Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I pulled myself together and grabbed an empty cup from the cupboard, going to the fridge and pressing it up against the ice dispenser. The clink of ice against glass filled the kitchen, replaced by the sound of running water. I took a sip, letting the cold drink ground me. It helped me focus on something other than the tidal wave of crap currently washing over my brain.
A deep sigh left me as I put the glass down. I should probably use this energy and channel it into something good. I could go to my office and lock myself in until I managed to get some words down on a page. No matter how shitty they might be, I just had to sit down and write. But one quick glance at the clock shot down any hope of that happening.
Somehow, the day completely slipped by me. And although Gabriel did a wonderful job of cleaning my bathroom, there was still the rest of the house that I had to deal with, and there were only a couple of hours left until book club started.
I began to regret my choice of pushing hard to host tonight’s meeting. I wanted to do it because I needed to hold on to a sense of normalcy now that everything else around me was spinning out of control. I needed to be surrounded by friends, in a space that felt safe for me. I knew that I was the sole target of the Midnight Chemist—they’d made that clear with their last message to me, those words seared into my being like a brand on a bull: You’re mine. I’ve never craved someone as badly as I do you, Tristan. You’re mine. You’re next.
It was the message that triggered me into reaching out for help, and the one that helped Stonewall Investigations link the Grindr user to the serial killer.
AnemoneUnderSea was actually the Midnight Chemist, and I had sent that motherfucker a damn face pic. Thankfully, I didn’t send him more than that, but still, he knew who I was and knew the distance I’d been from him when we started chatting. It was enough to put the pieces together.
So being surrounded by people helped. Especially when one of those people was Gabriel Fernandez, bodyguard extraordinaire and the detective of my dreams.
He’d actually suggested keeping the book club at my place when I asked. He said it would be easier to secure since he already knew my house like the back of his hand. He’d do a couple of laps around the property during the night just to make sure there wasn’t anyone lurking in the bushes. He assured me that we’d all be safe, and when Gabriel drops his voice and his words turn to pebbles in a streaming riverbed, smooth and pleasant with a vibration that settled down into your chest, then you believe every damn word that comes out of his mouth.
I gulped down the rest of the water and collected myself before going back out into the living room, where Gabriel was already wiping down the coffee table.
Jesus, did I get a bodyguard or a professional cleaner? I honestly didn’t mind the combo at all, but I certainly wasn’t going to let Gabriel keep working. I rushed over and snatched the rag from his hand. “Uh-uh,” I said, shooing him away. “Go do detective stuff or something. I’ve got the rest of the cleaning.”
Gabriel cocked his head, looking at me like he was trying to study me. I licked my lips and dropped my eyes down to the table. It was difficult being in the same room as this Adonis and not picturing a kiss. He had the kind of magnetic pull that—well, that I usually reserved for the heroes in my novels. But this man was standing right in front of me, inches away from me. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to… and trust me, I did. From the moment we met, I knew Gabriel would be trouble, even though he’d been sent here to be the exact opposite.
“I do have a few phone calls to make. I’ll go to the guest room so I don’t bother you.”
“That’s totally fine. I wouldn’t mind some background noise. And your voice is actually really soothing.”
“Is it?”
I looked up from the coffee table, realizing Gabriel had moved closer to me. “It is.” I swallowed, nearly making an audible gulp. The air in my house suddenly got about twenty-five degrees hotter. Did the fireplace turn on by itself? The heater?
“Guess that’s why I did such a great job that time I worked as a telemarketer.”
I arched a skeptical brow. “Seriously? I can’t imagine you sitting behind one of those ancient computers with a headset on.”
“Well, try harder. It was my first job out of high school. Only lasted a couple months before I went into the military, but I made a nice amount of commission from it. And a few propositions for a more X-rated call.” Gabriel’s cocky smirk nearly knocked me over.