Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“You think?”
He fills out the doorway with his towering body and powerful presence. I can’t imagine being on his bad side and how terrifying that would be. But I’m not scared of him. Moreover, I know his reaction is because I’m on his good side.
“I can’t help it,” I say, holding my hands out in front of me. “He has no one, Troy. Not a soul on this planet to check on him and I’m the reason he’s hurt.”
He snatches my phone out of my hand and slips it into his shorts pocket.
“Keep doing shit like this and you’ll be the reason you’re hurt,” he says, his jaw flexing. “You’ll also be the reason I’m in fucking prison for murdering the person who hurts you.” He groans, running a hand over his head. “How could you be so careless?”
I fight the tears that want to come. “This is hard for me, okay?”
“I understand that. But you work for a security company. You know how phones are tracked. We say it all the time. Small mistakes make big problems. And this …”—he removes my phone from his pocket and waves it in the air—“this is not a small mistake.”
“Be mad at me. I was careless. I know you’re coming from a good place with this, and I screwed up,” I say, fighting so hard not to break down in front of him. But the enormity of the past week just hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking me flat on my proverbial ass. “But I’m doing my best here not to panic, not to think, not to worry … not to focus on the fact that someone wants to fucking kill me. And, in the meantime, my friend just got hurt and I’m his only friend and … I’m having a hard time today, okay?”
Tears spill down my cheeks as I step away from him.
He bristles, his breathing turning ragged.
“When it was just me, it was fine,” I say. “But it’s hard to know that innocent people are paying the price for my life. For my choices. I’m the one that dated the asshole.”
“I know all about how hard it is to live with things that you probably caused.”
I storm across the room, shoving my finger in his chest. He’s a blur through the tears that won’t stop. “You did not cause that.”
He stiffens, reverting to the Troy I know at work—the one that puts up a shield when emotions are involved. The only sliver of the man I’ve known over the past few days is a softness buried in his eyes.
“Don’t do this to me,” I say, dropping my finger.
He ignores me, making sure my phone is off, and throws it on the bed. “Who was on the voicemail?”
I wipe my face with the backs of my hands. “My dad.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know. That this will be over soon, and that something’s going to happen and I need to keep my head down.”
His anger at me slips. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say? Say it again as close as you can remember it.”
I sit on the bed, my shoulders sagging. How did this day turn so quickly?
Just an hour ago, we were in the gym laughing and lifting weights. I was trying to barter blow jobs for fewer reps. He was promising orgasms for extra repetitions. And now, we’re here.
Oh, how quickly things can change.
“Dahlia.”
I typically like to screw with him when he says my name like that—demandingly. But I’m not in the mood for one. And I have a feeling this isn’t going to end in moody sex.
“Okay,” I say, gathering myself. “He said he hopes I’m okay and that something will be happening very soon, and I should keep my head down for a while. Um … something about he’s spent his whole life trying to keep me safe and he doesn’t want to fail you now. And it’ll all be over soon.”
Troy stands tall, his eyes dark. “I need to make some calls. Please don’t put out an SOS or anything while I’m gone.”
“Troy …”
For the first time, he doesn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty
Dahlia
Rain pelts the roof and bolts of lightning crack through the sky almost continuously. A chilly breeze blows through the room, causing the floor-to-ceiling curtains to dance. It’s the perfect day to curl up with a book and nap the day away. I’ve tried. After Troy disappeared from the bedroom and didn’t come back, I fled to the third story and tucked myself away in the screened-in room.
A soft blanket covers my legs, and a book lays on my lap. I found it on a shelf in the living room. It looks good, a sports romance of all things, but I can’t get into it. My real-life hero is somewhere in this house and isn’t talking to me.