Breaking Meredith by Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty

Author:Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty [Sweet, Izzy & Moriarty, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Nothings
Published: 2018-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

By the time we finally make it back to my home, Meredith looks as exhausted as she must be feeling. Her eyes struggled to remain open for the last couple of miles. The black Tahoe in front of me and the two following me have stayed as tight as they can which gives me some comfort.

Thankfully my computer systems have showed nothing in the way of my security systems being compromised.

Pulling through the gate, I wait as the car ahead of us rolls to a stop. Four large men in black coats and military fatigue pants ease out of the vehicle. The car directly behind me pulls in past my surrounding wall, and the last car stops just outside of it.

The men in the front car pull their semi-automatic rifles out with them as they start to spread out around the front of the house. The men in the car behind us quickly get out as they spread around the yard.

“Is this protection really going to help?” Meredith asks quietly.

Nodding my head at her, I say, “Yes. I’ve used Twin Star Security in the past and I trust their men to do a thorough job.”

“Simon, I’m… scared.”

“Don’t be. I told you already, you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine.”

Getting out of the car after the lead security man motions for me, I say to him, “Ensure we’re not disturbed.”

Nodding his head, he asks, “Would you like us to go through the house, sir?”

“No, it won’t be needed,” I say as I come around the door to escort Meredith out of the Tahoe I’ve taken over.

“Very well. We’ll have another car here soon. It will be roaming in a sporadic perimeter.”

“Good.”

It’s only early afternoon, but I can already tell the day has worn my poor Meredith thin. Escorting her into the bedroom, I sit her down on the bed’s edge. Kneeling in front of her, I look up into her tired eyes.

“The excitement will die down soon enough,” I say as I drop my eyes down to her heeled shoes.

Taking them off slowly, I lift her feet up on the bed and pull the comforter over her body.

“Promise?” she asks after a weary yawn.

“Yes,” I say, and then head into my office off the main bedroom.

Heading to the closet inside the room, I pull a new keyboard out of the box. I normally replace them after a couple of months. It’s just too hard to get all the lint and refuse out from under the key buttons for them to be worth keeping.

Plugging into the system, I begin my work.

I need to figure out who the hell is trying to kill us off. It’s the Yakuza, I’m willing to wager. But why now and what for, is the question.

The fucking tracer on my Escalade has been there for a small time. Maybe since the night at the club. Though with how sophisticated it is, I’m willing to bet I can trace it back to a manufacturer, or at the very least who built it.

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