Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“Don’t look so sad, Rory. We’ll go car shopping,” Lydia promised. “Although”—she made a little face, burst out laughing and looked up at the detective sheepishly—“I’ve never bought a car before. I’ve always taken public transportation.”
“That makes sense,” Detective Larrsen defended her as he led the way to the elevator. “There’s very little parking in San Francisco, and if you’re a native, you know how to get around with buses. There’s little need to have the additional expense of a car.”
Lydia leaned against the brass handrail in the elevator, her face glowing as she looked up at Larrsen. That look made Rory smile. She wanted Lydia happy. She’d struggled for a very long time, and the detective seemed to be a good man. Just because Gideon hadn’t been sincere in the things he’d said to her didn’t mean the cop wasn’t truly interested in Lydia. How could he not be? Lydia was sweet. She was a good mother. She wasn’t the clingy type. She had made it on her own without help for years.
The elevator door opened on the third floor of the parking garage, and they stepped off. Lydia seemed reluctant to view the car again and hung back a little, so Rory walked toward her parking space. Larrsen kept pace with her. She stopped when she came up on what had been her car. She just froze, unable to move.
Her hand went to her throat defensively, her breath catching there. Whoever had done such damage despised her. This was personal. Very, very personal. She just stood there staring, unable to believe the wreck had once been her car. It was barely recognizable.
Her lungs burned and it was difficult to draw in air. The parking garage spun in a curiously lazy circle. Little black dots appeared behind her eyes, and voices faded in and out. She found herself sitting abruptly on the concrete floor right in the middle of shattered glass, twisted metal and chunks of rubber. One door and part of a seat with the cushions ripped to shreds floated in and out of her line of vision.
Rory. Talk to me. Use your inhaler, baby. You need your inhaler. Where is it? Take it out and use your inhaler. You aren’t breathing right.
She was hearing things. Gideon’s voice. Her mind playing tricks on her. She really couldn’t breathe though. She did need her inhaler; she just couldn’t move her arms. They felt like lead. She couldn’t lift them. She could barely look around her at all the glass from the shattered windows. The doors torn off, the trunk popped open and jagged tears in the metal as if someone had tried to tear off the trunk the way they’d ripped off the doors. All the seats had been taken out and trashed. The sides of the car had been beaten in, creating craters. The hood was ripped off and something poured all over the engine. The outside of the car was spray-painted, telling her what they were going to do to her, none of it good.
The giant letters blurred unless she really focused, but why bother? She wasn’t certain why she was a bitch or a whore. Why someone was going to fuck her raw. This was pure hatred. She couldn’t possibly have given anyone reason to hate her this much.
Red, I know you’re upset with me, and you have every reason to be, but you have to use your inhaler. I’m coming to you. I’m on my way. If you need to call the cops, do it. I can’t leave you alone when you’re in trouble.
That was definitely Gideon talking in her head, not a figment of her imagination. She had to pull it together. The roaring in her ears wouldn’t go away, sounding so loud it nearly drowned out his voice.
She felt a hand on the nape of her neck, pushing her head down. It should have helped, but her lungs and airway refused to open, shutting down even more. She was too close to the concrete and the dust and dirt. Her panic increased. Her heart accelerated, pounded out of control, going crazy, the pressure in her chest so severe it was painful.
Far off, she could hear voices talking, but she couldn’t distinguish one from the other, and she had no clue what anyone was saying.
She became aware of being lifted. Of her palm on a chest and her inhaler pressed into her mouth.
“Breathe in, Red.”
It was a command, nothing less. She heard that very distinctly. She felt the chest lift beneath her palm, and she automatically took a breath, instinctively following that same pattern. In. Out. At first, she was unaware who had her, but then his scent hit. Gideon. She was shaking so much she wouldn’t have been able to hold herself upright if he hadn’t been pressing her so tightly in his arms. Surrounding her with safety.