Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
I swallow, shaking my head.
“They’re still looking for them, Autumn,” she says. “They all vanished the day before the hearing without a trace.”
Before I can ask how certain she is, she steps closer and flips the folder open, bringing me face to face with a large photograph of a burning mansion.
Ryder’s estate…
“The FBI and the ATF find it quite interesting that his main house burned down when they were in the middle of investigating him for those missing witnesses.” She forces me to flip through more photos, showing me firemen carrying a body bag amidst a wall of flames, a mountain of ash atop his grand water fountain, and charred cars sporting crime scene sashes.
The final picture is a faint image of a shadowy figure looking at the damage from a distance. The note under it reads, ‘Mr. Rochester’s location at the time of fire still not confirmed.’
I shut the folder and toss it into the trunk. “He told me about the fire.”
“I highly doubt it was the truth.”
“He said it was an accident.”
“There’s nothing accidental in this man’s world, Autumn.” She rolls her eyes. “Except you crossing paths with him, probably. Then again…”
“How does he know Nate?” I ask, remembering that she’d mentioned it.
“Banking somehow,” she says. “I have a theory, but I need to go through everything one more time, so if you don’t mind… Follow me to the garage so we can switch,” she says. “I made copies and you can look through the rest of that stuff when you get someplace safe. Call me on one of the burner phones.”
“Kylie, I can’t just abandon everything that I have here.”
“I’m sorry, what exactly do you still have here?” She crosses her arms. “You and Nate are supposedly done, you didn’t make any decent friends, and you hate this city.”
“It’s not just that.”
“I can arrange to have your apartment cleared out and your stuff from storage sent to wherever you go. Somewhere he’ll never find you.”
He’ll definitely find me… “Right.”
“Autumn, you asked me to look into this guy, and I’m telling you to run away. Are you hearing me?”
“I hear you.”
“Then allow me to save you from inevitable danger ahead of time.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “This doesn’t need to be another Canadian situation, you know?”
I nod, fixating on the word danger.
I never told her—never told anyone, but I’ve tasted danger before Ryder.
And I liked it.
Sweet as syrup, it still lingers in my memories from time to time. It beckons me like a moth to a flame but I never minded getting my wings tinged or burned… As long as I knew what I was getting into.
Ryder’s brand of danger is the unknown, but a part of me can’t resist wanting to see if it’s even sweeter than what I had before.
“Do you remember that, Autumn?” Kylie asks. “You got sent home from our senior symphony trip early because you didn’t properly prepare for customs.”
I nod, not willing to travel down that road with her; I wasn’t sent home from Canada for not preparing. I was fucking deported for breaking the law…
“I can’t switch cars with you,” I say, stepping back. “Even if I wanted to… I appreciate the research, truly, but I think we’ll be fine if you just follow me back to my place.”
She narrows her eyes. “I didn’t drive here to have you waste my time, and I… What do you mean ‘even if you wanted to?’”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Come on, follow me.”
“You didn’t agree to work for this man, did you?”
“No, Kylie.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
I say nothing.
“I see.” She shakes her head. “He’s probably stalking and following your every move already then…”
“Can you please just—”
“Stop warning about a dangerous ass crime boss who will probably kill you once you’ve served your purpose?”
“He’s not following me, Kylie.”
Or is he?
A chill rolls down my spine, though the night air is still. I glance toward the corner of the lot, suddenly hyper-aware of the shadows swallowing its edges.
A faint click echoes from behind a nearby pillar—too sharp for rain, too intentional for wind.
“Okay.” She picks up the gun again. “So, if I shouted, ‘I’m about to kill you, Autumn!’ nothing would happen?”
I raise an eyebrow, tempted to call 9-1-1 and get her head checked for damages.
The only sound between us is wind and faint raindrops tapping on our cars.
“Anyway…” I reach for the gun, but she doesn’t give it to me. Instead, she steps back and shouts her weird phrase again.
She shouts again—louder this time.
Silence.
Then, the unmistakable crunch of gravel underfoot.
Before I can tell her she’s lost it, a figure detaches from the shadows—tall, expressionless, his grey suit clinging like second skin. His eyes flick to Kylie, then to me, calculating.
Another man moves behind her in perfect sync, like they’ve been stationed here all along.