Wicked Intentions Read Online Free PDF

account.
    Nathan didn’t believe that bullshit for a minute. Now that he knew she was a suspected criminal, his distrust level had risen to unimaginable heights. So what if the jury had let her out on reasonable doubt? Nathan wasn’t feeling very reasonable right now. Heck, he was witness to what she and her mother’s were capable of.
    Last night he’d played along with her offer to return all his money, but he hadn’t been taken in. He’d figured that come morning she’d have some excuse why she couldn’t find her money and try to string him along further. And that was exactly what Shakira had done.
    Fooled once, he was a victim. Fooled twice – that would just make him stupid.
    “She spent the whole day at a beauty salon in The Bronx,” the voice of the private investigator he’d hired to tail Shakira sounded over the phone.
    “Did you see her mother?” Nathan asked.
    “No. But her car was parked in front of the shop so she’s probably in town,” the PI said. “I’ve got someone watching the shop just in case she turns up.”
    Nathan smiled as another one of his suspicions was confirmed. Shakira had been trying to divert him with talk of Mexico while Eve was living it up in New York with his money.
    “When the suspect left the salon, the only other person in the car was her friend, London Pistol.”
    “London Pistol?” Nathan guffawed. Pistol? The name just spelt criminal – talk about birds of a feather. “Where are they now?”
    “They’re in line at Dirty Hypnotiq .”
    Dirty Hypnotiq ? Really? They were probably celebrating how they’d roped in a new target. Wonder what they’ll do if I interrupt their little celebration? Nathan grinned as his plans for the rest of his night crystallized.
    After ending the call with his PI, he slid the glass door that led out to the balcony shut behind him and reentered the dance studio. Several rows of lights glared down on the large rectangular space lighting on the five workmen installing mirrors on the east wall. Nathan’s shoes chaffed against the unpolished and still littered with sawdust wooden floor as he made his way towards the men.
    As rough as it all looked right now, he had a clear image of exactly how the studio would look once it was done; mirrors lining all the walls except for the south wall where ceiling to floor windows that looked out to the beautiful Manhattan skyline. He could imagine the kids laughing, popping, locking and battling out in here.
    Ten years ago Extreme Expressions had been nothing but a dream that everyone said was a pipe-dream. There was no such thing as a career as a dancer. What kind of job was dancing for a man anyway? His mother had actually laughed.
    Nathan had proved everyone wrong including her. He’d stuck to his dreams despite having to spend weeks at a time broker than the mouse next door and rooming in what felt like coffins with other struggling artists. He’d worked hard on perfecting his art, saved his money and formed the right connections. In collaboration with a celebrity musician and an award winning actor, he now had two active branches to his name. This one – Extreme Expressions 104 –would be his third.
    People like Shakira and her mother irritated him. He knew exactly how much sweat equity he’d put into every dollar he spent. For someone to pick him up as easy money was a personal insult. He’d make sure they got their just deserts and this time there’d be no doubt in the jury’s mind.
    “Guys, let’s wrap this up,” he said attracting the attention of the workmen. “It’s past seven and I’m sure your families are waiting for you.”
    “We wanted to finish up tonight so Teddy and his boys can work on the floors tomorrow,” Ayanna, the foreman, informed Nathan. Extracting her hand from the pocket of her blue coveralls, the brawny blonde checked her watch, “It might just take us another hour or two.”
    “All right! I’m heading out in a couple,” Nathan said. “I’ll ask