Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Binxy!” she said, sighing.
But it was then that Binx saw me in the doorway, greeting me with a hiss that revealed his pointy teeth.
Josie’s brows pinched, but she followed his line of sight, jolting a bit when she saw me looming there inside the door.
“Sorry,” I said, holding up a hand to her. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Hey, Cato,” she said, giving me a small smile as I moved inside.
“I got it,” I told her, going toward the end of the desk, and gathering her scattered pens and cup, then putting them on the other side of the desk, away from the grumpy-ass cat.
“Thank you,” she said, giving me a shy smile.
“Is Rynn around?” I asked, glancing around like there was anywhere she could be hiding in the small office.
“Ah, no, she… she said she was taking today off,” Josie said. “You… haven’t heard from her?” she asked.
Why did that question seem so loaded?
Did she know something about the situation with me and Rynn that I didn’t? She was Rynn’s only friend.
“No, she hasn’t answered my texts. Or calls,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Honestly, I thought she was giving me the brush off. But I wanted her to do it to my face if that was the case.”
“I… I don’t think that’s it,” Josie said, hedging. Something was going on here, but she didn’t want to tell me.
“What’s going on, Josie?” I asked, not liking how tense she was, how her fingers were fidgeting, fanning the pages of her book over and over.
“She had a job last night. And I’m worried about her,” she admitted.
“Have you checked on her?”
“I asked if she wanted me to drop off some lunch for her a while ago, but she just sent me back a kind of curt No. It’s just… it’s not like her. I mean… Rynn doesn’t turn down food.”
“Give me her address,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice soft even if anxiety was working its way up my spine, making me tense. “Give it to me, or I will look it up myself. But I’m going over there to check on her.”
That seemed to change something in her. Maybe the desperate, but hard edge to my words. My determination to make sure she was okay.
“Okay,” she said, rattling off an address. “She… she likes Big Gulps of soda,” she said, giving me a nod.
“Got it,” I agreed, nodding. “If you give me your number, I will text you what I find out,” I told her.
She jumped on that, rattling it off.
“Hey, Cato,” she called as I got to the door.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning back.
“You’re really good for her,” she said, giving me a small smile.
“I really like her,” I admitted.
Then I was off, getting on my bike, and taking the short ride toward her building, a tall apartment complex, all white walls and big panes of glass reflecting the lights of the city back at me.
I did stop at the convenience store at the corner, grabbing her drink and some of that damn cheddar popcorn, then making my way into her building.
It struck me again how little I knew about her work, about how she made her money. But, clearly, she made a lot of it. Because this place was fucking lush. Even the smallest apartments had to be going for a couple grand a month. And Rynn was up in one of the two penthouses.
I rode the elevator up, listening to the classical music on the speaker as I went, surprised by how nervous I was to show up at her door.
What if she didn’t answer?
Did I force my way in?
To check on her? To make sure she was alright?
Especially if Josie was worried about her. Josie who did know what the nature of her job was, what dangers were involved, what kind of trouble Rynn could have gotten into.
It could be bad.
And if she needed some sort of help, we had to get that for her.
I walked down the hallway between the two penthouse apartments, both of them managing to have ocean views thanks to the way they were laid out, and found my way to Rynn’s, smirking down at her welcome mat. Black with white writing that said There’s no reason for you to be here.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the white door. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then a fourth.
Why the fuck wasn’t she answering?
Casting a glance toward the neighbor’s door, I started to reach in my wallet.
I’d been carrying a small lock pick set since I was a kid. I was decent enough at it. Though who knew what other kinds of locks she might have on a door in this fancy-ass apartment building.
I listened, figuring I would give her another minute to come. She could be sleeping or in the bathroom or something. But when she didn’t come, I found the picks, put the drink and popcorn down, and got to work.