Chris Bolton bolted up in the hammock and stared at the headline which had popped up on his notification bar few seconds ago. "Thomas Bolton: Back to Being Without an Heir?" What the hell was that about?? Had something happened to Richard?? He quickly tapped on the notification and was directed to the news site where he quickly ran his eye through the story. Shit. Richard had been shot and was apparently in critical condition because the bullet had barely missed his heart. That wasn't good at all. Yes, Richard had betrayed him but he didn't want him dead. Not satisfied with just reading the story, Chris got out of the hammock hurried into his room where he grabbed the remote controller and powered his TV then scrolled through the channels to find any news channel that was covering the story. He found one eventually and stood rooted to the spot and watched as Richard stepped out of the car, only to be shot straight in the chest few seconds later. As he watched, the Richard on screen cl
Thomas Bolton hurriedly changed out of his indoor joggers and t-shirt and into a black flannel shirt and a pair of black jean trousers. When he was done with all his preparations, he took a quick look out the mirror before heading out of his room and heading back to the lounge where the prudent guards whose name he just realized he didn't know, was still waiting for him. He walked into the lounge and the guard immediately bolted out of his chair and remained standing even as Thomas walked up to him. This guard just kept displaying more and more fine levels of prudence. Thomas walked up to where he had left his phone on the chair and grabbed it then turned to face the guard who was still standing."You can go on and take your sit," Thomas said and the guard responded with a "yes sir" and proceeded to retake his sit. Thomas was going to explain to him again about how he had to head to the hospital and how the guard had to watch the gun until the cop came and even then, oversee the cop
As Thomas Bolton's convoy pulled up into the parking lot of the hospital, Thomas' phone rang on his leg and he looked at it - it was the cop he had called to go pick up the hair strand. "Have you picked it up now?" He asked as soon as he took the phone to his ear. "Yes," the cop replied gruffly."Good." Thomas said then asked "How long is it going to take before the results are ready?" "At least 4-5 days," the cop responded nonchalantly and Thomas almost snapped at him. The hell he would wait for '4-5 days'!!!! He wanted those results as soon as possible. "That's too far. I want them sooner," Thomas said. "Well, I'll try my best to get them for you in three days, but you're going to have to double my fee." the cop said with the same nonchalance. "I''ll triple it if you get me the damned results in two days," Thomas said and hung up without waiting for a reply. He knew the cop would get him the results soon because that was what dirty cops like himself did; they sang for t
In a small countryside village, Victor was sitted in front of his TV in a little cottage. He quietly listened to the news about Richard's shooting and watched the accompanying video of the shooting displayed by the news channel, in the same chair he had sat down and listened to the news of Chris Bolton's kidnap about two weeks back. Things certainly didn't look so good. Whoever had shot Richard had the worst possible timing. Victor knew Thomas Bolton well enough to be worried that the raging lunatic might plan to do something really dangerous to Michael Bolton and his young son and Victor wondered if it was finally the moment himself and Michael had spoken about all those years ago? Victor could still clearly remember and give an accurate account of that day and the events that had led down to it. He saw himself at that moment, in his minds eye as he had been about 29 years ago; a raging teenager full of so much anger, spite and hatred and begging a gang to allow him in as their membe
Victor got up from his chair and headed into his kitchen to grab a glass of whiskey and then headed back through his living room and out the door to sit on the rocking chair in his front porch. He was still deep in his walk down memory lane. He could remember how hard he had fought not to laughter when his seemingly obnoxious attacker had told him the gang he had been desperately trying to join, had only given him that test with the hopes that he'd get killed. Where had the wacko gotten such a ridiculous idea from? Victor had immediately told him he was saying nonsense and had dared him to release from his cuffs if he wasn't scared, but his attacker had only laughed at that and told Victor he had to be new to the area to actually accept a task of trying to kill him because every gang in the area knew better than to ever try to start a fight with him or his brother as their two man gang was the most dreaded. He must have sensed that Victor still thought he was saying nonsense because
"I'm telling you ladies, something about this affair of Richard being shot definitely sets off warning alarms in my guts," Chris Bolton said as he slid of his stool at the kitchen counter in the Kitchen of the Bolton's Mansion where himself and the three ladies had agreed to meet up the next day. He walked up to the freezer and retrieved a bucket of ice-cream then he grabbed four spoons and headed back to his stool. He passed the spoons around and Rose and Sarah calmly accepted theirs but Monica declined taking hers with a wave of her right hand and a tight lipped smile. No one seemed to see it as odd though because the conversation went on smoothly."I don't know," Sarah said with her eyes squinted as if she was trying hard to focus on getting her thoughts together. "I do get what you mean about the shooting being off. I mean, anyone who watched the video could tell that, whoever the shooter was, they had most certainly not shot at Richard with killing him being their end game," she
Thomas Bolton was sitted in his study and going through his finances with his Chief Financial Officer. He knew he wasn't really feeling up to it but he had called him in deliberately. He wanted to keep himself looking busy and unaffected by Richard's condition because he was Thomas freaking Bolton and he would never let anyone have even the smallest idea about how he was feeling. To him showing emotions was a weakness because it gave your enemy an advantage over you and you could never really know who your enemy was so it was just best to not let anyone in on your emotions. Yes, Richard was growing on him and he had began to gradually develop a little soft spot for him and what had happened to him had affected him a little but he wasn't going to let it show, not even the brat would know. He would just strictly go about business as usual and put on an unaffected front for all and so far, even he knew he was putting on a really good show and doing a really good job of it. He went on put
Thomas Bolton ended a call and hurried out of his lounge and headed straight to his room where he hurriedly changed out of his indoor clothes of a grey T-shirt, a pair or black sweatpants and a black robe and into a pair of black pants, a black dress and wjdb a navy blue blazer then he hurriedly attended to his hair and put on some perfume and hurriedly walked to his door where he paused for a moment to try to compose himself and school his features into their normal state of not giving away his emotions. When he was sure he had everything under control he calmly opened the door and walked out calmly like he wasn't in any sort of hurry whatsoever. I'm the same manner he walked downstairs and out the door and straight into his vehicle which was waiting in the middle of six escort vehicles then the convoy pulled out of the driveway and joined the stream of vehicles on the road. It had been four days since Richard had been shot and Thomas had just been called almost an hour ago with the