William Johnstone Ashes Series Complete Set Novels & Stories

Nodding, Ash returned to his own office and shut the door. He needed to think. He needed to see Violet. He needed to figure out how the hell he was going to convince Violet that although her first love had died, that didn’t mean she had died along with him. When Ash began to gather his things to head home, his cell phone rang. He answered the call as he walked out to his car, and he almost dropped his phone when he realized it was Jeffrey Martin, the bookkeeper he’d called earlier. “Thanks for returning my call,” said Ash as he got inside his car. “I wanted to talk about a client you worked with about four years ago. A William Fielding? He was the husband of Violet Fielding, who owns White D

Angel said pouting. "Alright wait and see" Asha said before selecting the stones. After sometime they finished selecting stones. The man selected twenty stones while Asha select thirty stones. "The thirty stones cost ten thousand dollars while the king of jades own is seven thousand dollars. "Should we start cutting it now" The stone Jade seller asked and king of jades said to cut out his first. Out of his twenty stones,Nine jades was cut out. "You can quit now and apologize to me,you can see how many jades is there"

’ I couldn’t make out Asher’s reply because I’d already opened the front door and my head now rang with the excited chatter of Cassidy and Breyona. The cheerful blonde of the two toted in what looked like a kit full of nail supplies and make-up, while Breyona held up two bottles of the dark-colored whiskey Giovanni and Asher often drank. The maple and teak finish were still growing on me, but for Breyona it was an instant favorite.

Our team really needs you. She pulled out her phone and showed me everything, including her studio and her team. Immortal Ashes (IA), wholly funded by Ivy Calder. I stared at her in shock. "You actually built a team?" That name sounded oddly familiar. Was she not the daughter of the real estate tycoon behind the Calder Group? "Is your father Gordon Calder?" I asked. Ivy scratched her head shyly and smiled. "That would be my dad." "Then why would a perfectly good heiress run around building teams and pretending to be a nurse? What are you trying to do?"

Confident. The room shifts slightly. Watching her now. "One seventy-five," I call out. Every head turns. Vivienne's face goes tight. "Two hundred," she counters. "Two twenty-five." I keep my voice calm. Bored, almost. Like this is nothing. Vivienne looks at Julian. He's staring at me, not the bracelet. "Two fifty," Vivienne says. "Three hundred." Gasps now. This is getting expensive. Vivienne's jaw is clenched. She turns to Julian, says something low. He shakes his head slightly.

Bones and Angel patrolled the outside of both, the constant litany of clear echoing over the comms from everyone’s voices. The warehouses were cavernous empty spaces, whatever storage shelves and meat hook lines they used to have inside their walls long since removed. The environmentals no longer worked and the only thing out of the ordinary they found was a tiny rag doll gathering dust in a far corner. Knight crouched down and picked up the toy, gently brushing away the dirt to reveal gleaming black button eyes. Some little girl, long since gone from this place, was probably missing it this very moment—if she was still alive. Knight had to choke back the rage that suffused him at that thoug

Once I had become a pile of ashes, the staff contacted Jasper once more. He clicked his tongue impatiently. "We'll see how far you can carry out this charade." When Jasper rushed over, he looked disheveled. The top buttons on his shirt weren't even fastened properly. "Didn't you call and ask me to come and pick up the ashes? Where are they?" Jasper's casual demeanor seemed at odds with the somber atmosphere. A staff member carried my ashes out, looking heavy-hearted. He expressed his condolences to Jasper. Jasper's eyes were filled with scorn as he looked at my tiny urn.

I could feel it clearly—life draining out of my ravaged body. When she'd had her fill, she climbed off me, satisfied. Her well-manicured fingers picked up a piece of silver from the table, then dropped it onto my face with disgust. "Useless thing," she sneered. "Bones so brittle. Can't even take a little roughhousing." The door creaked open. Vince Benedict, the brothel's manager, waddled in with his massive gut leading the way. He pinched the silver coin between his thick fingers and blew on it. Then he gave my limp leg a hard kick with his black cloth boot.

A breathtaking place like a king's palace, a gold gate, and a vast expanse of flowers and tall trees surrounding the inner side of the estate wall. Her feet moved with awe and fear, her steps slowing as she approached the mansion's main door as if it were a monster that would swallow her. She entered the mansion with her mother—a vast, frightening space and opulence that took one's breath away. A middle-aged man with neatly combed black hair interspersed with a few gray strands stood there. It was Chris Myers, the richest man in America. He buttoned his suit jacket and extended his hand to Lila with a friendly smile.

Meanwhile, the source of the smoke, a charred something, sat still in the frying pan on a not turned off stove. I would've slapped my face in desperation if I wasn't on the edge of choking. I went straight to the stove, turned it off, and then put the charred whatever in the bin. Susan turned to me, a guilty smile plastered across her face. “Hey, sleepyhead.” She coughed. I wasn't smiling. I was annoyed with her. “What is this, Grace? Are you trying to kill me by suffocation?” I snapped, pushing past her to open the window wider.