Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Now I’m confused. What on earth could—
I gasp.
Sarah.
Oh my God. Was Jonas right? Was Sarah actually in grave danger, just like he predicted? I can barely breathe as I push the “call back” button on my phone.
Josh picks up my call immediately. “Kat?” he says, his voice tight.
“What happened, Josh?” I blurt. “Is it Sarah?” I sit down on the edge of my bed, swallowing hard. This is gonna be bad. This is gonna be really, really bad. I know it is. I suddenly feel like I’m gonna throw up.
Josh exhales loudly. “Sarah’s been stabbed.”
“No,” I blurt.
“She’s at the hospital now. Jonas just called me.” His voice wobbles. “She was attacked in a bathroom at school.”
“No.” Tears instantly flood my eyes. “Sarah.”
“I’m trying to get a flight back to Seattle—not having any luck. I need you to get Sarah’s mom and get over to the hospital as soon as possible, okay?”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Sarah.”
“Kat. Listen to my voice. I need you to get Sarah’s mom and get over to the hospital as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?”
I take a deep breath and wipe my tears. “Okay.”
“Good girl. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I can’t control my emotions anymore. I lose myself to sobs. “Sarah. Oh my God. No.”
Four
Kat
There’s a raging storm outside Sarah’s hospital window, but the rain is no match for my tears. Oh my God, this is the worst day of my life. Sarah’s my best friend. My partner in crime. My rock. We finish each other’s sentences. We laugh ’til we pee. She’s more than my best friend—she’s my sister. We tell each other everything—or, at least, I tell Sarah everything. I’m not sure it works the other way around. But I’ve never cared about that because that’s just Sarah. She’s this weird mixture of shy and reserved and confident and insecure and hilarious and crazy all at once. There’s just nobody like Sarah Cruz. She’s the absolute best.
And some bastard out there purposefully hurt my girl? Just the thought is making me bawl all over again. How could anyone even think of hurting Sarah of all people? The girl wouldn’t hurt a fly. And someone tried to kill her just because she figured out their stupid sex club is actually a prostitution ring? Who the fuck cares? That’s worth killing the best girl in the world over?
I look across the hospital room at Sarah, asleep in her hospital bed. She’s bandaged and hooked up to tubes and wires and monitors. She looks tiny and pale.
I just can’t believe this is happening.
Sarah’s mom is seated next to Sarah’s bed, asleep and draped over her daughter’s bed. And in the corner of the room, there’s Jonas Faraday, the so-called “boyfriend” himself, sitting in a chair that looks way too small for his large body, his muscled arms crossed over his Seattle Seahawks T-shirt. The poor guy looks horribly pained, even in his sleep—distraught, I’d even say. Gazing at him right now, it’s suddenly perfectly clear I’ve completely misjudged him. I had my doubts about his intentions toward Sarah, and I told him so, but looking at him now, he sure looks every bit the devoted and loyal boyfriend. Shit. I wish I’d been nicer to him at his house yesterday morning. The guy gave me a computer and I acted like a total bitch. Classic Kat.
I look at Sarah again and tears squirt from my eyes for the millionth time today.
Sarah always says I’ve got a heart of gold, but she’s wrong. She’s the one who cares so deeply about making the world a better place, not me. She’s the one who’s always thinking about helping people, not me. Compared to Sarah, I’m a downright bitch. And not just a bitch, a horribly reckless bitch. What the fuck was I thinking, trying to seduce my bodyguard? Jonas hired Derek to protect me, not fuck me. Jonas was right all along—the bad guys really were out to get Sarah and maybe me, too, and what did I do? I made the whole thing about me getting my rocks off. I’m so freaking predictable—and so freaking ashamed of myself, I feel physically ill.
But wait a minute. It takes two to tango. Derek was the one who was supposed to be a professional, right? How the hell did he plan to protect me while pounding me? My life was quite possibly at stake and he was macking down on me! Oh my God. Is my life at stake now? I feel like I’m gonna barf. I throw my hands over my face. This whole situation is crashing into me like a ton of bricks.
My phone buzzes in my purse with a text and I pull it out. Josh Faraday. I wipe my eyes. I feel oddly comforted seeing his name on my screen.