Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I spin around just in time to see Mr. Talbot closing the door behind him and turning several locks.
Holy shit!
When Holden kept saying this could be a trap, I thought he’d totally lost it. I figured it was just his own weird way of frustrating me, reminding me I’m not good enough for Mr. High and Mighty Single Dad one more time, even if he wasn’t doing it consciously.
But now…
“Sit down, Miss Blackthorn. Please,” Mr. Talbot clips, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.
My heart hangs in my throat, beating ferociously as I scan the room again, trying to take in as many details as I can before I move.
That’s what Holden would do, but if there’s a threat, where?
I already regret sending him away, hating how Talbot jumped at the mere suggestion.
I can’t breathe.
I just see his shocked, pained face when I told him to leave.
He knew.
He knew and I made him stand down. Like a spoiled brat, I puffed up and insisted I could handle this alone.
Nothing like a little life to prove me wrong.
Time slows as my eyes dart to every corner.
Pretty, pretty paintings on the wall.
A desk stacked with neat papers and an expensive looking iMac next to Fairfax and his bulging eyes.
A huge vase filled with flowers on a side table, flush with gold details I’d stop to admire if it was any other time.
A window that probably looks out to a side street, covered by thick blinds.
The entire museum is set back from the road, ringed by a black iron fence. Even if I could jump out, there’s no easy, clear escape.
Plus, the door is locked. That’s why Talbot stares me down, stopping by the side of the desk, waiting impatiently for nothing good.
I’m definitely trapped and I don’t know why.
Dragging a slow, harsh breath into my lungs, I face the curator again, who’s pacing by the desk. My hands shake.
“Sit down,” he says, harsher this time.
Yikes. Why didn’t I notice how nervous he looked this morning?
But I didn’t want to acknowledge the faintest possibility that Holden might be right. I wanted to prove I wasn’t helpless and I never wanted to see him again.
Bitter, catty stuff, and now it’s caught up with me.
I edge toward the seat, biting back the urge to run to the door and scream. I wonder if Holden would even hear me.
It’s an old building and these walls look thick.
The only thing left is to listen to whatever sick demand they’re about to make. I’m their captive in what should be the safest place around.
“Good, good. Thank you,” Mr. Talbot whispers with relief. He collapses on the edge of the desk, throwing his long legs over it as he buries his face in his hands.
What. Is. Happening?
…and if I’m their prisoner, what do they want? Why do they both look like they’re at a funeral?
“Guys, what’s going on? Tell me!” I yell, hugging the black briefcase to my chest like a shield.
Talbot looked hungry enough when he first laid eyes on it. It’s weird he isn’t insisting I hand it over or trying to rip it from my hands.
He looks up miserably, but he doesn’t move.
Fairfax sighs, dragging a hand down his face, showing off his red, raw eyes.
“They… they have Steven,” he whispers numbly. “Took him hostage at my own office.”
Steven. His son.
The bright young man in the lab coat who looked like he was holding the Holy Grail when he got a good look at the egg.
“Hostage? Who has him?” My blood chills.
I glance at Talbot again, who shakes once with a terrible, strangled sob. He nods slowly, erratically as he looks up, his eyes clouded.
“My wife. My two-year-old baby girl,” he mutters, pressing his head against his fingers so hard his knuckles go white. “They’re both at home in the basement right now with armed men. They’re dead if I don’t do this. Oh God, forgive me…”
I cannot believe what I’m hearing.
It’s like seeing a spaceship materialize above you. You can’t possibly believe it, even when you’re drenched in terror.
“But how? How can that be?” I clutch the briefcase tighter, knowing it’s pointless.
Maybe with Holden here, I’d have a fighting chance, but I let Talbot send Holden away.
I sent him away.
It’s my turn to catch a case of watering eyes.
Fairfax looks so desperate it scares me as he looks my way again, like he’s trying to tell me something, some silent secret I don’t want.
My heart pounds on. I’m worried I’ll black out.
I still have my phone.
Is it too late to call Holden? Text him? Dial the police?
“But what happened, guys? Who’s doing this?” I demand.
They stare at me blankly, then they share a defeated look, like the first man who answers drops dead.
Then a side door painted gold swings open.
A tall, rough man steps out, emerging from what looks like a storage room, this dark space piled with boxes and covered objects leaning against the wall.