Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Once the door closes, I rip off the jacket I’m wearing and lift my top to check on my cut. It’s been on fire for the last few hours. There’s bruising discoloring the skin around the bandage and it feels hot to touch. Perfect.
“What a mess I’m in, my little angel,” I coo down at Roza.
My heart swells with affection when she giggles. She’s all I need.
“Just me and you from here on out,” I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair is a beautiful cascade of golden curls that seems to have a mind of their own, always wild and free, just like her precocious, spirited self. Rosetta does a great job of looking after Roza’s hair.
I should call Rosetta. She’s who I genuinely feel sorry for in all this mess.
“Mama!” Roza grins at me, banana smeared all over her cheeks. She enthusiastically begins smacking her spoon off the tray. “Up! Up!”
Removing the tray, I pick her up into my arms, ignoring the pain it causes across my stomach and arms, snuggling my face into her neck. “Bath time, angel.”
After sleeping on Roza’s bedroom floor next to her crib last night, my body hates me. Despite resting for most of the day today, I feel like crap.
I’m so grateful Roza is too young to understand everything that’s going on, and that Jeremiah wasn’t hands-on with her, so she won’t really miss him. It’s harsh but true. Today has been almost normal with our usual routine together. The familiar sounds of her giggles and the soft crinkle of her favorite toys fill the room until my phone starts ringing and buzzing nonstop on the nearby dresser.
Reality forces its way back in.
“Mama loves you,” I tell her, placing her in her crib. “Snuggle your pretty little dolly and get some sleep, baby girl.” I lean down to kiss her soft forehead and pull her favorite fluffy blanket over her small body. Her thumb finds its way into her mouth as her wide, trusting eyes watch me snatch up my phone and leave the room.
I glance at my phone and see a flood of messages and missed calls from more people than I actually know. Some ask for information, while others offer condolences, and the weight of their words press down on me. News spreads fast. The police haven’t even confirmed that it’s Jeremiah’s remains.
My stomach churns when my phone begins ringing in my hand from a withheld number. I take a deep breath, steeling myself before answering. “Hello?”
“Ally.”
Adam.
Shit.
“What the fuck happened? I know you had something to do with this.” His voice drips with accusation, each word sending a tremor through my already frayed nerves.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why did you do that to her?” I manage to inject real fear into my question, hoping my confusion will make him question that maybe I really didn’t have anything to do with any of this mess.
It doesn’t.
“You’ve made a big fucking mistake, woman. I’m coming for you.” His tone is menacing, and I can almost picture the simmering anger in his eyes.
“In twenty years to life?” I shoot back, my bravado being my freaking curse.
“I won’t go down for this. I have an alibi.” He sounds confident, almost too confident.
“Good luck with that,” I reply, trying to maintain my composure.
“I don’t need fucking luck. I have money.”
My heart races, pounding in my chest like a drum. The world around me seems to sway, the walls closing in and rushing back out as if the house is reacting to the weight of his threats.
“I’ll be seeing you real soon,” he threatens in a deceptively calm voice.
The line dies, and his departing words hang in the air like a darkening storm.
Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and the room begins to fade. I don’t feel so good.
Chapter Nineteen
Zahkar
As we enter the hotel lobby, the receptionist approaches us before we can reach the exit. “Sir, there’s a guest here waiting for you in the waiting area.” Rodion raises an eyebrow and glances over my shoulder to where the woman is gesturing. He’s feeling cautious after yesterday, and rightly so. The tension on his face eases as Rita, the real estate agent I’ve been communicating with via email and phone calls, rushes over.
“Mr. Vetrov, sir,” she says, her voice upbeat yet professional. Based on our correspondence and the photo on her website, she's younger than I anticipated.
She extends her petite hand toward me, and when we shake, my larger hand completely envelops hers.
“Sir,” Rodion remarks playfully, biting his lip in a mischievous manner as he grins at me. “I like her.”
“Of course you do,” I reply, unable to suppress a small smile.
“It’s so nice to actually meet you in the flesh. Emails can be so impersonal,” she continues, her cheeks flushing a soft pink when she catches Rodion’s lingering gaze on her face.