Page 88 of Waiting Forever
I kept that promise even when Prescott’s big swinging dick attorneys—provided by his dad—cockblocked the video, claiming it was the rantings of an inebriated man and doesn’t prove he did or paid for anything. An equally dickish judge declared the footage inadmissible to the case against Prescott.
Now, I’m doing the only thing I can: sitting in my condo, hopeless and helpless, while festering in my rage.
Like hell I am!
Dad didn’t raise a pussy, and as a young man, I wager I can get away with stuff grown men/veterans and former SEALs can’t. Which is why, in honor of Kensi, our dads, and the rage festering within, I’m bringing a little fist-to-face justice to Prescott’s front door.
Kensi doesn’t know the real reason why I’m in Dallas. We’d only been living in the condo for two days when I told her I had to leave for work. She didn’t ask many questions, too distracted by the move—which happened quickly thanks to professional packers hired by the firm. Still, there is plenty left to do, but Kensi loves it.
My mission is toact first and ask for forgiveness later.Preferably, when I’m home and Kensi is snuggled up in my arms. If she knew what I was about to do, she’d be terrified I’d get caught.
Not going to happen.
I have a team of bodyguards and trained professionals willing to help me execute my plan. I also have help from her friend, Isa. No one will be able to point a finger at us.
Kensi spoke with Isa after she handcuffed me to her wrist and to my delight persuaded me into taking her for a fourth time in less than twelve hours. Hell, less than six.
Once again, Kensi had been correct. We fit in all ways. Sex is an extension of how compatible we are. I could almost argue it’s too easy for us to be together and be utterly happy, but then I think of our parents and how we’ve yet to win their approval.
There’s also Harper and the unease deep in my gut that she’s about to ruin this for me. Kensi said Harper had “life-altering news” for me. What the fuck does that mean, and why can’t I bring myself to find out?
I hate that my ex is in my head at a time like this. Pushing thoughts of Harper far from my mind, I focus on the mission. Through a borrowed pair of the security firm’s binoculars, I watch Prescott’s house.
Cars filled with people pass through the gate at the back of his dad’s property. The oil minor’s estate is massive. Prescott has it made, living in a guest house the size of my parents’ Winter Park home.
The team I recruited—friends and employees from the firm, along with Isa—plan to discreetly crash the Halloween party so I can pummel Prescott’s ass and then make a clean escape before all hell breaks loose. We won’t be leaving the way we enter—through a gated entrance to the guest house.
The escape route will be through the woods near the lake behind the house. Drone footage Reese, from the IT department, took to scout the land showed an easy access point there. A wall encloses the property, with sensors strategically placed to signal intruders. I’m familiar with the security firm they use. The company is larger than ours, but their products and execution are weak in comparison.
This oil tycoon is old school, too, in that he relies on security guards at the gates versus technology. His mistake.
After watching the video footage Isa sent Kensi and hearing how desperate she is to make up for her betrayal, I enlisted her to help. She was more than eager, even if it could get her in trouble for her participation. I’ve done my best to make sure she can’t be connected to us or what is about to go down.
She’s our way into the party, our key to finding Prescott, and our lure to getting him alone. While I’m feeding the asshole my fist, she’ll be leaving with Dalton. By the time I’m done, she’ll be a safe distance away. Ace and I will strip our costumes down to the black clothes we have on underneath and we’ll take off out back, following the planned escape route.
I pass the binoculars to Ace. The former Marine works for the firm, providing private security for A-list celebrities. To my luck and advantage, he’s between jobs. The dude is in his early thirties and built like the Rock.
“You were right,” I say. “Clown costumes seem to be the number-one choice. We’ll blend in easily.” For every car that passed through the gate, at least one or more clowns are in a single vehicle.
Ace and I dressed as creepy clowns for that reason. The box office remake of the movieItput the costumes in the top ten for this year. He said it was the smartest choice. He wasn’t wrong.
“Too bad it’s itchy as fuck.” Ace scratches his red curly wig. He has the attached rubber mask pulled up to his forehead.
“Take it off until we go in,” I tell him. Mine is shoved in my pocket, the orange curls hanging out like the fur of a mutated rodent.
He ignores my advice. “Even with Isa, we should have no problem getting in. Let’s get back to the others.”
We leave our lookout post, a safe distance from the gated entrance, and join the rest of the team by the cars.
“You ready?” Ace asks, his gaze on Isa.
She stands near Ace’s Range Rover, the plates bogus for tonight. She fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other, a sure sign she’s nervous.
“Yeah.” She nods, her voice calmer than she looks.
“I’ll have your back the whole time,” Ace says. “Even if it appears you’re alone, trust me—you’re not. I’ll have eyes on you the entire time, and I have no problem knocking out Prescott if he does anything inappropriate.”
“Which you won’t do because that’s saved for me,” I add. Prescott is mine. “I’ll have your back too, Isa.”
