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Billionaire's Row
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Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Billionaire’s Row
Copyright © 2010 by Sullivan Wheeler
Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where
permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press,
4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61581-520-3
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
July, 2010
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-521-0
For Shawn L.
Billionaire’s Row | 1
M ICHAEL W EISS was sound asleep when the phone rang. The noise
brought him around, and the hangover was waiting there to clobber
him. His mouth tasted vaguely of vomit and his tongue felt too big. As
every subsequent ring made his skull feel as though it might shatter, he
made the same vow he’d been making a couple of times a month for
most of his adult life: I will never again have another drink . He’d been
making that promise a lot more often lately. A quick glance at the clock
confirmed it was an ungodly hour—5:04 a.m. Michael didn’t so much
answer the phone as groan into it.
It was his partner at the Ponte Bonita Police Department,
Detective Alejandro “Andy” Reyes, and despite the hour, Andy was
wide awake and chipper. “Yo, Mike. We got a body.” He sounded
delighted.
Michael groaned. “It’s Sunday, Andy.”
“Perps don’t take Sundays off,” Andy said. “Let’s saddle up.”
Andy was fond of ridiculous cop phrases like this.
“Where?”
“Ocean View Boulevard.”
Michael paused while this information penetrated his hangover-
fogged brain. “Really?”
“That’s what they tell me. I’m on my way there now. See you in
fifteen?”
“Twenty.”
“Take your time, pal,” Andy said with a laugh. “This guy ain’t
going nowhere.”
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