Aaron Cash Dc Novels & Stories

Instead, he laughed out loud and taunted, "Are you going to report me? Hilarious! Let me tell you something—you can report anything you want. Our businesses in Warcester are legitimate. There's no way you'll succeed. "Besides, you'll only anger my father. And when he gets involved, you'll surely be dead soon." Deric laughed, implying that everything would appear in perfect order even if an investigation were conducted. "Good," Henry replied calmly. "Since you've said that, I'll have no reservations about dealing with the Piersons." He then put Aaron on the call. Aaron was the wealthiest man from Redhoc; his connections were all over Redhoc, just like Jeffery in Hodbridge.

I snorted, "the only person close to being an artist is Aaron. He is an architect and civil engineer. He owns a company for building and selling buildings, any kind of houses, and malls. As long as it's a building. He also manages a real estate agent company but that doesn't make him an artist. The only artistic work Jaxon can do is paint a woman with cum and Mordecai doesn't even know how to draw a triangle. If he draws for you, you'll regret your life." She laughed. "He can't be that bad," "He's terrible," I deadpanned. "Can I ask a curious question?" "Shoot." "I know how you made your money and him, what about Aaron and Jaxon?" "Jaxon was never poor, just didn't love living off his parent

Cole folded his arms, watching him, not wanting to expose his identity just yet as he moved to stand at the foot of the makeshift hospital bed – which was an old mattress thrown over a wooden bench. “Glad to have you join us, Aaron, we were beginning to get quite impatient. I understand you have a message for us?” Xavier started as he came to stand on one side of the mattress. Jason joined Cole at the foot of the bed while Darrow, Wulfrun and Hallec stood across from Xavier. Aaron swallowed and his hands shook visibly. “I was supposed to make a deal….” he said in a shaky tone. “Let’s hear it,” Xavier replied. Hallec shifted on his feet, causing Aaron to shoot his attention in his direction.

As I fished my wallet out of my jacket pocket and stared down at the slim wad of cash I kept handy, I hesitated. “Don’t pay in cash.” Tristan drawled, “If we don’t make it back, Asher can track us through your card and see that we stopped here. It’s not much, but it’ll give him somewhere to start.” He watched me from where he leaned against the pump. It sat at an odd angle, making it look as though it were going to fall over at any moment. I nodded, erasing my look of surprise when he snorted dryly. The start of a plan unfurled in my mind—one created by the slew of intrusive thoughts that explained in explicit detail the many number of things that could potentially go wrong. Well, at least t

I used to be that person, but I don't know who I am anymore. Up to now, I'm still having a hard time accepting the fact that Aaron worked for the Browns. It's just so shocking, but in a way it all makes sense. All the money he sent home, he didn't get that from an ordinary job. We bought the house, the car I drove to school with. We had enough to pay his lawyers when he was in jail. It was all Brown money. Dirty money.

“Whatever it is you have in mind, make it bigger.” Aaron smirked at the implication of his words. Not just to him, but to the girl involved. So far, his favourite pass-time included thinking up ways to get his girlfriend’s face a permanent shade of red. And he was doing a great job at it. It was only up from here. “Have a good day.” Aaron waved a finger on his way out, definitely in a good mood and ready to pack up for his impending journey to Chicago. Aaron crossed the hallways of the building, headed outside when his phone rang. He took a glance and was shocked at the name displayed. Hell had to be freezing for him to receive such a call.

My voice is casual, almost an afterthought, as if I’m merely musing aloud. “Speaking of stable operations,” I begin, my gaze drifting across the expansive estate, taking in the rolling hills and distant cypress trees, “I overheard an amazing news the other day in New York. About the Ash operations. Aaron seems to be doing quite well managing everything. Getting better and better, in fact.”

But as I left the café instead of Zackery, Aaron was waiting for me. My eyes narrowed on their own accord. “King Aaron.” I greeted regardless of the anger I felt seeing him here. He had his car with him, a flashy one this time. Looks like time out of the wolf’s valley is doing wonders for him. Aaron hasn’t been a person to flaunt his status or wealth in front of people, in fact, I used to adore this fact about him but seeing him here wearing a bespoke grey suit, driving a fancy car. I don’t know what to even think of this. “Cynthia!” he greeted back and marched toward me with purpose. This time my eyes widened in shock as he closed the distance between us. I didn’t even have the will to take

2021, February 20th (Imperium, Warlanda) Aaron’s pace rapidly increased as he balanced the files in his arms while simultaneously trying his damndest to avoid any more interactions with Flynn or Cameron. He eased the door to the archive room open and entered, hoping for some peace and quiet. Just as he was letting out a sigh of relief as he made his way through the empty aisles to seek out a desk in a dark corner that he could hopefully hide out in, he bumped into them and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Don’t be a hypocrite. You told Summer to give her daddy a second chance—so why won’t you? I’m not saying he’s perfect, god knows he’s not. But you’ll keep hurting if you keep this up. And whether you like it or not, Mr. Devil-in-a-Business-Suit deserves a shot. He’s Summer’s father.” She squeezes my hand and heads back to the counter, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Now two people have told me to give him a chance. Could they be right? My reverie shatters when Aaron slides into the booth across from me, his apron and visor gone now, dressed in jeans and a simple white shirt. “You got plans later?” He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice he’s sweating—nervous, maybe? “Nothing I can’