Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
I look at Sutton again with a lump in my throat.
“I should go—” I stop. Go what? Go after him? No way I’m saying that out loud. “I should check on him.”
Sutton nods, letting me gracefully slip away with my tail between my legs.
I come out to the lobby, surveying my surroundings. I don’t find Nick, but the receptionist says, “Are you looking for your friend?”
I nod.
“He went that way.” She points to the door. “Is he okay?”
“Umm—I think so. I’m sorry.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile.
I find Nick in the parking garage standing by his Maserati. He’s still angry, raking a hand through his dark hair, but the color has returned to his face.
“What happened?”
Nick grabs me and presses me tight to his chest.
“Take my car and go see Abby. Try to get something out of her. Everything might hinge on it. I’ll take a cab home. There’s something I forgot,” he whispers, this cryptic, worried look in his eye.
My eyebrow shoots up. “Like what?”
“Tell you later, beautiful. Just trust me.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m going to slam this case shut.”
“Jesus, Nick. You just ran out of that office like it was on fire and left me there. Now you’re sending me to Abby while you take a cab home and...you can’t tell me why?” My lip trembles.
I’m so stupid. I knew something was way off last night, but I bought into his whole changed man act a long time ago. I love him so much it hurts to believe anything else.
“I’ll explain once you’re home. I promise. I have to go,” he clips, beginning to speed walk away.
“You’ve been explaining a lot of things the past few days,” I say glumly.
“And I’ve had good reasons,” he calls coldly over his shoulder.
I don’t have the heart to argue back.
I also don’t enjoy it as I slide into his luxe car—which still smells like mint-infused Nicholas—praying my heart stays intact.
Whatever he’s hiding, whatever he’s not telling me, I hope to everything holy it won’t destroy us.
24
Self-Destruct Sequence (Nick)
“Why couldn’t I come with you?” she asks when she calls me later, her voice trembling like she’s on the edge of tears.
And who can blame her for being suspicious? With my past?
This is entirely my fucking fault.
Too bad Sutton’s meeting put the fear of God in me—namely, a God who doesn’t look kindly on well-meaning idiots who leave hot bricks of stolen coke tucked away at home.
“I love you more than anything, Reese. It’s urgent, and I’ll explain everything as soon as you’re home tonight.” I hope to fuck she trusts me.
Right now, I have to get home and figure out what to do with the brick I forgot about that has my fucking prints all over it.
Just bear with me, sweetheart. I’ve never lied to you and I don’t plan to start now.
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to Abby, but then I’m picking up Millie and heading home. I’m taking the rest of the evening off,” she whispers.
“Anything to help you feel better. We’ll all be together soon, Abby included,” I promise, all the hurt building in my chest coming out in one sentence. “Take care, sweetheart.”
I click off.
Honestly, I hope it’s a promise I can keep. I have no earthly clue what I’m going to do with this shit.
Flush it down the toilet, I guess. Or else risk one more trip with it to a desolate spot of Lake Michigan, where I’ll let it become one with the windswept waters.
So much for evidence. This thing is a goddamned liability, and Sutton reminded me I’m too close to incriminating myself, or else making Frisk’s future case a mistrial.
Shit. Even if I do flush the powder, how do I get rid of the drug-laced plastic covering with my prints? I throw my condo door open and march to my bedroom, still contemplating a solution.
Something rustles in my room. My instincts tingle.
If I thought this would be easy...
Fuck.
I’m actually speechless.
A smiling Carmen turns around, standing near my closet, holding half a cocaine brick in her hand—a very open brick, the white powder peppering her red dress like an inverted murder scene.
A trail of the same floury dust leaves a brutal path from my dresser to my bed.
She’s strewn a fucking cocaine blizzard all over my room.
Getting rid of this shit just got a whole lot more complicated.
“What’s the matter, Nicholas? Aren’t you happy to see me?” she whispers.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I spit.
She smiles. “I’m an actress. Duh. The doorman gave me no problem when I cried and told him I had to tell you about a personal emergency. I showed him a few old pictures of us and he sent me up. I still have my key from years ago—”
Fuck me with a mixer. I need to borrow a time machine and change the locks, right after I finish chewing out security here and then kicking my own ass for sheer idiocy.