The Big Boss - Penny Wylder Page 0,29

like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head. “What? That’s impossible. That was cancelled.”

“I know that’s what was said, but the bulldozers are here and they’re going to start with the park if we don’t hold them off.”

“Fuck. I’m on my way.”

What the hell is happening? Keenan told me that he pulled the permits. It has to be a mistake. It has to be. This can’t be happening again. Not again. There’s probably still people in that building. But if they start with the park, the building won’t be far behind. Not if they think they have the right to turn it down.

I throw on my shoes and grab what I need as quickly as I can before sprinting to my car. The drive isn’t far, but every second counts. As soon as the car is on, I’m dialing Keenan. He has to know what’s happening. But the phone goes straight to voicemail.

He went home, but I don’t know if he fell asleep too or went to the office. It rolls over to voicemail and I don’t bother to hide exactly how frantic I feel. “Keenan. They’re demolishing. I don’t know what happened but they’re trying to take the park first. I’m going there now. Call me back.”

I hang up and call him again immediately. Again, voicemail. Shit. If he doesn’t know what’s happening, he won’t be able to stop it. But it has to be a mistake. They can’t bulldoze without permits, right?

If they were bribed, they might not care. Dread sinks through my skin. Anyone can be bought. That’s what I know. Anyone. For enough money you can be convinced not to care about people. People have problems, money solves those problems. That makes us all vulnerable.

Skidding around the corner, I nearly run my car onto the sidewalk. Morgan is right. The bulldozers are here and running, only being stopped by the thin line of people standing in front of them. They’re blocking the patch of woods in the park.

A crowd is starting to gather, watching what’s about to happen. I fling myself from the car, barely remembering to lock it before I’m tearing across the field toward the man in the suit who’s clearly the one in charge. “What the hell are you doing? You have to stop. This is illegal!”

Every eye is on me now as I scream everything at the top of my lungs while I’m running. But that’s good. If their eyes are on me, they’re not on my friends.

I skid to a stop in front of the man. He’s tall. Taller than Keenan and built thickly. Blond. And his mouth is twisted into a cruel smile. I’ve never met him before but that smile brings back memories all the same. That’s the smile that does terrible things.

“And who, exactly, are you?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. This demolition has no permits. It was cancelled and it’s illegal. You need to take your machines off this property now.”

He scoffs. “I own this property, and I can do as I damn well please.”

“Tell that to the permits department and get the fuck out of here.”

Victory shines in his eyes, and he pulls papers out from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Like I was showing your equally bitchy friend before she set up that line, seems like you’ve got your facts wrong.”

The papers he hands me are demolition permits. Signed and dated by the city on Friday. For this address. Oh, fuck.

The man in front of me starts to laugh. “I think I know who you are,” he says. “You’re Keenan’s activist slut. I don’t know what kind of magic pussy you think you have, but this was always the plan. This project is way too profitable, and as you can see, the permits are legal. So stop pretending you’re willing to die for a few trees and go try to fuck your way into someone else’s profits, okay?”

Turning, he grabs a bullhorn from a nearby man in a hardhat. “Listen up,” he says, voice echoing over the park. “We are going to move these bulldozers in ten seconds. We have legal permits. Now move.”

To my horror, my friends do. They start to move away from the machines that are revving their engines. He starts to count down over the bullhorn, and I have a split-second to make a decision. I drop the papers to the ground and run, plastering myself against a tree directly in

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