Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Having hers would have been too tempting.
But the Blackwells have brought my sister into their family, and I needed to know how to reach any one of them in case of an emergency.
Blake’s phone rings three times before he answers.
He wasn’t sleeping. He’s breathing too hard for that.
“What?” he barks into the phone.
“I need help,” I reply. “Your sister was roofied at the bar tonight, and I want to make sure I’m doing everything right.”
“Fuck,” he growls. Then I hear him say, “Sorry, baby, I’ll be right back.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” My voice is as dry as the desert, and Blake doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Tell me everything,” he says, his voice hard.
“I didn’t see him slip it in her drink. I happened to be at the bar, keeping an eye on her.”
“Not creepy at all.”
“Fuck you. This guy started hitting on her, she had a coughing fit, and then sipped her drink, and things got weird. Pretty sure that’s when he slipped it in the glass. He took her outside, and by the time I got there, he already had her pinned against the side of a truck.”
“Jesus Christ. I'm on my way.”
“No need. I beat the shite out of him and brought her home with me, Blake. She threw up before we left the car park.”
“This is my sister, Gallagher. I need to examine her and make sure she’s okay.”
“I hear you, and if she hadn’t thrown up, I would have taken her straight to the hospital.”
He’s silent for a few beats, and I can imagine he’s extremely torn right now. The Blackwell brothers love their baby sister and are very protective of her.
I’ll take her to the hospital if she needs it, but right now, I wonder if she’s better here where it’s quiet with soft lighting. But I don’t fucking know if that’s the right thing.
Blake sighs. “Do you know how much she drank?”
“She said a few sips. She’s been agitated, and she was confused. She’s sleeping now.”
“How’s her breathing?”
It was fast in the car, but as I stare down at her now, she’s breathing in long, slow breaths, like in normal sleep.
“Actually, fuck this.” Blake’s suddenly ringing through with a FaceTime call, and I accept. His hair is a mess, and he’s not wearing a shirt. His jaw is tight. “Show me.”
I turn the camera to my angel and get closer to her.
“Her breathing looks normal to me. She asked for water.”
He’s quiet for a moment, obviously listening to her, and I watch her as well. Christ, she’s beautiful. I fucking hate that this is happening to her.
“Okay, it doesn’t sound like she got much in her. Here’s what you’ll do. You’re going to watch her like a fucking hawk. If she wakes up, get her to drink water. Water is her friend. If she needs to throw up, that’s fine too. If she starts having trouble breathing, you call an ambulance right away. Don’t fuck around with that. I’m assuming she had drinks before that, and that’s where it gets tricky with these fucking drugs. Both alcohol and any roofie are depressants, and that’s when people die. If she didn’t get too much in her, her breathing is good, and she’s already thrown up, I’m comfortable with you keeping her there and watching her. If literally anything changes, you get her to the fucking hospital.”
“Got it. Thank you.” I turn the camera back to me and pace the room.
“No, thank you. Sounds like you saved my baby sister from being raped and fuck knows what tonight.”
I have to sit down because my legs feel like they’re going to give out on me. Both alcohol and any roofie are depressants, and that’s when people die. Fucking hell, thank God I was there.
“I have to call the police. This piece of shite doesn’t get to go free.”
“Call Chase Wild. Do you have his number?”
“Yeah, after the mess with Skyla earlier this year, I have his number.”
“He’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks. Go back to your … date.”
“I plan to.”
He hangs up, and I immediately dial Chase Wild, who does sound sleepy. After giving him the same rundown, he asks, “Do you have a name?”
“No.”
“Then how am I supposed to find the son of a bitch?”
“Check the hospital,” I suggest. “I broke his nose and his wrist. Maybe his jaw. He’ll be needing medical attention.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Good. Fucker. There’ll be video surveillance of that parking lot. I’ll take care of it. He might press charges against you for assault.”
“I’m fucking terrified.” My voice couldn’t get any drier.
“I’ll need to talk to Billie.”
“When she’s conscious, I’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks, Connor.”
I hang up and drag my hand down my face, then watch Billie, still sleeping on the couch. I grab her water and head to my bedroom, where I change my clothes, tossing away the shirt with the vomit and blood on it, and set out one of my T-shirts for her. I grab her phone out of my pocket and set it by the bed, then I return to her downstairs and see that she hasn’t moved.