Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
My mouth dries instantly. I swallow once, twice, and take a long sip of water to cover the third. “In exchange for what?”
His gaze drops—slow, deliberate. I feel it track over the hoodie and down. “I think we could come up with something.”
Was that an offer or a threat? My body can’t tell the difference. Electrical sparks zing through me. I need to get them under control.
Two of my best friends are tangled up with the most dangerous men alive. I don’t need to collect a third. Especially not when I’m still dating Wesley. I have to keep remembering that. The fact that I have to remind myself isn’t a great sign.
“What did you get from Aquarius’s servers tonight?” Justice asks.
“Nothing,” I say honestly. “Yet. I’m in, but I haven’t found what I want.”
He glances at the five-top near the far wall. “What do you want?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“You are, sweetheart.”
The waitress sets the coffee down between us and lingers for a moment, finally turning away when he doesn’t acknowledge her.
He takes a long sip, then pulls a fifty from his pocket and slides it under the cup. “All right, Ella,” he says, voice low and even. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going with you.” I keep my tone flat, not letting him see the way my pulse kicks. Where is my backup? I pressed the code in minutes ago.
He grins, slow and lazy, then glances around the diner. “You think anyone’s going to stop me? You can walk or you can be carried. Totally up to you, princess.”
“Why?”
“I’m locking you down.” His voice is calm. Almost polite. Like this is standard procedure. He even sounds a little sorry about it, which somehow makes it worse. He’s absolutely confident.
My head snaps up. “No, you’re not. You’re not locking me anywhere.”
“You going to fight me now?” He perks up slightly, like he’d enjoy it.
The door opens, and two police officers walk in—young, fresh-faced, and too clean-cut for this neighborhood. Finally. Geez.
Justice doesn’t flinch, but his gaze flicks toward them. Measuring.
I sigh and look toward the officers. They’re not seasoned, not like the ones who left when the city started to rot from the inside. But they wear the badge. The first walks over to a waitress and whispers something.
She looks around and shrugs as if there’s no problem and she has no clue who called them.
I did. Well, I sent a coded message that there was a problem in the diner. They’d taken longer to arrive than I’d expected. “Excuse me, officer,” I call out, voice pitched just right, not with fear, but with concern.
The guy next to the waitress looks up and heads toward me. He can’t be more than twenty-two and has dark hair and blue eyes. He’s clean-cut in a textbook way. “Did you send out a distress call, ma’am?”
I don’t look at Justice, but anger swells across the table.
Ma’am? What a cutie patootie. “No, I haven’t called anybody.” True statement. “But since you’re here, I’m hoping you can assist me?” I open my eyes wider.
His hand on his holstered weapon, he turns and scans the entire diner before focusing back on me. “It looks like our call was a false alarm. What can I do for you?”
I shrug as helplessly as I can. “Well, I heard there were a couple of robberies around here. I was hoping one of you would walk me to my vehicle. I mean, since you’re already here.”
His gaze shifts toward Justice. “Of course.” He squares his shoulders.
“Thank you. My friend isn’t finished with his coffee.” I look at Justice.
His eyes glitter. I know how dangerous he is and can even see the math in his potential movements. He could take out everyone in the room if he decided to make a statement. Yet that would cause all sorts of problems for him.
“Nice move,” he mutters under his breath.
“Thank you.” I stand, slipping the damaged heel into my pocket.
He doesn’t move. “I’m going to see you real soon, Ella. I promise.”
My smile wavers. “Looking forward to it.” I turn before I can hesitate, stepping toward the cop. “I really appreciate this, officer.”
“You can call me John.” He gives Justice one more look and then gestures toward the door. “I’ll walk you out, miss.”
“Thank you.” I keep my steps quick but steady. I have a healthy fear that Justice will be behind me the second that door swings closed. I’m not ready for what will happen when he catches me.
SIX
Justice
I knock back the last of the Irish whiskey, let it burn its way down, and place the glass on the older wood. The sound it makes is sharper than I intend, but Fergus doesn’t look up from the other side of the desk. He keeps typing, fingers rattling over keys like he’s beating them into submission.