World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

“Thanks, baby,” he said before he planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Now I’ve got to scoot out of here.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fletcher

The time had come. I flipped open the laptop and prepared the accounts to send and receive the money.

My stomach churned. The big warehouse was bathed in a fluorescent glow as Sullivan concluded his auction.

The people who’d appeared were even higher profile than I’d imagined. There was a CEO of a nationwide company. A state representative. A senator. A tech company oligarch. And someone I was fairly certain was high up in the local mafia. There was even a woman from Italy, but I wasn’t sure we’d be able to hold her due to her being a diplomat.

“Is it ready to go?” Sullivan asked me quietly.

“Yes.” I hit enter and watched as the money disappeared before my sight.

“So, this is the end, isn’t it?” Sullivan asked softly.

I glanced up sharply, surprised to find him not looking elated to now be in the possession of millions and millions of dollars. Instead, he looked sad. Pensive. He slowly turned and stared around the warehouse, as though he were taking it in for the first time. “I’ve had some good times in this building.”

I nodded because I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t make my move yet, SWAT were supposed to be coming in at any minute now. I’d hit the pager hidden inside my pant leg the minute the money transferred.

A fire alarm sounded loudly. I recognized the piercingly shrill sound as it echoed throughout the building. A building that I knew didn’t have a fire alarm system in it. It would be a little awkward trying to explain a warehouse full of stolen goods to the fire department.

I glanced around, wondering if SWAT was using it as a distraction technique. No doors were breeched yet.

I closed the laptop and watched as the entire group hurried toward the main door closest to them. Just as the first man reached the handle, the door flew open, slamming into him. The SWAT team filed in, quickly surrounding the group. I received a few nods as I stood back and let them do their job. They’d been briefed that I was their inside guy. Made it a lot less messy in a sting like this.

There was something satisfying about watching a plan come together. As everyone calmed down—or at least quieted down, I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Saidy.

We did it.

After pocketing my phone, I watched as suspects were cuffed, read their rights and shuffled around.

But something wasn’t right. I scanned the small crowd.

Sullivan.

He wasn’t there.

He’d slipped away.

He must have been the one who’d rigged the distraction. I turned around and sprinted to the back of the warehouse and out through a small office that had a door leading outside.

No one was there. Why hadn’t SWAT been waiting outside of both doors?

I pulled out my phone and called West as I hurried across the back of the property to where I’d parked my van next to Sullivan’s car.

“Why am I not seeing you walk out of the warehouse wearing some new bracelets?” West’s wry voice hit my ear.

“Sullivan got out the back.”

He cursed loudly on the other end.

“I’m going to the house. He’ll be grabbing whatever he can.” I wrenched open the door to my car and climbed in. I started it and immediately put it into drive. “He’s probably long gone by now. You get everyone searching.”

I hung up and screeched around the corner onto the street that led to Sullivan’s house. I was driving like Saidy’s mom, only with less honking.

It felt like hours later that I reached his house, but in reality, it was only six minutes.

I left the car running as I climbed over the cement wall and sprinted to the house. Flinging the door open, I flew down the hall and skipped the main office, instead heading straight for the library with a door into a sunroom. Sullivan would never stash his papers in a room with only one exit. And after this bust he had to be planning to flee the country.

I slipped my hand into the back of my jeans and pulled out my 9mm.

I rested my hand against the slightly ajar door, and pushed it open slowly.

“Before you blast me to kingdom come, at least let me finish this whiskey,” a dry tone greeted me the same time my eyes landed on Sullivan. He sat in a highbacked chair. A satchel at his feet, a whiskey in his hand. Other than that, he appeared harmless. His hands were in the open with no weapon in sight.

“Better tell your friends you were the one who got me. If you want that promotion to detective, that is.” He drained his cup, then pointed at the decanter on the table next to him, indicating that he was going to refill.

“You knew,” I observed. His demeanor today. His reserved tone. He hadn’t been obsessively checking security the way he had been at the beginning of the week. He’d known it was a trap and still went through with it anyway.

He nodded as he refilled his cup. To the top. “I finally put it together. A little too late, don’t you think?”

I scanned the room as I stepped inside, making sure none of his bodyguards were there with him. “When did you figure it out?”

Sullivan ignored my question and swiped a hand through his hair. “You were good. You had me fooled. Your girlfriend had me convinced you were who you said you were.”

I listened for the sound of approaching sirens. Still nothing.

“I had her followed you know,” he said as he drained the cup again. A talkative fellow after a few cups of whiskey.

“I’d figured you did,” I ground out.

“She played her part beautifully.” He gave a chef’s kiss. “And then when I discovered the truth—that you were