Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Oh …” Her lips formed an O as he used his room key card to access her floor.
He lifted a single brow, smirking at her as the elevator doors closed. “You still don’t have a key card, do you?”
Jersey’s head inched side to side.
“Did you tell Chris where you were going?”
She continued to shake her head, gazing straight at the mirrored elevator doors and the reflection of the tall and distractingly sexy man beside her.
“Max?”
“Nope.” She pursed her lips to hide her grin.
“So you wanted to be homeless in New York instead of New Jersey. I see … because the plane was and is leaving with or without you in less than an hour.”
“Lesson learned,” she mumbled, sporting a tight grin and wide eyes.
The doors opened to her floor.
“Do I need to help you find your room?”
“Six-one-nine.” She stepped off the elevator with her chin held high again as if remembering three digits made up for her other missteps that almost lead to abandonment.
Ian followed her, grabbing her hand as she took a left instead of a right.
Her hand. Not her arm—like the gentle nudge with his hand on her back in the lobby. Ian Cooper took Jersey’s hand and her breath in one quick move.
It was warm against her cold. She couldn’t find a full inhale of oxygen as he pulled her down the hallway. “We’re on the ninth floor, Ferdinand. So your room number has to start with a nine. So maybe 916? Or 961?”
Nope. He didn’t kill the Russells. Murderers had cold hands. Jersey knew this because she had cold hands, except when she was boxing.
At room 916, Ian released her hand like it was no big deal. But it was a big deal—a big, warm, tummy-doing-weird-things kind of deal. He knocked twice on the door.
“For the love of god, where have you been?” Chris leaned against the door to keep it open while pressing his palms to his temples, his signature reaction to too much stress.
The butterflies in Jersey’s tummy died. She worried Chris. Had she just told him, the unnecessary worry could have been prevented. “I’m sorry.” She eased her hands around his wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his head, waiting for him to look at her and see the sincerity in her eyes, the true apology on her face.
“Why were you with him?”
Glancing over at Ian, she attempted to brush off Chris’s harsh question with a nervous smile. “I wasn’t. We just ran into each other while jogging. I didn’t have a key to get up the elevator.”
Chris clenched his jaw, refusing to look at Ian.
Jersey pressed her hand to Chris’s chest. “Get dressed or grab another shower. Yes, a shower. Go take a shower to relax your mind. I’m fine. We’re leaving in less than an hour.”
Chris’s nostrils flared as he blew out a long breath. “M-maybe.” He nodded.
“Go.” Jersey pushed him toward the bathroom. After Chris slid the door shut, she wrinkled her nose and faced Ian. “He has some PTSD.”
Ian lifted his chin as his brows slid up his forehead. “I … see,” he replied with apprehension to his voice. “What happened to him?”
“We don’t know. He has no memory of anything. No family … nothing.”
“I’m sorry.”
She returned a half smile.
“I need to go shower. I’ll meet you guys out front in…” he glanced at his watch again “…thirty-five minutes. But I’m guessing Max will be knocking on your door in less than fifteen.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He shared his mischievous grin one last time before heading back down the hallway.
“Coop?”
He turned.
“Who’s Ferdinand?”
Ian chuckled. “Ferdinand Magellan. First explorer to circumnavigate the globe.”
“Were you making fun of me? Because I seemed lost?”
“Seemed?” He laughed again while continuing to the elevator. “Thirty-five minutes.”
CHAPTER
TEN
“I need you to believe me.” Chris sat at the end of the bed in the hotel room after giving Jersey the silent treatment. They hustled to get ready while Max tapped her foot outside of room 916.
Jersey spit out the toothpaste and shoved the rest of her stuff into her bag. “About what?” She sighed.
“It’s him.” He rubbed circles on his forehead, eyes closed. “I know you think I’m crazy, and maybe some days I don’t think clearly; some nights, things from my past haunt me in my dreams. But I knew it when I saw him and heard his voice last night. I didn’t get to see him up close at the concert, and his singing voice is different—deeper, grittier. But I knew it last night, and I still know it today. One hundred percent. It’s him. I need you to believe me.”
Jersey closed her eyes with her back to Chris. She didn’t want to believe him. Nothing about his claim made any sense.
“He came from a wealthy family. How do you think he got where he is today? I know he’s this big rock star, and you, like every other girl out there, can’t keep from getting ensnared in his charm and his appearance.”