Midnight Vengeance Read Free Page B

Alfonso’s death had put a serious crimp in Frederick’s plan to sock away five million in the Caymans before forty.
    “Give me your report,” Jorge said sullenly, slurring the words. With a sigh, Frederick complied, knowing that Jorge understood one word in ten. Concepts such as bitcoins, Tor, arbitrage, currency conversion flew right over his head.
    Only one thing mattered to Jorge—Anne Lowell.
    Jorge had somehow got it into his head that if Anne Lowell died, everything would become his. Magical thinking, of course. Anne Lowell would certainly never leave anything to Jorge in a will. Jorge had no concept of the legal issues pertaining to estates and succession. Somewhere in his drug-addled mind, a dead Anne Lowell equaled a magical return to prosperity.
    Frederick did nothing to disabuse him of the notion. An obsessed Jorge was going to pay the monthly retainer forever, though he had no clue how to do that online. It was strictly cash, in a satchel. Frederick had upped his price to 50K a month and had stopped looking very hard. He’d found Anne Lowell. Twice. It wasn’t his fault Jorge was an idiot.
    In college, majoring in computer programming, Frederick had had to take a course in creative writing and had been unexpectedly good at it. He loved movies and often thought he had the makings of a decent scriptwriter in him. Lately he’d been observing Jorge and his antics, thinking he could turn the situation into one of those tragicomic TV series everyone loved so much, like
Breaking Bad
.
    Jorge and his minions trying to be crime lords, but fucking everything up. Frederick even had a title for the series.
Code Name: Moron.
    It was so annoying, being paid in cash. The bills were probably all laced with cocaine. Jorge pushed the satchel of cash over to him and then fixed baleful bloodshot eyes on Frederick. “You find the bitch yet?”
    “I’ve found her twice for you,” Frederick said, as he’d said many times before. “And both times your goons botched it.”
    Either she was very, very clever or very, very lucky. Twice they’d killed the wrong girl. Now she’d completely disappeared.
    And he’d stopped prioritizing her. Let Jorge stew in his juices.
    Jorge pounded a fist on the desktop. He was sweating like a pig. The side of his fist left a sweatprint. “Find that bitch! Find her now!” Jorge’s attempt at being tough was beyond pitiful. “I’ll give you a bonus if you find her before May 1.”
    Yeah, right.
    Still, something was very wrong. Frederick had heard rumors that Jorge was deep in the hole with some very bad guys. Alfonso had left some well-run businesses but Jorge was crapping all over everything around him. He couldn’t get it out of his head that finding Anne Lowell and killing her would—poof!—make all his troubles disappear.
    Jorge was a cretin who wanted to run with the big boys and was in way over his head. Not that Frederick gave a fuck. He planned on cashing in 50K a month until someone smoked Jorge.
    A dead Anne Lowell was not going to solve any of Jorge’s problems. But Frederick wasn’t about to say that.
    Frederick would find Anne Lowell again, sooner or later, though he wasn’t putting any effort into it. Who cared? As long as he was being paid, Frederick would keep at it on a low-level priority basis. Nobody could hide forever in a country with fifty million surveillance cameras.
    Pity. Anne Lowell was, by all accounts, a charming, kind young woman who didn’t deserve getting whacked by a lowlife like Jorge.
    But hey.

Chapter Two
    Portland
    This is a big mistake,
Lauren Dare thought. A huge, potentially disastrous mistake.
    The show was as terrifying as she’d thought it would be. Why oh
why
had she accepted Suzanne’s invitation?
    Lauren sighed. She knew why. Because Suzanne had insisted so strongly and just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Because Suzanne had threatened to simply cancel the show if Lauren wouldn’t at least show up. No matter that the show was