Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
The driver was returning, so I ignored a very different feeling that came over the back of the car. I pointed at him. “He’s back.”
He opened the door. Ashton got out first and stepped aside to let me lead the way.
I did, ignoring the clerk and a couple other customers inside. The bathroom was empty, thank god, but the lock was pitiful. Holding my bladder, as if that worked, I hauled the giant garbage bin over to block the door. The thing was hella heavy, so it’d do. After that, heaven and relief and yes.
That’s when my phone pinged in my pocket.
I pulled it out, seeing that reception had come back at some point, and saw thirty text messages, sixteen voice messages, and a whole host of other alerts. Holy shit . . .
Pialto: WHAT THE HAT, WOMAN?! WHERE ARE YOU?
Pialto: Sorry. What the what. Auto-duck.
Pialto: Your cousin won’t tell us anything!
Sophie: Where are you? Are you alive? Did you have a one-night stand and it’s amazing and you’re taking a day? Please please please tell me that’s what is going on and not something else.
Sophie: Your cousin! Asshole!
Sophie: P is here and we’re both worried. Your cousin told us we could take a week off. What is going on? I’m really worried about you.
Pialto: WE WERE JUST AT YOUR APARTMENT AND THERE WAS NOTHING IN IT?
Sophie: did you mean to move and get a new door?
Pialto: Mrs. Tulip just got back from visiting her sister. She’s beside herself that you’re gone and she didn’t know. She’s blaming herself.
Sophie: Oh, dear. Do you know Mrs. Tulip’s phone number? Could you let her and myself all know you’re okay?
Sophie: Super worried.
Sophie: Love you so much.
Pialto: Is this because of your father? I swear, I SWEAR, I will crack his head open on the pavement the next time I see him.
Pialto: Where are you?
Sophie: Where are you????
Pialto: That’s it! I’m tracking down that cop friend of yours. She will get it done. I know she will.
Pialto: Do you have her phone number?
Sophie: P’s going to get ahold of Jess. I’m not saying this is the best plan, but we’re really worried about you. Your cousin could tell us you’re okay, but he refuses. He’s holding this over our heads. I think he’s enjoying that we’re so worried.
Pialto: Glen is an asshole. Also, I got Jess’s number.
Pialto voice mail (8)
Sophie voice mail (7)
Jess voice mail (2)
Unknown number voice mail
I couldn’t listen to them all, but I’d do what I could do.
Me to Pialto and Sophie in a group message: I’m okay. I’m still with Ashton Walden. Some stuff is going on, but I can’t tell you or you’ll be in danger. I’ll be fine, though. Ashton’s made it very obvious that he doesn’t want me dead.
Pialto calling.
Sophie calling.
I declined both.
Me: I can’t talk now, but I’ll call as soon as I can. Promise!!!
Me: Can you get Mrs. Tulip’s number for me?
Me: Jess, I’m fine. I’m okay. My dad is in something. I’ll call and tell you what’s going on as soon as I can.
Gahhhh. I didn’t want to lie to her. She was a friend and a good friend, but I couldn’t get Ashton’s words out of my head. “I am trying to keep you off the radar of my best friend and Miss Montell . . . the sooner we find out who killed . . . the sooner all of this can be put to an end.”
My phone was going crazy, so I silenced it and stuffed it in my pocket as I finished in the bathroom. It kept buzzing, but I ignored it. I’d have to turn it off and was just pulling it out to do that when I moved the garbage bin aside and left the bathroom.
Two steps out, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
It was silent. No voices. No scuff sounds from sneakers on the linoleum. No register ringing up customers. No bell over the door as people would come in and out. Total and complete silence.
I looked up and froze.
Three customers were huddled by the freezer section while Ashton and his driver had their guns up, aiming at two other men who were just inside the entry door. Those guys were in jeans and bomber jackets, and they looked like middle-aged men. Dark features. Greasy hair. They weren’t slim, but they looked almost solid muscle except for a bit of a paunch in their stomachs. Both were white, their skin was almost puffy and blotchy. One looked flushed. The other had tanned way too much.
They had their guns up, but were more relaxed in their stance, or looking like it.
One was saying, “. . . you wanna come into our territory, you gotta call ahead. Pay the toll. You think you can use our toilets without getting our permission? I don’t think so. Times have changed.”