John Reed Book Novels & Stories

That is the whole speech, Reed in that same tight script. I clutched at the book, my heart pounding. This wasn't just a textbook. This was personal. Valuable. The sort of thing you didn’t abandon unless it meant something. Why would he do this? I entered the room, locked the door and sat on my bed, fingering the leather cover. Its pages smelled old and papery, and something else. Cedar, maybe. The same odor that was all over Reed’s office.

~~ Kai's POV ~~ I was in my office when Reed came in with the file, I have been drowning myself in work since the last five hours. Since I left Hazel’s room. I couldn’t afford to sit ideal and sulk all day for getting rejected yet again. I needed a distraction. He didn't knock. That meant it was important. I looked up from the contracts I had been reviewing and watched him close the door carefully behind him. "The lawyer," Reed said quietly, placing a manila folder on my desk. "The one in the photograph with Hazel's mother."

Just one sentence glowed on the display: “George Reed’s death was no accident.”

she said, glancing at me. I wanted to scream and shout, "No, Leah, I don't love being alone! I want to be with you tonight!" But I could only watch in frustration. "Leah, I will drive you home," John offered. I pinched Daniel tightly, urging him to say something. Daniel winced in pain, his nose runny from keeping his pains in. "You are drunk, Director John. I saw you drinking a lot back in the restaurant. You might be charged for drunk driving, you know," he said, forcing out an awkward laugh.

I laughed, teasing, knowing exactly what he meant. Reed. My billionaire. My private investigator on the low. He stood composed, every inch of him exactly how I remembered—tall, imposing, with a presence that could drown anyone who dared stand in his path. His amber, piercing eyes missed nothing. The first time I met him—back at the mall when I was still married—he was just as intense. A billionaire who walked in the shadows, hidden in plain sight. A mole I hired to track Dontrell. He was why I walked out unscathed. Reed knew everything—about the mafia, my past, and the danger shadowing me.

I arrived at the dry cleaners that was listed in the letter around 9am, I gave them Mr. McAlister’s name and they immediately brought me the two suits I was picking up. The dry cleaner’s shop was a little grungy looking; it surprised me that a rich man such as Mr. McAlister would even bring his clothes here. I grabbed the suits and headed out the door. I needed to make a good first impression so I wanted to arrive at the office early and make sure everything was ready for my egotistical boss.

Vincenzo, Dante and their mother were now sitting in the office coming up with strategies to get rid of their enemy. "Where is James?" Georgia asked curiously, as he was supposed to be with them. Almost that instant, the door to the office opened, revealing James. "Here," he replied shortly, making his way to the couch and taking a seat. Vincenzo could see the worry lacing on his forehead and raised his brow, asking what was wrong. "I've got leads. I managed to hack some of his workers’ laptops, and what I found wasn't good." He replied deadly.

It is because of one such man that he lost his family in one night. After one hour, the employee is dead now. The cleaners are cleaning the torture chamber. Reed is sitting in his office in the basement. This is the place where he deals with all of his illegal activities. "Boss, whiskey" Reed's assistant and his occasional lay Sadie placed the glass on his table. Reed looked at Sadie blankly. Half of her shirt buttons are undone, a blatant invitation. She is the daughter of one of the made men. She deals with the illegal side of his business and a convenient lay.

Teams cost money and it should be obvious by our surroundings that we didn’t have money. “Jon has school in the morning and he needs to sleep, Mr. Tyler.” “I think you should call me Reed.” I didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t matter what I called him because in a few minutes, I would never see him again. “Whose school books are those?” Jon didn’t give me a chance to answer. “A few are mine.” He left it at that. Reed stepped closer to the table and looked at the titles. His left eyebrow arched as he read the title aloud. “Analytical Concepts in Accounting.”

Marla stepped in, a file in her hands. “I got the papers you asked for,” she said, laying them down in front of me. “Thanks,” I muttered, not looking up. She hesitated. “You sure you want to keep digging?” I finally looked at her. “I need to know who he is.” She gave a slow nod. “You’re not going to like it.” I opened the file. And froze. Reed wasn’t just some random man. He had a past. A real one. “Why didn’t anyone know this before?” I asked, flipping through the pages.