Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“I’m okay. I really am.”
“Aspen told me about the two of you,” he announces, and it falls on my ears like a lead weight. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”
My heart clenches and a surge of heat—the heat of betrayal—threatens to singe my insides before reason calms me. Of course, she’d do that. I’m sure as soon as they knew Ren had taken me, she confessed our conversation. It might’ve been a means of convincing Q he had nothing to worry about, that Ren would never hurt me. That I’d want to be with him.
“She told you?”
“I know she broke her promise not to tell anyone, but you need to understand we were losing our minds. Mom was inconsolable, Dad was literally going to go on a killing spree, and I was right behind him. Aspen only told us so we would calm down.”
“We’ve had men looking for you far and wide,” he continues, his words still rushed. “Dad’s been working day and night, calling police departments and greasing palms to make sure we hear first of anything out of the ordinary. He’s on the edge. It’s a miracle he hasn’t killed anyone yet for lack of decent intel.
“And Mom’s… still beside herself,” he adds, some of the anxiousness draining from his rant. “There’s no comforting her, no matter how we try.”
This is nothing new. It comes as no surprise. She already lost Adela, and now I’m gone, too. I never asked Ren to kidnap me, so why does the crushing weight of immense guilt threaten to make me crumple on the spot.
There’s no time for this. He won’t be in there forever. We might already have taken too long. “Listen, please. I’m sorry I’ve had you worried, and please, please, tell Mom and Aspen I’m fine. I mean it. They don’t have to worry about me. None of you do.”
“Where are you? Can you tell me?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But that’s not why—”
“You can’t tell me anything? Dammit, you should’ve called the house so we could track your location.”
This is spinning out of control. I turn away from the bathroom toward the window, my voice little more than a breath. “Listen to me, for fuck’s sake. That’s not why I’m calling. I don’t need to be rescued. I’m not the problem.”
Wrong choice of words. So very wrong. “Ren is? What’s wrong with him? What’s he doing to you?”
“Nothing, I swear! But he’s—”
Everything in me freezes for a heartbeat when the latch clicks. When Ren opens the door behind me.
In the time it takes the hinges to squeal, I end the call, clutching the phone to my chest in one trembling fist. Please, don’t let him see. Don’t let him know. All at once, a deep certainty of the betrayal he’ll interpret this as slams into me and makes my stomach churn.
“Hey,” he murmurs, sounding playful. “I was thinking, we should conserve the hot water. Wanna join me?”
He hasn’t noticed. I wonder if he realizes he left the phone sitting out. I have to answer him. “Give me a second so the water will run hot by the time I get in there. I’m not used to cold showers like you are.” I throw a careless grin over my shoulder, my teeth grinding together.
He only laughs softly, arching an eyebrow. “Better hurry. I’m not in a patient mood.” He ends on a growl before closing the door, leaving my body to sag a little as the tension breaks and my muscles go watery.
There’s no time to call Q again. All I can do is delete the record of the call, then place the phone exactly where I found it.
The sense of guilt at betraying Ren’s trust leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I had the right intentions.
He needs help, and I don’t think I’m the person best suited to give it to him.
27
REN
“The biggest little city in the world.”
She hasn’t said much throughout our drive, and until now, I imagined she was too upset to speak. Not that I’d be much fun to converse with. I’m a bit too distracted for that.
I’ve been too distracted all week.
With that in mind, I reach over to squeeze her thigh once we’ve passed beneath the sign spanning the width of Virginia Street. “It’s a shame you’re a little kid, or we could do some gambling.”
“Shut up,” she warns, swatting at my hand. “I look older than my age.”
“They’d probably card you, child. Not that it matters, we won’t have time for that,” I continue, scanning both sides of the street as we roll along. I haven’t seen any familiar faces, but I can’t shake the idea of William being out here somewhere. Preying on stupid kids who don’t know any better.
Would he recognize me?
Are they on alert after what happened to Christian?