Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“What?”
“I said, breathe.” He replaces the swab with a wet pad, and I nearly go through the ceiling, this sting a fucking killer.
“Fuck!”
“It needs cleaning.”
I grit my teeth, the sting now burning. “Jesus, Doc.”
“You’ll have a lovely dent,” he says, lifting the pad and checking. “The bullet’s taken a chunk of flesh with it.”
“Nice.” I take a look and grimace at the crater in my arm. “Another scar to add to the collection.”
Doc chuckles and checks my shoulder as he unwinds a length of bandage. “It’s healed well.”
“Yeah.”
“What about up here?” He indicates my head with a nod of his. “The girls have been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sleeping?”
“On and off.”
“Did you try the pills I gave Beau?”
I scowl at his hands working around my arm, wrapping it in the bandage. “Not yet.” Neither have I tried the potion she forced on me. Dare not open it because . . . lavender.
“Try them. And let me know if you need any more.”
“Will do.” I won’t. He knows that. But should I? I can’t fuck Allison, not tonight. I can’t fuck Pearl. Ever. Scotch only works temporarily. Coke definitely won’t help. It all begs the question . . . should I try the pills?
He hums, finishing bandaging me up. “Keep it dry and clean.” He pops a bottle of solution on the bedside with another bandage and some cleaning pads. “Want any painkillers?”
I smile and reach for my Scotch. “I’m good.”
On a nod, he packs his bag and leaves quietly, and I’m alone. The silence screams at me. I pull out my phone, putting on a random playlist to kill it, then I find my smokes and light up, wandering out onto the terrace, looking back, listening when a track starts playing. The lyrics. I stand, absorbing them, unable to laugh at the irony. I definitely feel like I’m walking a tightrope. I’m definitely struggling to breathe.
I drop heavily into a chair and slump back.
Smoking.
Listening.
Thinking.
And when the song’s finished, I play it again. Listen again. Stare up at the sky.
Red.
22
PEARL
* * *
I let Doc check me over. Accepted the cup of tea Esther put in my hand, and swapped it for a vodka when I left the kitchen, stepping out in the garden to smoke. I lower to a step. Alcohol has taken the edge off my shock. But I’m still shook up. Not only by the weirdo in the alley, but by the words Brad yelled at me. That man in the alley wasn’t the first man he’d killed today? I don’t know who turned up at the club looking for me. A private detective? Certainly not an ex. For God’s sake. I can’t even be grateful that Brad killed whoever it was before he had a chance to leave the club and report his findings. And now Brad knows there’s someone. Something. And I’m . . . uneasy.
I can’t go back.
How much longer can I shirk the truth? I should go before they find out who I am. Where I’ve come from. But before I even consider exiting the only safe haven I’ve known, I need to know exactly what happened between Brad and the man who was looking for me. Or do I? There’s only one person on this planet who would want to find me.
“Hey.”
I look back. Beau’s stepped out, arms wrapped around her body. “Everyone’s going to bed.”
I hold up my drink. “I’ll just finish this.”
She nods. “Are you okay, Pearl?”
I see the questions past her eyes. So many of them. I truly wish I could give her the answers. I wish I could stay here with her and Rose and everyone else, but I’m slowly accepting that I can’t. So I pull a smile from deep down. “I’m good.”
She accepts, although I can see it’s reluctant, and backs up into James’s body. “Night.”
“Night,” I whisper, swallowing down the lump in my throat. James nods, short and sharp, and I quickly turn away from them before they can see the tears falling. My shaky hand brings the cigarette to my lips, and I pull hard, feeling my tears soaking into the butt, Brad’s words—again—going over and over in my head.
And I’m not done with you, Pearl. Tell me to stop.
He needs to be done with me.
I need to leave. To run. Leave the family I’ve found here.
I look at the gardens, exhaling and stubbing out my cigarette, rising to my feet. Brushing at my cheeks, I head inside, taking the stairs quietly to collect some things. I pass Brad’s room and slow to a stop just past it.
Keep walking. Get your stuff and get out of here.
I can’t risk his hatred and disgust if my truths come out. I wouldn’t survive it if any of them spurned me. My eyes well up again, and I look at the door, something powerful pulling me toward it.