Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
I’m still not completely sure how it played out, but I know enough that Ginger could be in jeopardy.
My calls earlier calmed my nerves but I want to wrap up with Malcolm so I can get them both on the phone again and make sure all is still quiet there. I need reassurances from both my personal and professional life, but touching base and getting info was priority.
“I’m sorry.” His voice echoes in the sedan. He’s not the kind of man that apologizes. Not ever. So that sends chills down my spine. “What can I do?”
“Email me fucking everything you know about him. And I mean everything, right down to his tastes in fucking porn. The more I know, the better this goes. I’ll call you if I need you. And you better fucking be there for me if I do.”
“Done.”
I click off without another word as I barrel off the interstate toward the house. I call over and over to both their phones to no avail until I tear in through the gates of the house.
George is in the driveway as I pull in, getting out of his car like nothing’s wrong.
“What the fuck is going on?” I yell as I run to the front door. “Why aren’t you with her?”
“What’s wrong, Stas? I went to get pizza. Took longer than I expected—there are no places open around here at this time of night. And then I wanted to get her some ice cream. Took me nearly an hour just to get the pizza then ran to get her ice cream then back. I was on my work cell, just saw all your calls, had to sit there and deal with some upcoming issues. But the alarm is set, she has her phone. I texted her it would take me longer. No need to worry. I didn’t hear anything. What’s going on with you?”
“Did she text you back?” I snap.
He shakes his head, eyebrows coming together and starts to say something else.
I’m inside.
“Ginger!” No answer. “Babybear, answer me!” The words bank in my throat, sure the silence I hear is my answer.
I knew the moment we met, I needed to change. I needed to stop helping the trash of this world get a new start. Because having her even close to any danger was unacceptable.
I took too long.
I’m ice in that second as a flash of where she could be—or what he could be doing to her—sends me into a near psychotic state.
I will kill him.
This I know to be true. If it is him.
And I know it is. My gut never lies.
The only thing I don’t know is how painful his death will be.
That all will depend on how stupid he is. What he’s done with her.
Racing through the house, screaming her name, every cell in my body longs to hear her answer me. To have her stepping out of some odd room in the house with a perplexed look on her face, wondering what all the fuss is about.
That doesn’t happen and with my lungs on fire I settle in the kitchen, my brain working overtime on how to fix this mess, as George comes up from the basement shaking his head.
We both see it at the same time.
I charge to the other side of the kitchen island where a white envelope is sticking out of the refrigerator door.
The sound of tearing paper and my heart pounding hurts my ears as I unfold the sheet of ruled notebook paper and see the thick black letters.
“If I see you. Smell you. Even think you are coming for her. I’ll stop her heart. Give me what I asked for, and she gets to keep breathing. Albeit without you, but that’s something you’re going to have to live with. You are never to contact her again. Simple. You have sixteen hours. You create the identity I require and she lives. You will meet my guy at the rest stop on I70, exit 14, with the rest of my documents and information in exactly sixteen hours. He won’t know where I am until after you make the drop, so don’t think you’re going to beat information from him. There will be no contact with him until after you’re gone. You follow him, she dies. You don’t do as I ask, I’ll have her heart cut out of her chest and delivered to you. Now get busy.”
At the bottom of the note, he’s noted the time and that his clock is ticking. We’ve already lost an hour. I do a quick search on my phone to find the highway and exit are right on the border of Pennsylvania and Ohio. I finish looking for the closest airport where the Lear can land.
I push away the thoughts of what I am going to do to him. Right now, they don’t help.