Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My skin was sweaty, even naked and standing on cold marble.
Christ, I was always a terrible judge of character. I was the one who missed all the signs that someone was going to end up being psycho. It probably had something to do with the fact that my mother could never keep a man, including my father. Or a job. She had a knack for getting herself in ridiculous situations. One after another, year after year. Her only requirement for a guy was his pocketbook, which had led me into the homes of four different stepfathers growing up who often seemed great at first and then turned out to be… problematic. Only last week, she’d called crying because it hadn’t worked out with Tom, her man of the month, who lived in Texas. I’d had to send her money because she had no place to live and no hireable skills to get a job there.
Casey, my college roommate and best friend, always insisted she do a check on every guy I dated after the time I ended up with a nut job who wanted me to be his mama and then with a creepy stalker who wouldn’t understand I didn’t want to have a second date.
But Casey hadn’t been here last night to sniff out Roy.
Had I made a terrible mistake? Sure, Roy had helped me get away from the bad guys, but I’d also slept with him without even knowing his last name then stayed the night. I felt a little nauseated realizing I was more like my mother than I thought. I tried to do everything she didn’t do. Get good grades. Go to college on a scholarship. Get a steady job that would never become outdated. Uncle Sam always wanted tax money.
Oh God. I had to get out of here. I was mortified I’d pulled a Mom. I had to wonder if she’d ever slept with a murderer before. God, that made it even worse because I probably had. I should’ve known things didn’t add up!
A woodworker staying in a gorgeous penthouse suite at the Four Seasons? Duh!
I didn’t know what he really was, other than a guy who could kill two men with his bare hands then use those same hands on me to finger fuck me to a screaming orgasm.
My clothes were strewn across the floor in the bathroom, so I quickly put them on.
Opening the door a crack, I peeked into the dark bedroom. All was still quiet. I tiptoed to the open bedroom door to see if Roy was awake. I exhaled when I saw he was still out cold on the sofa.
Stupid woman! You fucked a murderer! My ex was a dipshit, and I thought he was the worst I could do, but man, how I picked them. Maybe I’d used all my red flags up with my work meeting that I had none left for the HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM THAT ROY WAS A MURDERER.
My mind spun like a hamster on a wheel over what I’d done and who–or what–I’d done it with. I didn’t bother to tuck in my shirt, and I held my heels in my hand, making my way to my purse without even breathing. My eyes were on Roy, waiting for him to stir. Or wake up and tell me I was next on his killing spree. But he didn’t move. I paused for a second to wait for his chest to rise then fall, to indicate he was actually alive. He was sleeping that hard.
Then I snuck out. Ran to the elevator and waited for the doors to open as I stepped into one shoe then the other.
Oh my God, I wondered if the mafia guy knew his enforcers were dead? Was he still here, at the hotel?
As I descended to the lobby–because I sure as hell wasn’t getting anywhere near that parking garage and my car–I tucked in my shirt and tried to smooth down my hair. There was only so much I could do. For my choices. My life. Any of it.
When I stepped out the front doors of the hotel, I climbed into the first waiting taxi.
“Where to?” the man asked.
I gave him my address, and I flopped back in the seat. I needed to go home and forget everything that happened. Because I wasn’t going to the police to tell them I slept with the murderer of the dead guys from the news. If I did that, I’d also have to explain the money laundering and how I was involved. I’d initiated the money transfer proving I’d been right there in the mix.
My by-the-books actions gave the police solid evidence I was involved in the crime. I spent the twenty-minute ride to my house wondering if I was going to be arrested. That was why when I tried to put the key in my front door lock, it took me a few seconds to realize the door was slightly ajar. And why, there were two men sitting on my living room sofa.