Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Sleep would not come, and I turned on the bed, restless for a long time.
Eventually, there was soft knock at my door, but I ignored it. I was sure it was him, and my resolve to stay off the Jason merry-go-round was powerfully strong. He knocked louder the second time.
There really was no point in not answering, other than it made me feel better. He had a key.
So it wasn’t surprising when there was the mechanical click of the lock, the door swung open, and Jason stepped in. He looked . . . nervous.
For the second time in two days, I told him to get out and he ignored me, shutting the door behind him.
“I am a liar.”
I sat up, causing the covers to gather around my lap as I stared at him. Judging by his anxious expression, more was coming, but he hesitated.
“I do want you.” It was the first time I’d heard his voice unsteady. “Badly. But we can’t.”
I let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and sadness. “I know.”
“Do you?” He approached the bed, looking adrift in his emotions. “If we’d met somehow under different circumstances, maybe—”
“Please, don’t.” I didn’t want to hear about what-ifs. Didn’t want to know what I couldn’t have. “Thank you for saying it, though.”
He nodded soberly. After a moment of silence, he asked the question we were both wondering. “Are we . . . okay?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but an enormous explosion thundered from down the hall. It was a booming sound of destruction whose blast shook the windows and floor.
“What was that?” I shrieked.
He drew his gun, and it was like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “It sounded like a grenade.”
Shock froze me in place, but not him. He kept the barrel of his gun trained on the door even as he moved to pull two bulletproof vests from the closet.
“Bathroom.” His word was urgent and forceful and broke my stupor.
I leapt out of bed, grabbed the vests he extended toward me, and sprinted into the small room, my feet cold on the tile floor. Once inside, I could see his reflection in the mirror. He threw the security latch on the main door, flipped off the lights, and followed me in.
Anxiety made it impossible to breathe.
It was eerily quiet outside, so when he clicked the flimsy lock on the bathroom door, it made me flinch. He didn’t notice and instead grabbed the larger of the two vests from my shaking hands. His gaze stayed fixed on the bathroom door, breaking his concentration for only a single moment while he slipped the vest over his head.
Jason made it look easy, but getting the bulky bulletproof vest on was a struggle. Panic had rendered my hands useless. My floundering drew his focus, and when he glanced over, he saw my problem and yanked my vest down with no concern if it hurt. He had to use both hands, one still gripping his gun, to cinch it closed.
“Get down in the tub.”
My bare feet squeaked on the icy porcelain. There wasn’t time for him to explain, so I followed his orders without question or hesitation. He slapped the lights off, plunging us into darkness, and stepped into the tub. For being so large, it was startling how quickly and efficiently he could move. He dropped down to cram in beside me, and metal rollers squealed as he drew the curtain closed.
He probably barely fit in the tub on his own, so it was much worse with me beside him. We were on our sides, both facing the curtain, which put him between me and the door. My hands curled around the shoulder straps of his vest, desperate for something to cling to.
“Whatever happens,” he said hushed and urgently, “you stay with me. Got it?”
“Got it,” I breathed.
In the dark, there was nothing to do but wait and listen.
Sounds of gunfire erupted from down the corridor, and my heart stopped. I was going to die in a motel bathroom.
At least you won’t die alone.
It sounded as if people were going door by door. Jason was as still as a statue. Perhaps he was running different scenarios, trying to determine the one for maximum success, one where we didn’t both end up filled with holes.
Shouting just outside the door resulted in a large volley of shooting.
“Get ready,” he whispered.
I took one hand off his shoulder and used it to cover my mouth, to stifle any screams I might make. I couldn’t see much in the dark of the bathroom and through the shower curtain, but I closed my eyes anyway.
Wood splintered under a burst of gunfire that was followed by the sound of the main door breaking down. I had no idea how many men there were, but it had to be a team.