Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“She didn’t marry Charles Warren?”
Anna looks from her building back to me.
These are the first words I’ve spoken since we left the parking garage, and I feel like an idiot for even asking. I just want to shove this woman out of my truck and drive off. I have every intention of forgetting I even saw her today, and the sooner she leaves my vehicle, the quicker that can happen.
I don’t know why I even asked, morbid curiosity maybe?
“The man wasn’t very happy when he found out Dani was keeping a guy on the side.”
I’m surprised she even answered my question without questioning my level of concern, but more surprising is the look she gives me when I nod my head in understanding.
“She didn’t—did she cheat on you, too?”
“I’ll walk you up,” I say instead of answering.
Anna is Dani’s best friend. I find it impossible that she doesn’t know the details of our breakup.
“I’ll be fine,” she mutters in irritation, but before she can climb out of my truck, I’m already out and around to her side.
“My mother would kick my ass if I didn’t see you to your door.”
She grumbles, completely unimpressed with the minimal level of courtesy I’m trying to provide. I won’t tell her that I hope the cops are gone so I can take a look around Dani’s apartment in an attempt to figure out more about what’s going on. Letting her know that would only lead to another barrage of questions, and explaining my job and what I do every day isn’t any of her concern. I don’t want details about her life, and she sure as hell isn’t getting any about mine. Finding her watching my face on the drive over with a weird look of curious infatuation was enough.
After a quick hello to the doorman, Anna scurries across the expansive lobby like she’s trying to hide from everyone. No doubt she’s embarrassed about her uncoordinated shoes. The woman never would leave home without being completely dolled up, and she must be dying a little on the inside knowing that people are seeing her in a designer dress and plain black Nikes.
A smile tugs up both corners of my mouth as the elevator opens. I don’t say a word even though I want to taunt her and make her feel even more out of place. That would be petty, and I’m a grown ass man.
“Think he’s going to share a picture of you in those shoes to TMZ?”
Ha! Obviously not grown enough.
“Genaro is a professional. He’d never do that to me.”
“Anyone will do anything for the right price,” I mumble. “Trust me.”
The elevator opens up on the twenty-sixth floor to silence. The police that Anna mentioned were bustling around earlier are no longer loitering in the halls.
“It’s eerily quiet up here,” Anna observes as we step out.
“The police are gone,” I tell her. “There were no cop cars out front.”
“I’m sure the staff made them park out back. Genaro wouldn’t allow even the cops to cause a spectacle out front. He’s—” Her words catch in her throat, and it doesn’t take but a split second for me to realize why.
I pull my gun from my hip, unsure of what I’m going to find on the other side of Anna’s ajar door.
“You have a gun!” she screeches. “Why do you have a gun?”
“Shut up,” I snap, instinctually moving my body so she’s behind me. “Did you leave your door open?”
“Of course not, idiot,” she snaps, and even though I know she’s scared, she still manages to insult me. Same old Annalise.
Maybe I should let her go in first.
The thought makes me smile, but the sight of the police tape on the door down the hall reminds me just how dangerous the situation is.
“It’s been kicked in,” I tell her as I inch closer, noticing the fractured wood at the door frame.
“The police kicked in my door?”
I stop her from moving around me to see the damage.
“Probably not the police. Stay out here.”
For once in her damn life, the woman listens to me, and by the time I push her front door open fully, I can hear small sobs coming from the hallway.
Bringing her back here was a mistake, and that’s made obviously clear when I look around the trashed room. It definitely wasn’t the police, unless they were looking for a needle because her belongings are the haystack. The entire room is trashed. The television has been kicked in and ripped from the wall. The expensive sofas have been slashed. There isn’t a single piece of furniture that hasn’t been toppled. Every drawer in the kitchen has been pulled out, several on the floor upside down. There are utensils strewn everywhere. This place is a damn mess.
Even the fridge has been opened and divested of its contents all over the marble floor. Her bedroom has met the same fate, the mattress slashed and her clothes scattered all over the damn floor.