Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
She nods and then steps away, walking to the door. I get freshened up and dress in jeans and a chunky ivory sweater that was hanging in the closet. The closet was full of sweaters, but the jeans were either too big or too small. Luckily, whoever packed my suitcases put a few pairs in one of them.
I brush my hair up into a ponytail and loosely tie a brown scarf around my neck, then I’m out the door with one of the designer tote bags from the closet.
In the bag is the pistol Draco gave to me, tucked neatly at the bottom and wrapped in a scarf.
I walk down the stairs, doing a quick scan for any sign of Clark. He’s nowhere in sight, which leads me to hoping he’s actually out making something happen. He has to figure out a way to get me back to Mexico.
Jen trots down the stairs behind me, smiling hard with the keys in hand. “You ready?”
I nod, following her to the door. “Let’s get this girls’ day started.”
After catching breakfast at a pancake house, Jen drives us ten minutes to a salon in the heart of town called Jills. Even while out in the small town, I can’t help but watch my back.
It feels like someone is watching me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe someone is. Either way, I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled.
Jen parks in front of a brick building with glass windows casing the front, giving full view to the stylists and their clients inside. I look to the left, spotting a black SUV parking on the side of the street in front of a bakery, the vehicle’s windows tinted. I narrow my eyes at the SUV.
“Come on. They’re nice here, I promise.” Jen’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she pushes out of the car, shutting her door behind her. I grab my bag and follow her lead, making way to the entrance, taking one last glance back at the truck.
I’m being really paranoid.
No one knows where I am now. He said I was safe.
Unless he has someone watching me from a distance to keep tabs for him. . .
As soon as the door to the salon swings open, a bell chimes above and all eyes shift to us. All of the women smile. Literally, all of them. I would say it’s creepy, but it’s not at all. It’s warm and welcoming, making me forget all about the chilliness outside and the stupid SUV.
The smell of mint and eucalyptus surrounds me, a cooling, comforting aroma.
Jen stops at the front desk, where a woman with blonde hair accented with lavender streaks stands. Her nose is pierced, and the sleeves of tattoos on both her arms are beautiful works of art. Her nametag says Dalia.
She checks us in, and since we’re a few minutes early she leads the way to the waiting area.
The waiting area is quaint and trendy, the sofas upholstered in a black and white pattern with turquoise throw pillows. The table set up in the middle of the area is piled with several fashion magazines. To the right of one of the couches is a water station, the water infused with oranges, lemons, and raspberries, along with a box of donuts.
“Please help yourself to the fruit infused water and donuts. They are always on the house for our clients, and there is plenty more in the back,” Dalia says with a full smile.
“Thanks, Dalia,” Jen responds.
Dalia walks back to the front desk and logs something into the computer. My eyes shift over to the display cases filled with all sorts of things, from hairsprays to shampoos and conditioners. There is even handmade jewelry for sale.
Someone sneezes, and I jerk my head up, focusing on the culprit. A woman in a chair getting highlights wipes her nose aggressively, and then mumbles something to her stylist.
I clutch the handle of my bag tighter, breathing as evenly as possible.
Jen stands up to pour two cups of water, handing me one when she spins around. She takes the seat beside me, blowing out a breath.
“You should try and relax,” she murmurs. “I promise, no one here knows who you are except the family.”
I take the water, lowering my gaze to my tote bag, steadying my breathing. My heart is pounding. I can’t believe I’m so on edge. It’s been so long since I’ve been out alone like this—no guards. No one breathing down my back. No Jefe.
I set my tote down on the spot beside me and then bring the rim of the plastic cup up to my lips, allowing the cool water to fall through my lips and sink down my throat. It’s refreshing, and enough to make me sit back.
“Can I ask you something?” Jen asks after several small sips of her water.