Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Not like Baylor’s now was.
Heaving myself out of the truck, I held the door open for Pongo and locked it before following him up the concrete path that led to the bright red door. A red door that Harold had apparently written the two of them up for numerous times since it wasn’t on the ‘approved colors list.’
Walking into Travis and Hannah’s quiet house, I locked the door and settled on the couch to finish my book.
Then I cried because the ending was so like my own. I just hoped, once everything was settled in my life, that I didn’t end up without the love of my life like the heroine in my book did.
If Baylor was hurt because of my ex, I would literally tear Sal apart with my bare hands.
***
The first inkling that something was wrong was the light glowing in the living room windows.
Frowning, I walked to the window and barely cracked it open.
After years of trying to spy on Sal, I knew better than to do anything more than that because it was so obvious from the outside when it was dark when someone was looking out.
Though, Sal was the one to tell me that. I guess he wasn’t totally useless.
It took me a few seconds to understand what I was seeing, and by the time I did, I gasped and backed up.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
I heard the knock, thought about answering it but decided if it was anyone that mattered they’d have called first. Plus, seeing as this wasn’t my house, I really didn’t feel the need to answer it.
And, if I was being truthful to myself, I was scared of who was on the other side.
Pongo stood from his lazy sprawl and stared at the door, but didn’t once bark.
Thank God.
My phone rang, and I cursed the loud ringing that filled the quiet room. Had whoever was at the door heard it? Oh, shit!
“Hello?” came my whispered reply.
“Don’t answer the door.”
I looked at the phone, wondering who it was, and put it back to my ear.
“Who is this?” I whispered.
“Tate Casey.”
My brows rose.
“What are you…how do you…”
I couldn’t get my thoughts to complete themselves.
“I’m outside,” he said. “We were taking turns watching over you…in case.”
A tear slipped from my eye.
“Yeah?”
The ‘yeah’ came out so squeaky and breathy that I cleared my throat and said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Don’t answer the door. Not sure who the guy is, but I just watched him light your house on fire.”
And my suspicions were confirmed.
“Shit.”
“Don’t answer the door,” he repeated. “I can’t do a goddamn thing because my hands are tied with the law. I don’t want to risk it. But the cops have already been called…what’s left of them, anyway.”
I don’t think I was supposed to hear that last part, but I chose to stay silent. “What do I do?” I whispered.
The knocking started again, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to look out the peephole.
And I saw a hand blocking the hole.
Motherfucker!
Pongo pressed into my side, and I backed away and decided to go to check on the girls. But first, I stopped at the back door to make sure it was locked, too.
I’d never been happier to see that they had a solid wood door at the back with absolutely no exposed windows.
If he happened to come back here, he wouldn’t see in.
Thank God.
I knew, from the bottom of my soul, that it was Sal.
I knew it like I knew, instinctively, that Baylor was a good man when I first saw him. It was something I could just feel.
Like I could practically feel the evil wafting off of the man on the other side of the door.
“Where are you?”
I still had the phone pressed to my ear. Imagine that.
“Checking on the girls.”
Since I was further away from the door, I was speaking a little louder, but not much.
Pongo’s silent presence stayed with me the entire way.
“Stay back there,” he said. “The cops are two minutes out…volunteer fire department is probably further…your old place isn’t going to make it. They may get here in time to keep it from spreading to the weasel’s house.”
For some reason, I wasn’t upset about my ‘old place’ not making it. Nor would I be upset about Harold’s place not making it. But on the other side of my old place was a young couple who’d spent their entire life savings to purchase their house…and they didn’t have insurance. Why I knew that, I didn’t know. They’d mentioned it in passing one day, telling me that they couldn’t afford it, and it stuck with me.
Mostly because I hadn’t had insurance on the car I’d been driving, and I knew how it felt.
I knew what it felt like to wonder how you were going to pay your next house payment and which bill you weren’t going to pay that month so you’d at least have Ramen noodles to eat and gas money to get you to work.