Page 2 of Lord of Debauchery

“Two.”

He didn’t move a muscle, the dude just maintaining his smile.

“Pronto conocerás a tu creador,” the gang member hissed.

“Three.” I stepped back, giving the guy a grin of my own before spraying his body with bullets. As he slowly slid to the floor, blood covering the brick wall, I sighed. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Nah, boss,” Jeff said. “You’re wild and young.”

I threw him a look.

“What the fuck did the dude say at the end?” Camden Wallace, my senior in command of the troops asked.

I lowered my weapon and turned around. Information wasn’t going to be forthcoming. Well, shit. It was early, still late afternoon. We could afford a little time to ourselves. “He said ‘soon, you’ll meet your maker.’ Looks like he beat us to it. Let’s go have a goddamn drink.”

CHAPTER 2

Kenya

“No, make that three dozen muffins, two dozen cupcakes, and at least six to eight crullers.” I was checking my guest list for the next week several times. Between the coffee and water order that I still needed to make, the list was ongoing. And the wine order. That could wait until the morning, even though it would be a Saturday. At least with no guests this weekend, I could relax. Enjoy the hot tub. Take a walk. Drink way too many glasses of wine.

And read a book.

I couldn’t remember the last time since I’d indulged myself. Not in my former life and certainly not since purchasing and remodeling the fabulous B & B in Maine. It was a dream come true, especially leaving the big city life.

As well as my big city job title and paycheck.

While I also owned a little house in the woods not too far away, this spectacular location was nestled against the Atlantic Ocean, the views magnificent and the setting peaceful. It was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

To think, my bitch of an ex best friend had mentioned the place was for sale. Had I known she’d had an ulterior motive, maybe I wouldn’t have made an offer so quickly. Now it was all mine.

Well, mine and the bank’s.

Cringing, I was hopeful the upcoming tourist season would bring in more clientele. If not, well, at least I could always sell the place. I rolled my eyes. Now that the real estate market had adjusted, I’d take a loss.

Going bankrupt wasn’t so bad on one’s record these days. Was it?

I felt a bead of perspiration trickling down one side of my face. If only I could get a good night’s sleep. That would help my surly mood. Something had to.

Groaning, I dropped my head into my hands. There I went again. Suzy Naysayer, as my mother always called me.

Janie tapped her pen on her notepad, which I acknowledged somewhere in the back of my scattered mind yet didn’t respond. She finally cleared her throat. “Earth to my best friend.”

I snapped up my head, noticing her friendly but stilted glare. “I was doing it again. Wasn’t I?” She’d become my best friend almost from the day I’d stumbled into her bakery with a growling stomach and a piss-poor attitude given the real estate agent had lied to me and hadn’t seemed interested in showing me the place after I’d driven all the way from New York City.

Wine had appeared before four o’clock in the afternoon. A woman after my own heart.

“Yes, you were.” She slid her pad onto the counter, moving toward the bottle of wine. “That’s why I brought reinforcements.”

“Wine?”

“Of course, darling. What else can bring you out of your doldrums? I’ll have you know this is one of the finest merlots produced in Maine.”

I had to admit the wine was looking damn good. I watched as she skillfully opened it. “How come you own a bakery instead of a restaurant? You’re a trained chef and sommelier, for God’s sake.” She knew more about wines than anyone I’d ever met, and her knife skills were terrifying. The woman could be a serial killer if she desired to change professions.

Janie Crouch was one tough woman in addition to everything else. She’d been to every continent hiking in her twenties, determined to conquer the world.

Meanwhile, I’d just attempted to conquer Wall Street. As if I thought landing a job in the Big Apple was far enough removed from my brutal family. Fortunately, once dear old Daddy had learned I was soiled he’d been more content to leave me alone.

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