Page 2 of Enforcer

“I have more pressing matters before me,” he says.

I gasp, feigning shock. “Me? Pressing? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. I don’t know if I like it.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his walkie sounds again. “John! Come in!”

“Goddamnit, they can’t do shit without radioing me every fucking second of the day,” he mumbles, trekking back over to a small, metal building and snatching the walkie off his desk.

“What?!”

“The boss is expecting someone. Alyssa Roebach. Let her through when she gets here.”

The guard eyes me narrowly. “Name?”

I grin. “Alyssa Roebach.”

“Too convenient, princess. Give me some I.D.”

“Seriously?” I grumble as I grab my Michael Kors off the seat beside me and rummage through the mess of cards in my wallet that I can’t be bothered to put away. Ever.

Finally, I find my license and hand it over to Mr. Dickhead.

He nods, speaking into the walkie-talkie as he hands my ID back to me. “She’s on her way to you,” he says.

“Ten-four,” comes the reply.

He puts the walkie back and stomps to my car in three giant steps, leaning back into my window.

“You’re going to follow the drive about half a mile, and don’t stray from it. We know how long it takes you to get to the door. Another guard will meet you when you arrive.”

“Alright, thank you. Pleasure doing business with you,” I tell him curtly, ignoring his overwhelming presence and closing my window, not giving him enough time to get out of it as it goes up.

A loud beep sounds as he hits a button from his shack of power, and the gate slides to the left.

Where the fuck am I, and what has Brynne gotten herself into?

True to Mr. Dickhead’s word, there’s another guard at the entrance, shifting from heel to toe in his boots as he waits for me to park and get out.

I toss my bag over my shoulder, lock my car with the fob, and march to him.

My heels click on the cobblestone drive, and I try to keep out of the grouted cracks.

“I’m here to see Brynne Howard,” I tell the man, and his answering smirk has meaning buried in it, but I can’t figure out what the hell it could be.

“Right this way, Ms. Roebach.”

“Ms. Roebach? I like that,” I tease, but he doesn’t break character.

Tough crowd.

The man leads me inside the massive mansion, and I take in everything I can as he opens a door beside the base of the giant stairs, standing aside so I can go in.

I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck is going on when I spot Brynne pacing before a massive desk that looks like it costs as much as Bernice had.

She turns toward me as I open my mouth to overload her with questions, and my eyes rake over her appearance.

She looks dirty and tired. Purple rings her eyes. The most alarming thing, however, is the blood spotting her face.

I drop my bag and rush her, ghosting my hands over her face as I don’t want to smudge whatever evidence is fresh on her skin.

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