Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I relaxed and stopped in my closet on the way back. There was something I needed to get.
Racks were doubled on both sides. I stopped midway and reached to a shelf above my clothes. I pulled out an Aerosoles shoebox. It wasn’t a flashy name brand and one I assumed would be passed over by any intruder. Inside, under a woman’s platform heel sandal my mother claimed was perfect for evening and everyday dress, was my work phone. As expected, it was dead. I put the shoebox back and headed to my bedside table to plug the phone in.
As far as I could tell, no one had come into the apartment. I headed to the kitchen, where my landline phone was. One required by the building so the bell system downstairs could ring me for any visitors. I picked it up and dialed my mom.
Because she was on vacation with my dad and sister, I didn’t worry yet. Though Shawn hadn’t wanted me to call my family because Ruin could have cloned my personal cell phone, I was calling from a landline. I didn’t think Ruin had the capability or inclination to trace my calls from this line. Plus, my family wasn’t in town. I felt safe to leave Mom a voice message letting her know I was back and to call me on this or my work phone when she had a chance. If I didn’t hear back from her by tomorrow morning, then I’d worry.
Next, I checked my refrigerator. Just as I expected, it only held a few old condiments and a half-empty carton of milk. I sighed, knowing I needed to go grocery shopping.
I went back into my room and got my laptop to place a food delivery order. Knowing that I was going to work later and it would be a long day of answering questions, I placed a short grocery delivery order of the essentials to get me through the weekend and was able to snag the last delivery time today. If I wasn’t pregnant, I might have waited. But I was hungry all the time and going to the store seemed riskier than having something delivered.
When my food delivery arrived, I planted myself on the sofa with a bottle of water and my take-out boxes and settled in to stream a movie.
It felt lonely without Shawn next to me. I immediately nixed the romantic comedy trailer that was playing and went for a bloodbath thriller that boasted no romance.
When my landline rang, I hustled over to answer.
“Delivery,” the man said.
It was a little early, but I hit the button to buzz him in before little alarm bells went off in my head.
Most times, the delivery person would announce the company they were with. I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or something else, but I couldn’t shake the fact the man had sounded off.
I went into my bedroom and opened the bedside table. Inside was a box. I pressed my middle fingertip on the scanner, and it opened. Too many people use the thumb as their security fingerprint.
The box opened, revealing my SIG Sauer P226. I’d just checked the magazine, which was loaded with fifteen rounds when I heard the knock at my door.
“Just a second,” I called so I could be heard before I walked in that direction with the SIG aimed at the floor.
I felt my heart rate increase as I approached the door, knowing that I had to be careful. I took deep breaths, trying to steady my nerves. My heart was pounding against my chest, and my palms were getting sweaty. I had to take a moment to compose myself before I opened the door.
Through the peephole, I saw a man dressed in a delivery uniform holding a paper bag. He looked like an ordinary delivery guy, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off about him. His posture was too rigid, and his eyes seemed to be avoiding the peephole.
I hesitated for a moment before he lifted the bag and aimed it at the door. I flattened myself to the wall in time before he shot dead center through the door.
Training kicked in, and I should have shot back, aiming for center mass, but I didn’t. I reached for the handle and wrenched open the door, flattening myself against the wall again.
Another shot rang out and I hurried to see through the opening to make sure none of my neighbors had come out in the hall. In the split second I had, I fired. Though the target area would be smaller, I aimed lower and hoped I’d hit pay dirt.
He went down. Flat on his back. His leg hemorrhaging. I went for one of the cushions on my couch before going to the man.
I pushed the gun out of his reach and applied pressure to the wound.