Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
We drove in a thick, icy silence that didn’t sit right between us, and I slowed as we came onto Castle Street, adhering to the twenty miles per hour speed limit. A quick glance at Sloane told me she was determinedly staring out the passenger window. Her fingers knotted together on her lap, though. Tension radiated from her. I hated it.
A sigh escaped me as I looked to my right as we passed her cottage. I indicated to pull over to park, but something drew my eye to her door.
What the hell?
“Stay in the car,” I ordered as I cut the engine.
“Why? What’s going on?” Sloane glanced around in fright.
“Just stay there.” I got out and shut the door behind me, gently, trying not to freak her out even more. Blood rushed in my ears as I strode toward her front door.
“Fuck.” Worry and dread filled me as I observed the surrounding street, searching for a threat.
Then I heard the car door slam, and I turned as Sloane rounded the bonnet. I bit out a curse as she marched toward me. Her eyes flew to the door and she stumbled to a stop.
Those pretty cheeks paled.
And I wanted to kill whoever had nailed a dead rat to her door.
“Is that a …?” Her hand covered her mouth in shock.
“A rat.” Gut churning, I stepped toward her. “So … who did you rat on?”
Understanding widened her eyes, and her hand dropped. Her lips parted in realization and then pursed with fury. Without answering me, she pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and, with trembling fingers, swiped at the screen.
A few seconds later, holding it to her ear, she said, “Did you hear from your dad yet?”
Annoyed and impatient that I didn’t know whom she was talking to, I waited with my back toward the door, hiding the dead rat from sight.
If it was possible, Sloane’s cheeks grew even paler. “He’s out?” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Where is he? Does he know? … I need to, Aria … because there’s a dead rat hanging on my front door!”
Aria Howard.
“Okay … yeah … please … thank you. Bye.” She hung up. Then shrugged in exhaustion. “If you help me get rid of the rat before Callie comes home from tae kwon do, I’ll tell you everything.”
I’d help her get rid of the rat without the information, but I needed to know who was trying to scare her. And once I found the perpetrator, I was going to make sure the very thought of terrorizing another woman made them piss themselves with fear of my reprisal.
Fourteen
SLOANE
I don’t think I’d ever been more grateful to Walker than when he told me to wait inside the cottage while he disposed of the rat. First, he’d taken photographs, then he did his thing. As soon as it was gone, I scrubbed the entrance until the door shone.
One of my neighbors walked by, giving me a weird look as I cleaned. I smiled shakily, not wanting anyone to know the truth and hoping we were the first to see the rat. “Tripped and spilled my Diet Coke all over the door,” I lied.
My neighbor gave me an understanding smile and walked on by.
By the time I’d finished washing and disinfecting and getting rid of the dirty sponge and water, Walker returned.
I heard the cottage door open and close as I removed the rubber gloves.
“Just me,” Walker called in reassurance.
I hurried out of the kitchen. He stood staring, his vivid eyes searching my face. A powerful rush of longing swept over me. I wanted to run to him, to feel his strong arms around me. To feel safe.
Swallowing back the emotion, I asked, “What did you do with it?”
“Threw it into the woods for another animal to take care of.” Walker gestured to the kitchen. “Need to wash my hands.”
Our only bathroom was upstairs, so I stepped aside to let him use the kitchen sink. “Go for it.”
When he strode past, I briefly closed my eyes against the urge to touch him, to whisper his name and plead with him to hold me. Instead, I watched as he stood at my kitchen sink, looking mammoth in the small room as he scrubbed his hands clean.
An ache spread through my chest, imagining him here because he wanted to be here with me. Not because Brodan had solicited him to protect me.
“Do you want a coffee?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t drink coffee after noon,” he shared, turning to look at me. “I drink tea.”
That little slice of information made me smile, despite the circumstances. “Would you like tea?”
“I’ll make it. You sit.”
“No. I need something to do.” I strode into the kitchen, sharing the space with him, scenting his expensive cologne, feeling the heat of him so close.