Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I show her how to lock everything up. “Back at the house, you’ll find clothes in your room. Wear something professional, so we get some answers.”
I turn away before she can reply. I don’t want to listen to any of her bullshit about not wanting the clothes I gave her. She’ll wear the clothes.
My phone rings. Joe.
“Yeah?”
“Lottie called. No change. No word from Skylar, nothing at all.”
I’ve never been a patient guy, and I sure as fuck am not one now. I hate that we’re in a holding pattern until we can get more information.
“Thanks. You have that list of victims for us?”
“Yes, sir. Waiting for you in your office.”
I head to my office to get the papers, then do a quick change myself so I look professional. Khakis, dress shoes, polo shirt. Someone knocks on the door.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and I don’t look up at first, fully consumed by the details I’m reading about the people we’ll see today. When I get my hands on this motherfucker…
“Ahem.”
I look up. I blink. I sit back in my chair and admire the stunning woman before me.
Violet’s dressed in a white top and dress pants that show off her trim figure and gorgeous thighs. Her top fits her snugly, but drapes about her, somehow pulling off both professional and stunning all at once. Her hair is pulled back in a stylish braid, and she’s wearing makeup that makes her cheeks brighter, her lips fuller, and her eyes… God, her eyes.
“Lock that door behind you and get over here.”
A pleased smile tugs at her lips. “Is that an order, Mr. Master?”
Christ, I love it when she calls me that.
“It is.”
She captures her lower lip between her teeth and casts her eyes down, but dutifully turns and locks the door behind her. When she turns back to me, her vivid eyes are even brighter.
“I literally have no idea how to fix this hair and makeup, so you can’t muss it up.” She thinks those hands on her hips somehow give her authority.
So cute.
I crook a finger at her. Her cheeks flush brighter.
“We have work to do.”
“We do.”
I tap the papers together on my desktop and push them to the side, shove away from my desk and walk around to the front. I meet her at the same time she reaches my desk, lift her, and place her on the edge.
I love the way she gasps and her hands fly to my shoulders to steady herself. I reach for her, embrace her, and tuck her against my chest.
“This is risky. You know that.”
“I do.”
I bend and kiss her, and for one brief moment in time, the world stops spinning.
“I could’ve worn the skirt,” she says, as if to distract me from her stunning beauty. “But you can’t run in a skirt, and you just never know…”
“You don’t. Smart girl, we should be prepared.”
“And I’ve been thinking.”
“Yeah, baby?”
I love the way her eyes go soft when I call her baby.
“I don’t think we should start with the victims. The only survivors don’t remember what happened to them. We know that he went to Bubbles and Broomsticks, and we know that he has witnesses for every place he’s gone.”
“Exactly.”
“But something occurred to me when I was getting changed just now.”
I step back to look at her, so I can take her seriously.
“What’s that?”
“The alibis for the times Derrick Dossier supposedly abducted his victims? They’re detailed, but almost… too detailed. Here, look.”
She takes out her phone and pulls up the notes app.
“August first. Flowers show up at Anita Charles’ door. She goes on a date with a mysterious stranger and doesn’t return. Her body’s found two days later, but he has video evidence that he was shooting pool at the bar when she was supposedly abducted, then he was working the other hours. Like, he didn’t even go home to get changed?”
“Odd.”
“There’s more.”
I nod.
“Next up, Margaret Sellier. Flowers show up at her door. Like the others, same thing, goes on a date with a stranger and doesn’t return. That time, he was with three buddies fishing in Panama, and couldn’t possibly have kidnapped anyone, yet…”
Her voice trails off. I wait for her to finish.
“Yet there’s actual DNA evidence to prove it was him.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“We don’t know who struck us yesterday in the car, but we do know that whoever this person or persons are, they’re specifically targeting people who…” She flushes pink. “Who mean something to you. But… you didn’t know me until yesterday.”
I can’t tell her that isn’t true. She’d run.
No one knew she mattered to me.
“I say we go back to the bar. I say we bait him. He has bartenders there that slip roofies in drinks for him so he can do his thing, right? At least the one we already took care of.”