Authors: Christa Simpson
The Twisted Series
By Christa Simpson
Copyright 2014 Christa Simpson
All rights reserved.
Black Widow Publishing: July 2014
This e-book is licensed for your
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are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for
your use, then please return it to the author immediately and purchase your own
copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
I would like to thank Tanya Vought who, out of the goodness
of her heart, has spent countless days and nights lending an ear, a hand and a
leg. She is one of a kind. I’m lucky to have her as a friend.
To my street team, Christa Simpson’s
with a special thanks going out to Shana Vernon, Shari Sulser and Dawn Vickers,
for their readership and support.
Thanks to Author Sara V. Zook for showing me how to put
myself out there and for being a loyal, like-minded friend.
And to each and every blogger who has shared my books,
revealed my covers and reviewed my work. I thank you all and anyone I
might have missed for everything you’ve done for me.
Christa Simpson <3 <3
David H. Gates answers his phone and kicks a booted foot
onto his desk. He doesn’t care that there’s a new client sitting in the
seat across from him. She’s come to him because he is the best.
There is a reason why his face is the one plastered across the town, on the
city buses, on every public bench. He has a good advertising plan.
But he also has a good reputation. It isn’t based on his appearance or on
how tidy he keeps his desk. It is because of his impeccable track record.
If you need the dirt on someone, he is the one to get
it. Skip tracing, private security, law enforcement. He does it
all. Because he can. One might call him a private investigator, but
that hardly does his activities justice.
It’s true, he doesn’t mind getting in a scuffle from time to
time, but he thrives on the thrill of the hunt. The police aren’t exactly
his best friend. He prefers to ride above the law. But even they
can’t deny that he comes in handy when shit goes down and their hands are tied.
Nobody ties his hands.
After taking his feet down from his desk, he hangs up the
phone and picks up a pen. “What did you say your name was again?”
The woman had barged into his office, without a
warning. The look on his assistant’s face, when the woman took the vacant
seat across from him, told him that she was going to be a handful. He had
waved Jillian off and let the woman keep her seat. He was used to the
handfuls. They were usually his best clients.
“Brandee. Brandee Hawkins.” She sticks her hand out
for a shake, but he ignores it. “I hear you’re the best Rose Arbour has
He smiles. He can’t help it. It is true.
“And you need me because…”
“I think my boyfriend is cheating on me. I know he
“If you know he is, then problem solved. Kick him to
the curb. I’d be happy to supervise. For a small fee, of course.”
Her voice turns snappy. “I’m not looking for a
“Then what exactly are you looking for, Ms. Hawkins?
Please tell me. Because so far you’ve done an amazing job of beating
around the bush and wasting my valuable time.”
The woman huffs, and he holds his satisfaction inside,
sticking with the serious raised brow. He watches her bite her tongue,
the way they always do when he’s their last resort. “I need your help.”
He doesn’t notice how Brandee Hawkins is a natural
beauty. Her hair is a little limp, her voice a lot rude, and she’s more
than a little too blonde for his liking. Maybe, if she wasn’t constantly
frowning, he might have actually checked her out while passing her on the
She fidgets under his scrutiny. “My boyfriend runs a
little bar downtown. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”
“If it’s in this City, then yes, I’ve heard of it.
Please get to the point.”
“He owns Riley’s Pub. Mitchell Cavanagh is his name.”
David nods his head. “I know Cavanagh.”
“Oh.” She looks surprised.
Is it really that shocking that he knows a business owner
who runs a local hotspot not too far down the road from his own small
establishment? He makes it his business to know his surroundings and the
players in them.
“You were saying?” He wishes she would just spit out
the words that practically every woman who comes to see him asks when she is
dating a successful businessman.
“I need you to look into him for me. Follow him
around. Document his every move when he’s not with me. If he is
screwing around with this girl, like I know he is, then I need proof. I
want the facts. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He finally nods his head, when he thinks she’s done her spiel.
“I can get you the evidence you need. But I must ask, before you go
spending a boatload of money on this. Have you called him out on it, Ms.
Hawkins? That seems to me to be the first step here.”
By the expression on her face, you would think he ran over
her grandmother’s dog. “No!”
Brandee Hawkins is a very dramatic woman. Her voice
rises to a shrill pitch. “I never!”
When she fumbles for a few more seconds, he decides it’s
time for him to take over the conversation.
“If it’s proof you’re looking for, Ms. Hawkins, then David
H. Gates is your man.”
“That’s me. Now, why don’t you get out your cheque
book and we’ll talk about just how much evidence you would like me to dig up.”
The woman writes a number before he even considers proposing
one. He glances at the cheque as she hands it over. His eyes open
wider, to make sure he’s read it correctly.