Time Bomb
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About this ebook
There's a crazed killer on the loose and part-time pro wrestler/full-time private investigator Swift Time fears this case just might be his last.
Luckily this PI has an advantage in the ring and when it comes to tracking down fugitives: he's got a touch of ESP and he's not afraid to use it. Swift Time ha
Lynn Chantale
Lynn Chantale resides in southeastern Michigan and she is determined to enjoy all that life has to offer. She has a mad affinity for milk chocolate, old school R & B, and socks. Yes, socks. The crazier and more outrageous the better.She's a multi-published author in ebooks and has recently stepped into the self-publishing world. So far both experiences have been rewarding.
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Time Bomb - Lynn Chantale
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Time Bomb
VIBE a Steamy Romance Series #4
Copyright © 2022 Lynn Chantale. All rights reserved.
4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
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Dunedin, FL 34698
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Cover by 4HP
Editor Muñeca Fossette
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain permission.
This is book is meant as a reference guide. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belongs to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022931340
Print ISBN: 978-1-64450-494-9
Audio ISBN: 978-1-64450-492-5
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64450-493-2
Prologue
Cain McBride rushed through the marbled foyer and up the wide, winding staircase with its gleaming wood banisters to the last room in the carpeted hall. Never before had he been summoned to his father’s home with such urgency. His father, Thomas McBride, was nearing 80 and was just as sharp as when Cain was a teenager. Much to Cain’s wonder, Thomas knew all his son’s schemes and secrets and never let him get away with anything.
And now, Cain had been summoned to his childhood home.
Multiple scenarios played through Cain’s mind. Perhaps his father was dying from some incurable cancer. Or maybe a stroke would force Cain to put his father in a home.
Cain dismissed the latter. Thomas McBride had enough money to hire private nurses to care for all his needs.
Cain composed himself before he knocked on the door. He ran his hand down from his neatly trimmed hair to the crisp edge of his mustache until he reached the silk of his tie. He didn’t want to look flustered.
Come,
came the hearty response to his knock.
Cain twisted the knob. His father didn’t sound like he was in pain or ill health. Cain pushed open the wooden door. The scents of aged leather and expensive cigar smoke greeted him. The scents of his childhood and of his father. Cain stepped into the room and closed the door.
Father
Cain glanced around the room. The mahogany gleamed. The desk and credenza glowed with a mirror shine. The furnishings hadn’t changed, but the paint and carpet had. The walls were a soft blue, almost gray and what was once carpet now gave way to a deep charcoal laminate flooring. Cain had to approve of the look. It seemed more stately and masculine somehow.
Here, son,
came the deep voice.
Cain followed the low murmur to the small sitting room. The open balcony doors let in the late summer breeze. Soon, the weather would be too cool to have the doors open; instead, his father would keep the fireplace burning.
Cain stepped into the room with two easy chairs, separated by an antique table facing the fireplace. Above the mantle was an oil painting of the entire family: Cain’s parents, five brothers and sisters, and a grandparent from each side.
He crossed the room and kissed his father on the cheek. His father’s skin was papery and wrinkled, but there was strength and intelligence in those burning brown eyes.
Good to see you, Cain!
He picked up a glass of iced tea. Have a seat.
You scared me. What was so important you needed me to rush over here?
Cain settled in the other chair, facing his father.
Thomas McBride sipped his tea as he gazed at the painting on the wall. Do you know why I had that painting made?
Cain looked at the picture as well. He opened his mouth to answer then closed it. Truthfully, he had no idea why there was an oil painting of their family. No. I really don’t.
There’s something prestigious about having a painting commissioned.
A slight sneer was in the older man’s voice. I wanted to have an heirloom to pass down through the generations. Something to say Thomas Scott McBride was here, and this is his legacy.
He nodded toward the print. You and the rest are the reason we are as prosperous as we are.
Out of the six children, Cain was the only one to take a genuine interest in the family business: Baking mixes. From cornbread to pie crust, all the business’s products could be purchased for less than fifty cents unless a consumer was purchasing a family-size box. McBride was synonymous with quality baking products and rivaled companies like Jiffy and Betty Crocker. Thomas was still Chairman and CEO, but Cain was his right-hand man.
Is there something you want me to do with the company
Cain wracked his brain for anything from the last meeting that would’ve given his father pause. As far as he could remember, numbers were projected to exceed in the current quarter, and McBride’s was on track for a record fourth quarter.
All of you children have equal shares in the business.
Cain was bitter. His siblings had done none of the work. They had all interned and worked summers at the company. But Cain was the one who slaved in the mailroom, then humped it on the production floor. He scrubbed toilets and fixed broken machinery. He knew of every leak, crack, nut, bolt, berry, and cornbread at McBride’s. While his older brothers and sisters were out with friends, Cain was learning everything he could about the family business. Even his time in the test kitchens had been well spent. Wasn’t his Berry Berry Blast Cobbler one of the hottest selling things on the market? He’d done that. Who made sure marketing and PR performed the way they were supposed to? He did. He crunched numbers to make sure the workers were given a living wage while still turning a profit for shareholders, always bearing in mind his father’s words: Treat a man with respect, and he’ll never leave you.
And if an employee dedicated a good part of their waking hours to the company, they were compensated. McBride’s was one of the few companies with employee longevity and very little turnover. Cain was so caught up in his accomplishments he nearly missed what his father said.
I loved your mother fiercely,
Thomas was saying.
I know that?
Where was Thomas going with this?
The only reason I’m bringing this up now is because I need to know what happened to her.
Happened to who?
Thomas sipped more tea. Not long before I met your mother, I learned I had a daughter.
Cain gaped.
That was my reaction as well.
He offered a self-deprecating smile. I’ve changed my will to include her into what she’s entitled, but I need you to find her.