mouth hanging open for several bloody heartbeats. He squinted and he stared. He must be drunker than he thought. Regardless he put his father’s Desert Eagle down. His heart pounded sickeningly. He could have obliterated the very beautiful female lying fast asleep with his pillow between her legs, easy as breathing.
Damn it, she was real. Not some mirage cooked up in his whiskey-addled head. He uttered an oath that would have made his redneck relations proud.
Just what in the hell…
Ross didn’t stand there long. He already had his man. He stumbled from the room and grabbed his phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. With shaking fingers he dialed a number. The line rang out. Of course it did.We’re sorry! The number you have dialed…
“Manny, you son of a bitch!” He growled.
Ross scraped a hand through his hair and paced the room, every ten seconds glancing down at the girl, who didn’t magically disappear. She slept like she was in her own bedroom. Ross got hold of himself and knelt on the edge of the bed. He shook her roughly. Yep, she was real alright. Real as life.
“Hey!”
She mumbled, “Shut your bitch ass up.”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing in my house! Hey!”
What the fuck had been her name? Angie? Ross realized shaking her wasn’t going to work. He slapped her gently, but that didn’t work either. What now? Poke her with a shoe?
How thefuckhad they got her in here?
In Ross’s closet a panel on the wall opened to show the different views of his security cameras. He rewound the footage. When Mangjeol’s face appeared suddenly in the screen, he jumped. Manny looked very amused with himself— in whatever way it was possible for Mangjeol to look amused. His face filled the screen. With the smirk Ross remembered from their Kappa-Alpha days, Manny waved. What a crazy son of a bitch. Manny held up a yellow manila envelope. Ross cut to the living room cameras and saw Manny slip it under the cushion of the Jean-Christophe couch, exactly where Ross had been sitting just moments before, drowning his woes about Tina with whiskey.
After gently patting the Silfaka Leather back into place, Mangjeol calmly left through the front door, re-armed the security system, and walked down the driveway at a leisurely stride. Lights at the bottom indicated a parked car was waiting for him.
Ross paused then, listening. His ears strained through the semi-darkness for any other sound. He would have to sweep this room for cameras later. Who knew what kind of freak game Manny was playing?
Sweat gathered on Ross’s neck. He backtracked through more footage, but the cameras went black. Like a mastermind thief, Manny had wiped the feed showing him and his minions moving the girl into the house. It was in that moment Ross realized that maybe Roman had a point about upgrading his home security. There were other homes along the track back down to the main road with cameras that might serve him better, but Ross was in no position to draw attention to himself by calling on his neighbor.
Now what? He tried Manny’s number again to the same results. In his consternation he nearly dialed Quinton. Quite possibly the worst friend one could hope for in a dire circumstance after the Florin PD.
The girl was pretty just like Manny said. She had slanted eyes and a button mouth. Her face was dainty as a doll’s. Her hair was thick, so thick it looked like she must never contain it. It floated in the slow drifts from the air conditioning.
She only wore a white silk teddy. It was extremely revealing. The front of it dipped between her titties and showed the smooth and flawless chocolate brown color that darkened prettily in the middle. What color were her nipples? Would they be red, or a deeper brown, like cocoa? Urge to pull it down and see…
Her disproportionate titties were nothing, though, to the smooth round curve of her ass. Ross’s jaw slackened. Jesus. Manny was right— exactly his type.Exactly.
He fixated on the teddy again, his inherent good taste recognizing the maker. What a nice touch. Perhaps he ought to thank Manny— after he killed him.
Cursing, he went to the living room to search for the envelope, but not before grimly twitching the sheet back over his sleeping guest because she looked cold.
Ross went to find the envelope. Bitter and ugly thoughts raged through his head. By God! If he ever saw Manny again he’d beat the bastard senseless. Then he’d kill him. He’d thank him, beat him, then kill him.
No, he wouldn’t thank him.
Just kill him.
Ross flung the cushion off his expensive couch. Something across the room shattered. He grabbed the manila envelope and returned to his room, breathing through his teeth. Should he call Roman?
Are you simple? Roman’s
The envelope was suspiciously light.
He set it down and refreshed himself with more whiskey. Under the dimly-pulsing halogen he shredded open the top of the manila envelope and dumped out the papers it contained.
One of them caught his eye immediately because his name was on it. ROSS MCCALL, spelled in Mangjeol’s immaculate handwriting. Ross had not expected a written confession. He read grimly,
DEAR ROSS,
