Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
He talks about them like they’re all-powerful. “So can they help Logan?”
His lips tighten into a hard line. “Archer’s not a complete idiot. He knows aligning himself against you and Logan means making an enemy of them. But there’s plenty in this city who think it’s time the reign of the Ubelis came to an end and are willing to back him. With his money and his name and frankly his boy-next-door good looks—”
I slam my hands down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “That’s such bullshit! He’s a monster on the inside and Logan is so wonderf—”
Armand takes my hands in his and looks at me gently, his eyes full of compassion. “I know. I know. We’ll find a way out for him. This isn’t the end. I promise. All I’m trying to say is you have friends in high places. And we’ll do everything in our power to help.”
But all I hear is what he isn’t saying. He isn’t saying he has a direct way to help. He isn’t saying they can get Logan out now. All he has are wishes and half-promises. And I appreciate where he’s coming from, I really do. Everyone wants to help.
But it doesn’t mean they can.
I stand on wobbly legs. “Thanks for coming by, Armand. It really means a lot.”
Armand stands and hugs me, but as he does, his hands pat down my back, especially around my shoulder blades. “Are you getting enough to eat? Taking care of yourself?”
He pulls back and holds me by my shoulders, inspecting my face even as I roll my eyes.
“I’m fine, I swear.” It’s mostly true. I’m mostly remembering to eat.
Armand gives my shoulders a slight squeeze. “You have to stay strong for him. Otherwise he’ll go crazy. The only thing keeping him sane is knowing that we’re out here looking out for you.”
I roll my eyes again, because that’s so Logan. Worrying about me when he’s the one stuck in an insane asylum.
I walk him to the front door. “How about this? I promise to go eat the biggest lunch possible, and you promise to keep working every connection you have to get Logan out. Deal?”
Armand watches me with that all-too-assessing gaze for another half a minute, then he nods. “Deal."
I wave at him from the doorway before deciding to make good on my promise and head for the kitchen.
I’m opening the refrigerator door to see if anything is left inside or if I need to order more groceries, when a movement catches my eye in my periphery.
I yelp and slam the refrigerator shut when I realize that the movement is a person.
A stranger. In my house. In my kitchen. With me. While I am alone.
“Who are you?” I shout even as I reach in my pocket for my phone. Where the hell is my phone? Were they here the whole time Armand was? Why didn’t the security alarm go off if they broke in?
The person is short and their back is to me. They’re wearing a hoodie and I can’t even tell if it’s a man or woman, or maybe a teenager, they’re so slight. Maybe 110 pounds soaking wet.
Not that I’m taking any chances. I start backing away, my hand scrambling on the counter for anything to protect myself. Naturally, the block of knives is on the opposite counter, closer to my intruder.
My hands close around a rolling pin just as the stranger turns my way.
My fingers lose their grasp and the rolling pin topples to the ground with a loud clatter as I whisper, “Rachel?”
Eighteen
Logan
I’m early to the lab today and haven’t had enough caffeine yet. Without thinking, I scrub a hand down my face, then jerk back when I accidentally touch my cheek where Adam decked me last night.
I still can’t believe that Dr. Laurel didn’t listen to me when I went to his office afterwards to tell him about Adam’s schemes. Then again, he’s grief stricken. Maybe if I try again today, when he’s in a better frame of mind…
I go to the wall and unlatch the sterile equipment cabinet, pulling out the goggles with my name on them. We all started labeling our equipment after some pieces started going missing last year. Now we sign everything in and out.
I ran a group of experiments overnight and I’m eager to look at the slides. So I tug the goggles into position and start on my work, bent over my microscope.
Everything’s normal at first. Business as usual.
Until it’s not.
It starts as an itch.
And then becomes an uncomfortable tingling.
I ignore it. I have work to do. And I’m hoping Daphne will come in at lunch. If I finish up all the slides, then maybe I can sneak her out of here and we can go to Giuseppe’s for pizza and—