Breaking News by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Rodwell Archibald Godfrey, or Rag, as he was used to being addressed and referred to by this bitch and her coworkers at The Informer, paced the small living area. He’d been living in the two-dollar dump for four weeks. Steve, the owner of Steve’s Pawnshop, had given him a deal on the place because they’d done business together in the past. When Rag had spent every dime he had gambling in Vegas, Steve had always been there to lend him a few bucks for whatever piece of junk he dragged in. Looking at the place through the eyes of his captive, he truly saw what a shit hole it was. There he was, living on top of a pawnshop, about to pawn Miss Simpson off to some big-deal corporation for ten million bucks. The irony of the situation made him smile.

He was actually surprised and, of course, delighted that in this day and age, LAT Enterprise, the faceless corporation that apparently had no face-to-face relationship with Abby Simpson, hadn’t told him to go to hell. No reporter was worth that kind of money. Hell, no editor in chief was worth that kind of money. He knew damn well that he would not have paid a single dime if one of his employees had been taken for ransom.

He felt her eyes as she followed his every move. “What? You think I’m enjoying this?” Actually, he was, but he didn’t want Abby to know. “Don’t bother answering. Oops, I forgot, you can’t talk. Your big mouth is taped shut. It’s hard, huh?”

He looked at her and could see the venom that shot from her eyes. For a brief second, he almost felt a pang of pity for her, but it passed as quickly as it came. Rag was not the kind to feel pity for anyone other than himself.

He looked at the cheap gold watch on his wrist. It would be one of the first things he replaced once he had all those millions. Every time he looked at it, he thought about that cheap old floozy in Venezuela. He’d milked her out of most of her husband’s fortune, and she’d given him this watch on their one-year anniversary. The cheap bitch. She had enough money. She could’ve bought him a Rolex.

Once he had that money, he would get himself a Patek Philippe World Time Automatic Platinum. Only the very best from then on. He wouldn’t have to depend on anyone ever again. He’d travel the world, stay in the finest hotels, eat delicacies, and if the urge hit him, and it did often, he would buy beautiful women who would do anything he wanted.

He looked at the watch again, only this time, he actually looked at the time. He had less than two hours until he hit the lottery. Rag walked across the living room to the one lone window. Scanning the parking lot and the surrounding street, he didn’t see anything or anyone that looked out of place.

Wait.

What was

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