When a drop-dead gorgeous socialite with a wad of cash walks into Ben Malone’s office with a sordid tale to tell, he does what any self-respecting private investigator with rent to pay would do – he takes the case. But soon, he realizes he may have bitten off more than he can chew.
As the body count rises and all signs point to the Ukrainian mob, it becomes increasingly clear that there’s far more at stake than his client’s needs. This mind-boggling case just might hit too close to home for him, and he has no intention of letting it get any worse.
The clock is ticking. Lives are on the line. Will Malone stop this runaway train of destruction and untangle the web of criminal wrongdoing in time, or die trying?
Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / GeneralAmazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,448,311 Paid in Kindle Store
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Chapter 1
On an intellectual level, I was sure I'd long understood the meaning of the phrase, drop dead gorgeous. But when my office door opened that Monday morning and she walked in, I gained some real practical insight into the true meaning of the phrase. She was someone who was so stunning at first glance that it was hard to look away. Looking at her for the first time made my heart skip a beat and then beat faster. Time seemed to grind to a halt.
She said, "Mr. Malone?"
I tried to think of a witty reply but failed miserably. My mind had turned temporarily to mush. Instead, I flashed her a goofy grin and said, "Yes. I'm Malone."
Her golden blond hair contrasted perfectly with her cornflower blue eyes and porcelain skin. She was tall, very trim, and carried herself with an air of sophistication. She had on a short dark gray pencil skirt, black stockings, a white sleeveless silk blouse, unbuttoned to display just the right amount of cleavage. She wore black ankle strap heels. Her ears were adorned with small gold hoop earrings and around her neck was an impressive gold statement necklace that looked like it had probably cost three or four times what I'd paid for my car.
I stood up, gestured towards one of the client chairs positioned in front of my desk, and invited her to sit down. She had an elegant heel-to-toe walk that brought to mind a fashion model on a runway. She sat down gracefully in the chair and crossed her legs at the knee. She modestly tugged at the hem of her impressively too short skirt, but the effort didn't quite manage to conceal the darker colored top of the silk stocking covering her right leg. I liked the skirt. I liked it a lot. The skirt and the stockings emphasized her long, shapely legs.
I sat back down in my desk chair, almost missing the seat. I could tell she was giving me the once over, sizing me up. Probably mentally undressing me.
