Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“He’s onto me.”
“Who?”
“The subject.”
“You mean Rex—”
“Don’t say it,” she hisses and lowers her voice. “Call him Kingpin.”
Adrenaline slices through me, more potent than caffeine. I’m awake now, standing by the bed. “What is going on? Where are you?”
“I was digging, like you asked. The next thing I know, there’s a SWAT team at my door.”
“What?”
“He swatted me, Swallow. He knew I was digging, and he wants me to stop.”
“Gods. . .”
“I must have flagged something when I tried to hack his servers. He toyed with me. Let me breach a wall or two, all while he was getting a lock on my location. Then, he blocked my connection and sent the SWAT team. He knew where I lived.” She’s close to hyperventilating.
“Where are you? Are you safe?”
“I’m on the run. I don’t know. . . A guy with these skills. . . nowhere is safe. Shit fuck, Inara!” she bursts out, then sighs. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Shit fuck is right.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m okay.” She repeats it like she’s trying to convince herself.
I’ll get him to back off, I want to tell her. A sledgehammer of guilt slams into me. She doesn’t know I’m in contact with him. That I’ve been with him intimately. She’s freaking out, on the run, and I’ve been dreaming of him. . .
“We shouldn’t talk long,” Mina says. “I’m going dark. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Wait!” I scramble to my feet. “Did you get anything? Can you send me what you have?”
“I’ll send it. Memorize this.” She reads off a string of numbers and repeats it until I can repeat it back.
“That’s the code to a locker at Grand Central Station.”
“Which locker?”
“My favorite number, repeated. Give it a few days for the package to arrive.”
I sag back onto the bed. My hand lands on a rich stretch of wool. The coat Rex sent me.
Damn him.
After Mina’s call, I can’t fall back asleep. In the gray light of morning, I swing by Grand Central Station and find locker six-nine-six-nine. The passcode works, but there’s nothing there yet. Of course not. Mina is on the run, but if she’s promised to mail things, she will.
Is Rex hunting her like he does with others? Like he’s doing with me?
A hot flash of feeling surprises me. Not just anger—jealousy. I stuff it down immediately. I’m not jealous that Rex paid attention to my friend. Besides, what he did to Mina and what he’s doing with me is totally different. He sent me flowers, a dress, and a wool coat. He sent a SWAT team to her house.
He can’t get away with that. I won’t let him.
I step onto the street, and the first thing I see is Rex’s face in print. The papers have pictures of the NRPD gala, Rex Roy featured prominently in several shots. He doesn’t have a bad angle. His dark eyes practically burn through the page.
How do people not see it? It’s so clear to me, the darkness in him.
I buy a paper and bring it to work, where I lay it out and scrutinize it. There are no photos of me dancing with him. But, deep on the back pages, I find mention of Mr. Martin’s obituary and funeral.
Rex Roy stares up at me in black and white. I have to find evidence connecting him to these crimes. I have to avenge Mina and nail him. I have to solve this case and make him pay for what he’s done. And I have to do it before he consumes me.
I grab the page and crumple it in my fist.
“Hey,” Burgess protests. “I would’ve read that.”
I ignore him and rise from my desk, drawing on my leather jacket. It’s too cold to wear, but I’ll be damned if I wear anything Rex sent me after what he’s done to my friend.
“Where are you going?” Burgess asks.
“I’m going to interview someone.”
“Who?”
I toss the crumpled newspaper onto his desk. “Him.”
He uncrumples it and scrambles to his feet. “Wait—”
I’m already striding out the door.
As I exit the precinct, I catch sight of the now familiar black town car. It’s turning, so I can’t catch sight of the driver, but I’d bet it’s Ivan.
I pull out my phone and text Sir. I really need to change his name in my phone.
You’re still watching me.
The reply is instant.
Sir: Watching OVER you.
I ignore the fluttery feeling in my gut. This game ends now. I take a moment to change Sir to RR, then use my phone to map the location of Roy Enterprises headquarters. It’s near Times Square, a few blocks from here.
“Ramos.” It’s Burgess, huffing and puffing as he falls into step beside me. “Are you nuts? You can’t interview Rex fucking Roy.”
I keep walking.
“Whaddya think you’re gonna do? Walk right in? These guys have layers and layers of people to make sure they don’t see anyone they don’t wanna see.”