Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Oh, shoot.”
Damn birth control.
I run back to the bathroom to grab it and shove it in my purse since I already packed my toiletry bag. I shove my bottle of water in my purse, too, and then I’m ready to go.
There’s an extra pep in my step as I turn off all the lights in the apartment and head out the door with my bags. My cute heeled boots make more sound than the comfier shoes I usually favor. I feel like I’m going out on a date for the first time in a lifetime, and it actually feels… good.
I smile and look at my pretty painted nails as I tap out a text to Silvan. “Heading to meet Hugh now!”
A strong gust of wind hits me as soon as I step out of the building.
Of course, it’s windy when I’m dressed like a girl.
I flush as I juggle my bags to free up a hand so I can push my skirt down, then I look around for Hugh intending to make a joke about putting on a show for him, but… he isn’t here yet.
There’s a black car parked on the street, but I wasn’t paying it any mind since I was looking for a stretch limo. Hugh has only ever picked me up in a stretch limo.
The front door on the driver’s side opens and a guy gets out. I’m only half paying attention because that’s clearly not my ride, but then the guy turns around and my stomach drops to my toes. I recognize him.
Joker.
I’m frozen in place as he heads toward me. There’s something naturally predatory about him that makes me uneasy, but then my gaze lands on his hands and my fear spikes.
He’s wearing black leather gloves.
Move!
My instincts wake up a little too late and I stumble back a step in my stupid heeled boots.
Of course, the day I wear heeled boots is the day I get an impulse to run for my life.
I’m 5’9” so I’m hardly short, but he’s taller than I am with a longer stride, so before I can gather my wits and choreograph my getaway, he’s closing in on me. “You must be Sophie.”
“Nope,” I chirp, backing away from him.
He grabs my arm to stop me, shoots a look behind me to survey the scene (and note any potential witnesses?), then brings his gaze back to me.
Not suspicious at all.
“I’m here to give you a ride,” he says.
I try to pull my arm free, but his grip is too firm. “No, thank you.”
“Silvan sent me,” he adds as if that will reassure me.
“He usually sends someone else.”
“Yeah, well… today he sent me.”
That is not encouraging.
I shake my head. “I’m suddenly feeling a bit sick. I think I’ll stay home.”
“Better take a Tums ’cause that’s not an option,” he says simply, then he snatches my weekend bag with his other hand and hauls me over to his car.
My heart kicks up several speeds. “Let me go. I don’t want to scream and make a scene, but I will. I don’t know you; I am not getting into a car with you.”
“You’ve seen me before.”
“At a crime scene. Oddly enough, that doesn’t make me want to get into a car with you.”
“Silvan said you might have some objections. He also said to tell you he invited a friend of yours out to the New Hampshire house tonight to have a little chat, and if you’d like a chance to say goodbye to him, then you should really get in the car.”
Say goodbye.
To him?
I don’t have any male friends. Hell, I hardly have female friends.
My mouth opens and closes, and then a thought passes through my mind.
Professor DeMarco?
He wouldn’t… right? He has no reason to! I transferred out of his class. I haven’t even seen the man since.
I look up and meet a pair of cool brown eyes that make my stomach sink all over again. There’s something unsettling about them, but his clear disinterest when he looks at me neutralizes the unease a bit.
I can’t imagine having him coming at you like that with interest in his eyes.
It would be terrifying.
“Did he… tell you the friend’s name?”
“If you want any more information, you’ll have to get in the car.”
I bite down on my lip, my gaze flitting to the open car door on the passenger side. I very much do not want to get in… but surely Silvan wouldn’t have sent this guy to pick me up if he didn’t trust him.
Also, despite putting in actual effort to look cute and having more exposed skin than I’ve shown in public in about two years, the man could not be less interested. His gaze hasn’t lingered for a millisecond. Even his touch felt clinical when he grabbed my arm.
I’m not overly worried about him pouncing on me, but I am still uncomfortable getting into his car.