Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“You would?”
I nod, hoping my plan to soften him with a sandwich would work. “Yes. I keep a jar of cheese-stuffed pretzel bites in my desk at the church. They’re like little bites of pizza, and I love pizza.”
He nods to the door behind me. “You got pizza in there?”
“No. But maybe we can go get pizza…on the way to the church?” The question comes out full of hope, and Jordi’s smile gives me a modicum of hope.
Until he starts shaking his head, a look of regret on his face. “Sorry, Letty, that’s not happening.”
“But Pastor Braden just called and he needs me to come in today.”
He just keeps shaking his head as if my words mean nothing to him. “I thought today was your day off.”
“No. Technically, it’s not because I called in sick. But he sounds really hectic and says he needs me to come in right away.”
“Then you should call him back and tell him that sick means sick, and you can’t come in.”
“This is my job, Jordi.” I insist, but I know it sounds as if I’m whining. “He needs me, and I have to be there.”
Jordi shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Letty. My orders are that you have to stay here. In this house. Period.”
“What are you going to do, lock me in?” It’s childish to taunt him like this. I know that, but still, I can’t stop myself.
“If that’s what I have to do, you bet your ass I will.”
He gives me a serious expression, and I know his loyalty to Shades means he will keep his word no matter how much it angers me.
“Do you want me to call Shades?”
“No!” I shake my head. “No,” I answer, a little calmer this time. “It’s fine. I guess I’ll call the pastor back and hope I still have a job in the morning.”
Jordi’s expression shifts to sympathetic. “Even Jesus took a day to rest. You mean to tell me you’re not even allowed that much?”
When he says it like that, it sounds ridiculous to be so adamant about going in to work when I already called in sick, but I have to.
“Fine. Whatever. Take the sandwich anyway.” I shove it in his hand and turn on my heels, marching away with as much attitude and anger as I can muster before slamming the door and locking it.
Something is wrong at the church. Pastor Braden wouldn’t call me to go in if something wasn’t wrong. Is it the books? Have I made a mistake with some accounting matter that will make the church or Pastor Braden look bad? No, it can’t be. Something like that should be able to wait until tomorrow.
What could it be?
Only one way to find out.
“I have to go.” I disarm the security system with a quick prayer of forgiveness and tiptoe up the steps to change into a pair of flats that’ll make what I have to do next easier.
Inside one of the downstairs guest bathrooms, I hold my breath and slide the window open. Ten seconds later, I’m on the other side of the window, staring back inside at the bathroom with a longing expression on my face.
“This is why a good girl doesn’t go bad. It’s too stressful.”
I shake my head at the angel on my shoulder, forever reminding me why I shouldn’t do anything fun or reckless.
This isn’t for fun. This is for work.
With that silent reminder, I creep to the garage at the far end of the property where Dad stores the cars we don’t use often and snag a pair of keys before using the service exit to get to the main street.
It’s sneaky and underhanded, and I’ll ask for forgiveness for lying and deceiving Shades and Jordi, but later.
For now, Pastor Braden needs me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Shades
Ace and I pull into the driveway of the stash house, as brazen as can fucking be because who in the hell leaves their stash house unprotected?
“This shit feels too easy,” I tell Ace as we walk right inside the house with the unlocked doors.
Ace nods. “It’s strange as fuck, I’ll admit that.” But his tone tells me that he has no plans to go back now.
I look around the house just to be sure we’re alone. The first room is empty with dirty walls and a small closet in the corner. The room across the hall is stacked with crates that pique my curiosity, and I look inside.
“Lots of drugs in here,” I shout to Ace.
“What kind?”
“Looks like powder,” I tell him. “Some weed too, but not much.” I reach for a bag of weed and grunt. “Skunk weed. Assholes.” Who in the hell makes money off shit weed in California in this day and age? Fucking assholes, that’s who.
“Got the cash,” Ace shouts, and I follow the sound of his voice to the back of the stash house. “The safe was fucking open. Can you believe it?”