Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
She squeals. "Oh! Was that the one I put there in case of emergency? I’m so glad you found it." She gives me a wink, and thankfully doesn't ask which part of the emergency kit I had to use. I love that Quinn did that. It's like a testament to the sisterhood. I've got your back, even when you don't know what you need.
“What’s your drink?” Fern asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good, thank you. Do you guys know where Timeo is?"
“Honey,” Quinn says, leaning in close to me. She holds my eyes with hers as she takes a sip from her drink. “Pro tip,” she confides in a husky whisper. "You don't ask out loud where they are. If they don't tell you, they don't want you to know.”
I frown, because how is that fair?
"But listen," she says in a stage whisper.
I lean in closer. "That doesn't mean you can't find out. It's a lot easier than you think. Chances are, one of them has told their significant other. So you just have to check in with the other girls.”
Am I "one of girls?" Oh my God, I love that.
I feel unsettled and anxious. I fidget nervously. What if Timeo has betrayed his family?
I just want to see him. I just want to see once and for all that he isn’t betraying anyone. That he’s loyal to the core.
I won’t make a big deal of going…he doesn’t need to find out.
I continue whispering right back at her. “So do you know?"
She grins. "Of course I know," she says softly. “They went down to the wharf. Adriano knows that I can't stand the smell of fish, so when he comes home from the wharf, he always takes a shower and gets changed. I saw him pack a bag with a change of clothes and that scented body wash he always uses after he goes to the wharf." She shrugs. "It turns me on, it's some kind of mountain sandalwood pine thing. All masculine and shit. So anyway, since we're staying here tonight, he had to pack his bag, and I would bet a gazillion dollars that that's where they are.”
“Sergio said something about that,” I say, frowning. “I don’t feel right about this.”
Fern slides a frosty cup of sparkling water with a wedge of lemon in it to me. "Here. No alcohol, just water.”
“Thank you.” I take a little sip, not realizing how thirsty I was. “It’s freezing out…”
“You need a coat?” Quinn says with a smile. "Honey, call me your fairy godmother. In the locker room, pink locker, take your pick.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear.
“You're very welcome, and you can thank me by maybe not mentioning to anybody that I had anything to do with you leaving. But if you want to leave? You wanna go out through the dance studio. All other exits are going to be monitored, but you know there’s a way to sneak out…”
Fern comes over and takes a sip from her own drink. “Okay, girls, are you talking about trying to find out where they are on your own? Because there's no way on God's green earth I would do that. Are you kidding me?" She shakes her head and gives me a concerned look. "Starla, you know Timeo. You know he does not want you to leave the club tonight. Just stay here, where it’s safe.”
She might be trying to convince me to stay, but her little speech has the opposite effect.
I have to go.
Ten minutes later, I'm wearing a sleek, charcoal-gray peacoat, a black hat, black gloves, and a black scarf. Yeah, there’s a certain theme.
I flag down a car with an Uber sticker in the window. “Can you take me, please?” I hand him a wad of cash so he forgives the bypass of hailing one on the app.
“Get in.”
I want to see Timeo. I want to prove to myself once and for all that he isn't a traitor. That he would never betray his family, and therefore… me. It's not his fault that I have trust issues.
But as I draw closer to the pier and feel the reassuring heft of the gun that I packed… I’m not sure this is the best decision. I’m a decent shot but not great, and I’m much smaller than most strong men. My past would tell me this is not the best combination.
But I have to know.
Large banks of snow are pushed to the outermost edges of the waterfront, the pier and docks clear. The ocean effect means Boston proper gets less snow than neighboring cities, but the boats and docks are still frosted with slick ice.
I use the brightness from my phone to get to sure footing and a spot where I can hopefully be unnoticed, then tuck it into my pocket. I don’t need to be seen. I wait patiently, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.