Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
"Not yet." I smirk at her. "But you will soon enough."
"I'm so glad I already added killing you to my to-do list. I won't have to do it when I get home." She bats her lashes at me before turning to glance out of the window. "You know the light is green, right?"
I follow her gaze and clock the green light. "Shit," I growl, stomping the gas a little too hard. The engine roars, and we shoot forward into the intersection.
Her evil little laugh does things to me that should be illegal.
"New rule. No talking about my cock while I'm driving, Sparrow."
"You started it," she singsongs.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
Ten minutes later, we pull up outside of Kane's to get her car. He drove her to the studio this morning. I think he intended to stay, but opted to head out once he knew I was going to be sticking around.
He's an interesting man. I don't get the impression that he trusts many people with his sister. Actually, I don't think he trusts anyone with his sister. But he's choosing to trust me. Whether that's because he did his homework on me and Carmichael Security or because he trusts Bryant Denver's judgment, I don't know, but he clearly knew who the fuck I was. As soon as Kenna ducked into the studio, he started grilling me. He didn't let up until he was satisfied that I'd be a good fit.
Then and only then did he answer my questions. The dead flowers started showing up two months ago. The poem came three weeks ago. Apparently, she didn't take the threat seriously enough because the bird came two days ago.
The poem itself is fucked up.
You dare not turn, you cannot flee,
For fear of what you cannot see.
A phantom watcher, ever near,
A constant source of lurking fear.
Cowering in the shadows, you remain,
A captive of my deadly reign.
For in the realm of endless night,
The watcher haunts, waiting, just out of sight.
Kane texted a photo of it to me while Kenna was recording. Unless there were fingerprints on the paper it was typed on or the envelope it was tucked into, it didn't provide many other clues. Simple printer paper and a white envelope. Kenna, John, and her band all touched it before anyone thought to try to preserve it, so if there were fingerprints, they were a lost cause three weeks ago.
The fact that the son of a bitch knows where she lives is concerning. But whether that's because he's been watching her as the poem says he has or whether it's because he's closer to her than she wants to believe, I don't know yet. With musicians, it's usually a fan. I can't remember a time when it wasn't a fan, actually. But my gut says it's someone close to her.
Honestly, my gut says it's her fucking manager. I'm just not sure if that's because I don't like the prick or if there's something more to the feeling. It could very well be that I suspect him simply because I don't like him. I don't know enough yet to make that call.
I need to see her place, see her shows, and feel out her audience. Maybe then I'll have a better idea of what the fuck we're dealing with here. But as of right now, I don't trust her manager, her band, or anyone else in her life.
"Do you need to grab anything while we're here, Sparrow?"
"Just a few things," she says, unlatching her belt. "It won't take me long."
"Is your sister-in-law here?"
"Yeah."
I kill the engine and hop out, circling around to her to help her down. She narrows her eyes when I slide her down my body, keeping her close until her feet are on the ground. It's not my fault she's short. Even in her heels, she barely reaches my chin.
"I know what you're doing, Gideon," she says. "It's not working."
"Just helping you down," I lie, feigning innocence. We both know I'm full of shit. I wanted those soft curves pressed up against me. I wanted to be all up in her personal space. And I wanted her thinking about me the whole time she's inside getting her shit together.
I'm not playing fair with her. I'm not playing at all. This is war. And if there's one thing a former Marine knows, it's war. Retreat? Hell.
"Go get your shit. I need to make a few calls, Sparrow."
"I hope one of them is a therapist, Gideon."
"Baby, I was a Marine for years. I've been there, done that." I smirk down at her.
"You were a Marine?" Her expression softens. She squints against the sun. It catches in strands of her hair, turning them from blonde to gold. "I didn't know that."
"I was, but that was a long time ago."
"No wonder you're so stubborn. And so bossy." That blinding smile creeps over her face. "And such a pain in my a—"