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In the donut shop, Andrew West sat on a hard stool at the end of a worn Formica counter and ordered another coffee, this one to go. Cinnamon collided with the sharp tang of bleach as the waitress wiped the counter beside him.
Outside, traffic built up. While a half-moon poked through the clouds, he eyed the woman heading into the store next door. Anticipation nipped his skin. She’d be dead by sunset. Sweet retribution.
Thanks to Nathan’s unlimited resources, including the use of his helicopter, Andrew could keep a step ahead of the reporter. Of course, knowing where she’d be every minute came in handy. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name. The thought of her was like vomit on his tongue.
How could a jury have believed her lies? Her bullshit helped put his father behind bars.
Her lies had forced his father to kill himself.
She’d said his old man was a dirty cop, implicated him in the theft of millions of dollars’ worth of cocaine from the Miami-Dade evidence-storage facility, and accused him of selling the drugs on the street.
His father had been set up. He wasn’t a thief or a drug dealer. He was hardworking man who’d dedicated his life to protect others.
Andrew heard she had gotten a friggin’ award.
And his father? A wooden box.
From the get-go, Andrew’s plan was simple. Take out everyone the woman cared about…