Contracts by Matt Rogers (i like reading txt) 📕
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- Author: Matt Rogers
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Contracts
The King & Slater Series Book Two
Matt Rogers
Copyright © 2019 by Matt Rogers
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Onur Aksoy.
www.onegraphica.com
Contents
Reader’s Group
Books by Matt Rogers
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Part I
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Part II
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Announcement
Afterword
Books by Matt Rogers
Reader’s Group
About the Author
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Books by Matt Rogers
THE JASON KING SERIES
Isolated (Book 1)
Imprisoned (Book 2)
Reloaded (Book 3)
Betrayed (Book 4)
Corrupted (Book 5)
Hunted (Book 6)
THE JASON KING FILES
Cartel (Book 1)
Warrior (Book 2)
Savages (Book 3)
THE WILL SLATER SERIES
Wolf (Book 1)
Lion (Book 2)
Bear (Book 3)
Lynx (Book 4)
Bull (Book 5)
Hawk (Book 6)
THE KING & SLATER SERIES
Weapons (Book 1)
Contracts (Book 2)
BLACK FORCE SHORTS
The Victor (Book 1)
The Chimera (Book 2)
The Tribe (Book 3)
The Hidden (Book 4)
The Coast (Book 5)
The Storm (Book 6)
The Wicked (Book 7)
The King (Book 8)
The Joker (Book 9)
The Ruins (Book 10)
Prologue
1
Nepal
Aidan Parker hadn’t come here expecting sweltering heat.
It contrasted with the brochures, the word of mouth: hell, it even clashed with a simple Google search. Type “Nepal” into any internet browser and you’d come away convinced the only danger besides altitude sickness was the potential for hypothermia. Sure, the mountains were coming eventually. They were headed for Gokyo Ri, a snow-capped peak in the Khumbu region offering staggering views of Everest and the surrounding Himalayas. Temperatures plummeted at altitudes above thirteen thousand feet, but they weren’t anywhere near those heights yet.
They were low.
And it was hot.
In truth, it wasn’t that bad if you stayed still. Maybe low seventies if you checked the weather app on your phone. But for the past few days they’d been trekking, and trekking in Nepal involved excruciating ascents and descents in equal measure, which, complete with the sun beating down on the back of your neck, meant perspiring like there was no tomorrow. And when you started sweating one hundred feet into a five hundred foot rise in elevation, there was little chance of it stopping anytime soon.
But that was only half the reason Parker’s pores were working overtime.
His fourteen-year-old daughter, Raya, had deemed the trip the perfect opportunity to air years’ worth of grievances.
‘Did you even hear what I said?’ she said as they reached the top of a steep hill.
Parker paused for breath, sucking in air as he hunched over. ‘Hold on, Raya. Please…’
‘You’re not that winded,’ she said. ‘Stop making excuses.’
‘You’ve been running track for, what, three years now? I’m not on your level. Work keeps me—’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Exactly, Dad. That’s what I was saying. Thanks for bringing it up on your own. Work keeps you—?’
Parker’s heart rate settled and he said, ‘Busy.’
‘Understatement of the century.’
Parker flashed a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the rest of the party was in tow. It was, of course, a deliberate effort to hang back on their part. Both bodyguards had passed the request onto the Nepali guide and porter, so all four of them were a couple of hundred feet behind, ascending the mountain at a snail’s pace. It gave Parker breathing room to muster retorts to his daughter’s insults without having to deal with the added pressure of an uncomfortable audience, listening to everything that came out of their mouths.
He said, ‘That’s what this trip is about, Raya.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s not. This trip is about you feeling less guilty, so when we get back home you can say, “But, honey, don’t you remember Nepal?” every time I complain about you not spending enough time with me.’
Parker threw his hands in the air — each clutching trekking poles — in exasperated fashion. ‘So you’re already writing it off? In that case, what am I supposed to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe find a job that doesn’t need the presence of bodyguards whenever you step foot out of your office?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘What’s it like, then, Dad?’
Parker wiped sweat off his brow to save it dripping into the dirt at their feet. ‘You know I can’t talk about my job as much as I’d like.’
‘Which is bullshit.’
He frowned. ‘It’s not. And you’re not going to speak to me like that. If you have problems with me, which you clearly do, you’re going to convey them to me like an adult. You can’t have it both ways. You’re pretending you’re not my daughter so you can insult me for giving this my best shot, so you’re going to do that civilly instead of swearing at me every chance you get. Understood?’
He’d been on the back foot the whole trip, and she hadn’t seen him riled up often.
It made her hesitate.
Raya said, ‘Okay, Dad. Sorry. I didn’t mean to swear.’
‘And I didn’t mean to bite like that.’
‘I just…’
‘What?’
‘I think you do a good job,’ she said. ‘You know … as a father. When you’re around. So I’d like to see more of it. But that’s tough when you’re at work twenty-four-seven. And I can’t talk to you about it because we’re sitting in teahouses every night with your two bodyguards awkwardly hanging around, making shit conversation. Sorry for swearing.’
‘It’s okay,’ Parker said. ‘I get it. Can we talk about it tonight?’
‘In front of Winston and Oscar? As usual?’
‘No. We’ll find somewhere private to talk. We’re only a couple of hours from Kharikhola. I’m not in the shape I
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