Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
No one said anything.
So Luna pressed, “Anyone else gonna vote?”
“It’s hard to leave them hanging high and dry when we now have a prime suspect,” Jess replied. “Some of them have been gone for years.”
“I don’t want to leave them high and dry either,” Luna returned. “I hate the idea. It’s fucked up. But we, in fact, are not Charlie’s Angels, so until you can go hand-to-hand with four assailants without messing up your hair, maybe we should dial it back.”
“It’s my fuckup,” I put in. “It got us something, but it was smack in ground zero. I was cocky. Now, I’ll email ‘We,’ give them what we got and tell them we feel the danger level has elevated significantly, so we’re dialing it back.”
“Raye—” Jessie began.
“Jess, love you, babe, but I think you missed it. That was a direct threat from that guy. He sees me, or any of us again, he’s not going to stay leaning against his car. And I already lost two people I love in my life due to shit like this. I’m not going to lose anymore.”
That ended the discussion.
So we drove back to The Parking Spot in silence, and we did it feeling shit.
I was used to feeling shit like this.
And now I wished I hadn’t dragged my girls to that place with me.
I was in a bad mood for obvious reasons when I let myself into my apartment after dropping off the girls.
The only good thing was that I saw Cap’s Porsche in a visitor spot (I mean, seriously, how did he always score those?), which meant, when he told me what he was doing shouldn’t take long, he wasn’t blowing sunshine, and now, he was safe home.
At least that was something.
I walked into my place to see the light on over the stove, which wasn’t a lot of illumination.
Even so, I saw Cap sitting on the couch.
Patches was curled up beside him, but they weren’t cuddling and waiting for me.
No.
Cap had his long arms spread across the back of the couch, his legs open in a seriously aggressive manspread, and I could feel his eyes burning into me like lasers.
“Where have you been?” he asked in that ominous quiet voice of his.
Considering this seemed to be a dicey situation, and I tardily realized I should have left a note or shot him a text, I came in and put my burner, keys and the pictures of the women on the coffee table, before I shared, “After you left, I had an idea and rallied the girls to go look into it.”
“And you didn’t take your phone?”
“Clarice told us—”
“Fuck Clarice,” he clipped. “Always take your fucking phone.”
I stood in front of him like a naughty schoolgirl, and not the fun, role-playing kind.
And I didn’t like it.
Right.
Considering what happened the last time we had words, I suggested, “I think we both need to breathe a little before any more is said.”
“This is me, Rachel, breathing. If I wasn’t breathing, I’d be in your space, shouting in your face.”
“Cap—”
“I came home at two in the morning, and I didn’t know where you fucking were.”
Eek!
I copped to it immediately. “I should have left a note.”
“You should have left a note and taken your phone.”
“I don’t think Clarice wants—”
“I don’t give a fuck what Clarice wants, Raye.” He dipped his head to the coffee table. “Do you have my number in that burner?”
“No.”
“So you get in a situation, how are you gonna contact me?”
“I’ve memorized it.” And I had, for just that occurrence (and, obviously, because he was my guy).
“So someone finds your dead body, mutilated beyond recognition, how are they gonna find who to give the death notice too?”
That was a little dramatic.
Sergio Duzek sprang to mind.
Okay, that was appropriately dramatic.
“We were just talking to a night clerk at a motel,” I told him.
It ended up more than that, but I’d share that part later.
“I got home, you not here, knowing you’re working some shady fuckin’ business, which means rubbing up against shady fuckin’ characters, no note, I call you, and your phone vibrates on the goddamned nightstand.”
I knew how that felt, and I’d fucked up.
Royally.
I took a step around the coffee table to get closer to him, and said pacifyingly, “Okay, Cap. That wasn’t cool. You woke me to tell me you were leaving, I should have shared why I’d gone and where so you’d know if you got home before me. Next time, I’ll do that.”
“You need to be really fuckin’ smart doing this kind of shit on the streets, Rachel,” he shared something I’d already learned that night. “And you not having the presence of mind to leave a note does not make me feel great about you being able to be as smart as you need to be.”
I opened my mouth to retort, because I’d screwed up, but he was prodding something that was hella sensitive in that mo’. He lifted his hand to stop me from talking.