Murder in the Magic City by G.P. Sorrells (speed reading book TXT) 📗

Ross, your history doesn’t matter. Well, not the one you’re concerned with, at least.”

“I don’t understand,” Sheridan said. He shifted uneasily in the chair. The way Hurst had responded didn’t come across as an accident. The one you’re concerned with? As if I had a basket of histories to draw from?

Hurst flipped past the first two pages of the folder, settling on a picture of a man Sheridan had never seen. Dark skin, cobalt eyes, and a crew cut with olive green Army fatigues covering a burly frame. There was some text next to the picture about whoever this man was, but someone had erased the pertinent information. Redacted. “Before you can do anything, you need to become this man.”

“Become him? Who the hell do you think I am? Gandalf?”

“Not even Gandalf the Grey could shape shift. Thankfully for us both, it’s not something you’ll need to worry about doing either. At least not in the traditional sense.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ross, I need you to focus on the task at hand. The greater whole is unimportant. Instead, it’s vital that you do as instructed when the call comes your way. You need only concern yourself with what lies ahead in the immediate future.”

“Which is?”

“Your next task is to kill this man. We will arm you appropriately and place you in an advantageous position in which to carry out the task, but it will be up to you to follow through.”

“What did he do to deserve this kind of attention? Is he part of Medina’s crew?”

“That all depends on who you ask. The multitude of answers won’t change the fact that everything else I have tasked you with will be impossible to complete without you first following through with your part in this macabre performance,” Hurst said. He retrieved the folder and glanced at a confused Sheridan. “He’s a career criminal. One wrong step away from getting locked up for life. He’s also worked with a man in Miami who will become one of your contacts in the future.”

“I think I’m getting a handle on this all.”

“All I need to know is whether I can count on you. If not, let me know now. There’s more to this than any reservations you may have. Your role may be the most vital part of the whole, but a lot is riding on your cooperation.”

“Just, uh,” Sheridan trailed off. He stared at the opposite wall, unsure of the right move. Feeling like he lacked anything resembling free will. “Just show me where to go.”

“Good man,” Hurst said. He pivoted and walked out of the room, leaving Sheridan to wonder just how drastically his life was about to change.

 

Chapter 31

Sunlight crept through the blinds in Micah’s living room window, striking him directly in the eyes. He valiantly fought the urge to open them, but it was of no use. Sleep had evaded him much of the night. Heavy drinking and passing out on a sofa smaller than one’s own body rarely results in restful slumber. It had been quite a while since he drank like he did the night before, and he was paying for it dearly. The rhythmic pounding in his head became more pronounced as he opened his eyes, rubbing his head and looking around. The apartment was quiet, nothing more than a low hum from the air conditioner as it cooled down the rooms within.

Need something for this damn headache, he thought, walking over to the bathroom. Three white pills later and Micah knew he had to do something else to ease the pain. He walked over to the kitchen and rummaged around. Moments later, he had a few pans out, cooking eggs over medium and a package of thick cut bacon. The latter was anything but healthy, but it was a guilty pleasure of his. And the grease was sure to do something for his hangover. As he flipped the first egg, his bedroom door squeaked open and Valerie stepped out. She strode over, wearing the same clothes she had on the night before.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Micah said.

“Morning,” Valerie replied. She placed a hand on her head and grimaced. Micah set the pan off the burner and walked out of the room. When he returned, he offered her the bottle of pain relievers and continued cooking.

“These should help.”

Valerie sat down on a stool behind a modestly large kitchen island and swallowed the pills. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to make me an egg or two?”

“First plate is yours. There’s coffee too.”

“Thank you,” Valerie said. “Not just for the eggs, but for being a gentleman.”

It took Micah a moment to realize she hadn’t been referencing his willingness to give up his much-needed grease. “Don’t mention it. I’m not one for taking advantage of others when they’re down.”

“Was I that bad?” Valerie blushed. Normally, drinking in excess wasn’t an issue. Moderation had always been her motto. And it had kept her out of more than a few hairy situations. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, that she had let herself blow past the goalposts so far, or that the man before her hadn’t made a move on her when she was nearly powerless to resist. Perhaps there was more to him than she thought initially.

“Well, on a scale of one to obliterated, I think the top end would have been a solid place to stop.”

“Oh, come on, I couldn’t have been that far gone.”

“Do you remember leaving the bar, hopping into the ride share?” Valerie’s quizzical look confirmed Micah’s suspicions. “Didn’t think so.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, dejected. “I try not to let myself get that far gone.”

“It’s okay,” Micah said. “Happens to the best of us.”

Valerie smiled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. The mug set aside for her had the Miami Vice inspired logo of the local professional basketball team, the Miami Heat. She thought it predictable that Micah enjoyed sports. It seemed most men did. She was glad his sport of choice appeared to be basketball