Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Part of me wanted to know their significance, and the researcher in me was dying to take a closer look at the beauty before me. It was like a historical museum you’d see in Italy or Spain with cathedral ceilings and gold, avant-garde design and layout.
She handed me a bottle of 1942 tequila, yanking my attention back to her.
“You’re going to need it. This is going to hurt.”
I did as I was told, chugging down a few swigs. The liquor flowed through my chest, warming up my insides. I was used to drinking Peruvian liquor, Pisco, so this was new to me. She crouched to the floor by my feet, sitting on her knees while she pulled out a needle and thread.
“Whoa…” I called out. “You know how to stitch?”
“I could…” she warily replied. “But you’d probably pass out from the pain. You’re not my brother or his Brotherho…” she corrected herself, “friends.”
Quickly feeling the effects of the alcohol, I questioned, “How often do you stitch up your brother?”
She sighed, rummaging through the kit. “Often enough.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “He’s a dumbass.”
“So he gets into fights?”
She shrugged again. “He does fence and crossbow. Not just for the Academy, but for competitions and stuff…” She changed the subject, pulling out a tube. “I have medical adhesive. It’ll hold the edges of your cut as long as you don’t keep ripping it open. It’ll heal too.”
“You’re just going to glue me back together, Deja?”
“I can if you want me to. If not, I can call our family doctor to make a house call. Your decision.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want this getting back to my uncle.”
“How are you going to hide it from him?”
“Considering I’ve barely seen him in the last five weeks, I highly doubt it’s going to be an issue.”
“I hate to break this to you, Hennessy… odds are, your uncle already knows.”
“How?”
“Secrets don’t stay hidden here.”
“Except for mine, right?”
She ignored my question, throwing back her own, “How about you tell me what happened while I fix you up because I don’t know.”
I didn’t waver. “Can I trust you, Deja? Are we friends?”
She eyed me cautiously for a moment, giving me more anxiety.
Unable to take the silence, I shared, “I went to the district this evening.”
She reached for my arm, starting to clean me up. “That town is dead. Most of it is under construction. Nobody goes there anymore. We haven’t in years.”
“Alfred suggested it.”
“Who’s Alfred?”
“Oh… umm… Jones, I think.”
“Your driver?” she acknowledged, looking up at me.
“Yeah.”
Her gaze connected with mine. “Why would he…?” She stopped herself. “What did you find?”
“So you know I found something?”
“You tell me.”
“You Devereauxs,” I sassed. “You’re amazing at avoiding questions.”
“Hennessy, I’m trying to help you.”
“You can’t help me. Your family hates me. Especially your brother.”
“Trust me,” she confirmed. “It’s not hate that he feels for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just tell me what you found.”
With my good arm, I grabbed my cell phone out of the pocket in my dress, showing her the pictures I’d taken.
Her eyes sharpened, immediately ordering, “You need to delete those! Now, Hennessy!” She was about to do it herself, but I snatched it out of her hands.
“Hell no!” I argued. “It’s the only proof I have!”
“Wrong!” She inhaled a deep breath. “That’s evidence! I’m serious, Hennessy, you need to delete those.”
“Or what?”
“Or someone is going to come looking for them to delete it themselves.”
“Who? How?” Now I sounded like a fucking owl. “Nobody was in there with me. How would they know—”
“That museum is filled with cameras.”
I never told her where I found them. “It’s being remodeled.”
“All the more reason to have it surrounded by surveillance.”
“Jesus…” I abruptly stood, yanking my arm out of her grasp. “What the hell is going on, Deja? I just got chased in the woods!”
She didn’t seem fazed by what I just admitted. Instead, she concluded, “Is that how you cut your arm?”
“No, I did that by breaking into the museum.”
“So you left fingerprints?”
With wide eyes, I exclaimed, “What the fuck? Is that who was chasing me? They saw I was in the museum from the cameras? Are these the people who are going to tell my uncle?” I didn’t stop. I was too far gone. “Are you those people, Deja? Are the Devereauxs after me? Why? What does it have to do with my father and my uncle?” I was so out of breath, I had to rest.
Feeling a little dizzy, I grabbed my head.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
This time, we didn’t speak until she was finished bandaging my wound. Mostly because it hurt like hell. The liquor wasn’t helping.
Once she was done, she softly asked, “Do you know who was chasing you?”
“They weren’t actually chasing me. They were—”
She didn’t have to be told anymore, confirming for me…
* * *
“Hunting you.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Hennessy: What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.