Page 3 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)
three
Declan
Soren Palmer has no social media accounts, no LinkedIn profile, no mentions on the Instagram accounts of some floozie from college. The kid has covered his tracks well, but not well enough. There aren’t many people who can hide from me… In fact, no one ever has.
Between my money and Collins’ skills, our reach is undeniable.
The registration tied to Soren Palmer is for a brand-new Nissan Maxima in cobalt blue…
an unusual choice, proving he’s every bit as pretentious as his article made him seem.
The license plate seems it isn’t a vanity combo—it’s a random mix of letters and numbers.
That part is not typical of the douchebag I was expecting.
The registration address was listed of course, the one single paper trail.
I assume everything else was bought with daddy’s money and put under his name, too.
Collins sent me the address in a text, but I decide not to go straight to the house.
I could easily sneak into his home, which was apparently purchased through a trust, neutralize him and demand to know who his sources are.
I bet I could get him to crack like fake leather just by using intimidation tactics.
Alarm Systems are simple enough to override, but I don't know how many people live with him.
Until I get that figured out, my best bet is to get a sense for him.
Watch him until I can determine his weaknesses and how to exploit them.
That's why I circle the parking garage until I find the Maxima parked on the 4th level.
Whoever my foe is, he is dedicated. Most of the cars have cleared out as people left the office for the night, but the Maxima is parked still close to the elevator, telling me he not only stayed late, but he showed up early as well.
It's admirable, honestly, if not slightly obnoxious as I stare over the dashboard for what feels like hours waiting for movement. If there’s a shred of salvation for the kid, I may just have to put him on my payroll—his dedication is unmatched by most these days.
Relief surges in me when the elevator doors finally part, just for mild annoyance to percolate as the only people who get off are two women. But my disappointment is short-lived when they step into the static white glow of the parking garage light.
The shorter of the two snares my attention, and I can’t look away.
Maybe it’s her hair up in a ballerina’s bun pinned by a single stick at the back of her head.
Or maybe it’s the royal blue dress that is somehow all-business and also sinful as fuck, grazing her every curve and showcasing the creamy skin on her shoulders.
As I watch them, something in me says to go to them and put on the charm. The blonde looks like she’d happily come home with me, but she’s not the one I want.
There’s nothing as beautiful as a woman, and there’s none as beautiful as this one . Or, at least, there’s none that has ever stolen my attention like this. There’s something in the air around her that feels magnetic.
A woman like that won’t be swept away by charm or charisma. No, that’s the type to tell me to go fuck myself if I dare to look at her too long, just to make it known that she may be small, but she’s no pushover.
They stop in the center of the row, just a few cars away from where I’m sitting, quietly watching them.
They seem completely unaware of how vulnerable they are, completely ignorant to my eyes on them.
The leggy one says something that prompts a laugh from her petite counterpart, and then they turn and go their separate ways.
My eyes follow her of their own accord, stuck on her as she walks back in the direction of the elevator.
For one moment, I feel a flicker of disappointment at the thought of her going back inside, and then she clicks the button on the keys in her hand.
Somewhere nearby, lights flash and a car’s locks chirp, but I’m too busy watching her to look for the source.
I notice the way she carries the keys between her fingers, a makeshift weapon. Oh, she would definitely tell me to go fuck myself if I tried to charm her.
Sexy and smart. It’s a lethal combination.
A sense of misplaced pride rolls through me, but it’s quickly dulled when she opens the driver’s side door of the Maxima and slips inside.
Excitement quickly replaces anything else that I’m feeling as I watch the woman in the blue dress get into the blue car that belongs to Soren Palmer.
Suddenly things just got a lot more interesting.