Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
She nodded, and I hooked a finger at her, and then stepped back into the hallway. She sidled up beside me—too close—but I forged ahead and pointed toward the ceiling corner. “There.”
She squinted. “What are we looking at?”
I reached up and angled a small decorative vent slightly to the side. A tiny camera lens glinted behind it.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh!”
“Those are monitored twenty-four seven. If it’s not Apollo himself, we've got some guys in Chicago watching remotely. Same with the hallways, exterior doors, and common areas. I know you heard me earlier, but it bears repeating. Bedrooms are only activated once an alarm has been triggered.” I stepped back into the bedroom and pointed at the smoke detector. “You ever see a red light on that thing, you come directly to me. Either someone is watching and I need to scoop out their eyeballs, or shit has hit the fan and I need you close.”
“Redlight equals felony removal of eyeballs. Got it.”
“There are no cameras in the bathrooms. If you feel more comfortable changing in there, great. Though if anything goes down and we ever get separated, do not hide in there.”
She visibly blanched. “You mean, like I did with Marty.”
My gut soured as she withered right before my eyes.
“Not the same.” I rushed out. “None of that was your fault.”
She nodded, but a tear still escaped.
Fuck.
I’d been a dick to Lofton Beck more times than I could count. Hell, I’d seen her cry during damn near every interaction we’d had. But standing there in her childhood bedroom, a tear sliding down her cheek, the reality hit different.
This wasn’t some arrogant Hollywood star.
She was just a normal girl who had humble beginnings in rural America who somehow made it big. She’d lost her mother, and her father was fading right before her eyes. Her celebrity status didn’t make her immune to life’s biggest challenges.
Thank God I hadn’t been living under a microscope when my life imploded. My trauma and bad decisions were buried in the recesses of my mind, not trending on social media.
No makeup, messy hair, Lofton was just a scared woman, embarrassed by the condition of her home as she struggled to make sense of the most traumatic day of her life.
“Hey,” I rasped, walking over to her. It crossed all kinds of boundaries. Boundaries I had all but carved in stone with her, but I curled my hand around the side of her neck and tipped her head back.
Surprised, she sucked in a sharp breath, one hand landing on my pec for balance.
But she made no attempt to move away from me.
“You did the right thing.” I told her. “You kept yourself and Zoey alive. That house was not wired this way. I have eyes in the sky here. Marty did not. Someone pulls off a miracle and gets in here, I need you visible because I will find you and I will keep you safe.”
Her lip quivered, those damn tears overflowing, slicing me to the core.
She nodded, but it wasn’t enough.
“Tell me you understand.”
Her breaths came faster, her exhales breezing across my skin. “I understand.”
Searching her gorgeous face, I drew in a breath, holding it until it burned, relishing the pain.
I shouldn’t have made her cry again.
I shouldn’t have touched her.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this fucking job at all.
All at once, I released her and stepped away.
I pointed toward the door at the other end of the room. “My room through there?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
Straightening my shoulders, I regained my composure. “You need anything else from me?”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times and then sealed her perfect lips shut.
“Okay. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” I think she said goodnight, but I was already gone, long strides carrying me through a small bathroom. My head was a jumbled mess of things I needed to talk to her about, but I was unwilling to stand in that room with her for even a second longer.
I needed eight hours of sleep, a lobotomy, and…
I froze when I swung open her sister’s bedroom door.
Black walls. Metal band posters. Studded belts hanging from a corkboard. A collection of combat boots lined up along one wall. It looked like a Hot Topic had exploded.
Jenn had the energy that suggested she’d happily elbow someone in the face for fun, but this was still a lot.
“It was a phase,” Lofton said, appearing in the bathroom behind me, holding a small pink toiletry bag. “You should see the pictures of Terry with a mohawk.”
I screwed my eyes shut, but it had not one fucking thing to do with Terry. “It’ll work.”
“At least her bed is a double. If you hear a thud in the middle of the night, don’t worry, it’s just me falling off my twin.”
I turned toward her. “If I hear a thud, I’ll be standing over you before you even open your eyes.”