Page 10 of The Reluctant Hero

Where is it?

I can feel the panicked, cold sweat rolling down my temples. I search the basement again. Forcing myself to go slow doesn’t help worth a damn.

Annette texts me, but I don’t have any patience for that whore right now. She thinks because Amanda left I have a vacancy in my life as if I would marry her instead.

Amanda was more useful than she will ever be. She kept the house clean, was a good cook, and never asked questions. Total subservience—perfect.

Until now.

Where thefuckis it?

If that box of pictures gets out, I’m screwed in more ways than one. My face isn’t in any of them, so I won’t be identifiable. The women, though. People are looking for some of them. The hideaway is in the background of every damn photo too. One step into those rooms and it will be clear that the women are there.

Fuck!

What do I do? I can’t confess to missing photos I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t resist having the pictures taken. My trophies. All gone.

I yell in frustration and start taking it out on the random boxes of shit down here. Why hasn’t Amanda cleaned this pigsty?

Because she lost her mind and left, that’s why.

Another fuck up.

They’re starting to pile up, and I can’t counteract the tide.

Once I’m finished venting, I catch my breath and make a decision. I can only call one person about this. Someone that would be just as invested in finding the damn photos as I am. She’s in some of them, after all.

The phone rings twice before she picks up.

“Hello, Justin,” Gloria says in a quiet purr.

The bitch might be old as the hills, but she fucks like a dream.

“Problem,” I return in a no-nonsense tone.

“Oh?” She taunts me in one word, making my teeth grind. This uppity bitch needs to be taken down two notches. But I need her right now.

“The photos are missing.”

The silence that follows is filled with tension.

“That’s not good,” she says in a mild but strained tone.

“No shit,” I deadpan back.

“You had them in a lockbox?”

I wince and look around the dank basement.

“My basement.”

“In a sealed box, right?” Her tone turns angry in a blink.

“Would I be calling you if they were?” I snap back.

“You uttermoron.”

I want to bite back, but I restrain myself. She can insult me as much as she likes. Once I have those photos back, I can force her to bend over backward for me. Hers were for blackmail material anyway. Andshe’sthe moron for letting me take them.

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