Deja Vu Parker Novels & Stories

"SO WHAT DO we do now?" Parker had woken up and found Drake and I in the living room, staring at the pen drive in front of us. He later revealed that he had stood in the hallway for thirty minutes before he decided to make his presence noticed because he thought that we had been possessed. Drake rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I accessed it," he said. "There was nothing but a picture of a painting. I put it in a reverse search engine and found the guy who painted it. It named some weird dude who painted. Aurelias."

“I can be at the prison in an hour to an hour and a half. Will that work?” “We’re just leaving Striker’s pack, so yeah, that works fine. Listen, I need to give you a head’s up about something,” she says and proceeds to fill me in on the intel that Hacker and Tracker got about Peter. I snarl, looking at my mate. He’s across the room, putting on his clothes and gathering mine. He stops and comes over, taking the phone from me and putting it on speaker. “Can you repeat that, Javelin?” he asks, watching me.

There was someone sitting there, bent over a computer, dark auburn hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a black blazer that looked tailored and expensive, and even from behind, she carried herself differently than the usual assistants my father employed. "I'm here to see Julius Armstrong," I announced, not bothering to slow down. "Tell him his son is here." The woman's shoulders stiffened slightly, and then she turned around. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. No. It couldn't be, but it was. Jane Parker sat behind that desk, and she looked nothing like the woman I destroyed. Her hair was styled perfectly, framing a face that wore subtle but expertly applied makeup.

dressed in a simple Jeans and black T I drive to Dr Lee's which is 30 minutes away after getting the kids in their twin stroller I move to get their bag when I feel someone behind me. "Amanda right ?" I turn around to look at the person it's one of Travis friend's I remember him I just don't remember his name "yes ,uhmm you Mr Parkers friend "yes Carter "he looks at my kids Carrie is bothering sleeping Camden her dirty blonde her , green eyes give her away on who her father is same as Camden.

His black pants and a black shirt with his buttons almost open except for the bottom three with a chain dangling on his chest which she gifted his hair was messy as it fell to either side waverly creating a brief partition on his head. He is completely different except for his face. Her misty eyes again glared at him. Complaining how fake he was for her. But realized her complaining doesn't matter when she is in his clutches. Soon realized that she wasn't glaring at her husband but the mafia. Her eyes slowly dropped down as she silently shuffled back. Still looking down she looked around through her lashes as now the room had light. She doesn't know how to describe this room as in its first

She turned the screen. Vittorio Lorenzetti. My father. The blood in my veins went cold. “This isn’t just some real estate flip,” Makayla said. “They’re using the park project to move something. Launder money. Clean up political leverage. Maybe both. And you walking around like you’re just another dog walker?” She shook her head, eyes hard. “You’re right in the middle of it. And so is she.” I swallowed, my hands curling into fists.

If anything happened, they would defend us. The man was currently in his villa which was situated near a lake. We were ushered to the backyard. He was lying in a hammock wearing nothing but shorts. He didn’t even bother to get up when we arrived but we didn’t mind because we were used to the disrespect. As long as he ended up giving us the answers we wanted, we were good. “Good afternoon, Mr. Parker.” Leah said after we had been introduced by the butler. “Hello, my beautiful peaches.” He said. I cringed inwardly but maintained my polite smile. If I got a better paying offer outside journalism, I would gladly take it. Not having to deal with fvckers like Parker would be great.

“Not much space back there.” Parker nodded but clenched his jaw. He didn’t like how she made light of the restrictions she’d been living with. Parker was beginning to think Talia and Carter’s father was a monster, which was so at odds with the image he portrayed on television. But then Parker, more than anyone, should know that not everyone was what they seemed. Especially celebrities. It was his job to dig through their dirty laundry and expose the skeletons in their closets. “Where are we going?” Talia asked, looking around as they sped down the freeway.

There's no suspect for that. "When did Ms. Parker die? On the morning of March fourth, right? Don't you see the newspaper? It was issued on March 4th, 2020. She read the current news. She read the newspaper before streaming. Ms. Parker's drawers weren't locked; even her windows weren't. She was just like a regular person where she just closed the door when she's inside the house. C'mon Detective, let's use our brain, shall we?" "I use my brain," the detective retorted.

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, pretending to be casual, but his eyes are glued to Jax like he’s trying to memorise this exact moment down to the way the kid’s hair sticks up at the back. Parker makes a soft, broken sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He ducks his head, scrubbing a hand over his face like something’s in his eye. It’s not. I can feel his joy through the bond, bright and disbelieving and so big it barely fits inside him. “Sunshine wolf,” he half laughs. “That’s… yeah. I can live with that.” And me?… I feel like my heart is about to swell right out of my chest.