Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Muttering curses under his breath, he turned sideways and slipped through the doorway. It had been a long time since I’d taken a geometry class, but the way he maneuvered his hulking body through the doorway without touching Brooke felt mathematically impossible.
“Shut it and lock it,” he ordered over his shoulder, long strides carrying him inside.
I waited for him to stop in front of me. To introduce himself. To acknowledge why he was there. Offer condolences. Reassurance. Hell, I would have taken a cold, dead-fish handshake.
Instead, he blew past me.
He moved through the penthouse like he’d already memorized it, his long legs eating up the space.
He inspected the balcony lock, then moved to the bar, crouching to peer into the cabinet beneath it.
“The cops already did a search,” I said. “Zoey’s asleep in the bedroom, but nobody else is here.”
Slowly, he straightened and turned toward me, tilting his head just enough to make his stare feel like a reprimand. “It took less than three minutes for me to get up here.” The calm in his voice was worse than shouting. “A car horn and a library card rendered the gate guard useless.”
My head snapped back. “What?”
“While he was distracted, I ducked under the gate and then walked through the garage until I found a valet. He opened the door for me after I told him I’d forgotten my room key.”
Brooke let out a quiet string of expletives as I felt the blood drain from my face.
They had assured me that the hotel was secure. They had promised that we’d be safe.
“After that,” he continued. “I took the stairs, read the fire exit placard, made an educated guess about which elevators would lead to the penthouse, and only then did I run into two police officers.”
My skin prickled as fear slithered up my spine and wrapped around my throat.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, reading my horror. “So then I showed my Illinois driver’s license and a Guardian business card to the cops by the elevator. They didn’t validate either. Both could’ve been forged by any schmuck with a printer.” He shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. “Hotel security scanned a keycard in the elevator for me to access this floor, then stepped out and told me to call if I needed anything. No escort. Nothing. Short of offering me his weapon, they handed you to me on a silver platter.”
My vision tunneled as the room suddenly tilted. I caught myself on the arm of the sofa, fingers digging into the leather as my head swirled.
He didn’t move or rush toward me the way Marty would have. He just watched, utterly unfazed. “So yeah. Rule number two.”
“We don’t trust the cops,” I whispered just before the dam inside me broke all over again.
4
DEVON
And now she was crying.
Out-fucking-standing.
Lofton melted into the corner of the sofa, tears dripping from her chin. Her damp brown hair, curling at the ends, hung just below her shoulders.
Lofton Beck was one of Hollywood’s hottest leading ladies. I’d seen her in movies so I’d expected her to be gorgeous—at least on the outside. But without all the makeup and lights, she was a different kind of attractive. Everything from her lips to her lashes was natural, lacking Hollywood’s signature touch of plastic. Her nails were unpolished and jagged, and the freckles peppering the bridge of her nose were definitely something I hadn’t seen on the big screen. She had a two-inch bandage plastered on her forehead, a minor injury I’d been briefed about on the way over. But honestly, I could have passed her on the street without ever doing a double take.
And yes, I was a complete and total asshole for judging her physical appearance as she sobbed in front of me.
Never claimed to be a saint.
“You’re fired!” the petite blonde who had opened the door snapped, rushing toward Lofton.
“As nice as that sounds, I don’t think you can afford to lose me at the moment. This shit is serious, and I’m sorry if that upsets you. Your life is in danger. Not the hypothetical kind. Not what-if or possibly. You are standing shit square in the middle of a worst-case scenario. A maniac wasn’t just willing to kill to get to you—he already did. Twice.”
“You don’t think she knows that?” the woman seethed, hooking her arm around Lofton’s shoulders. “She was there! In that house. Blood on her hands. Keeping my baby girl safe while a member of her family died. So you can fuck all the way off. We are both very aware of how serious this is. Your job is to make her safe, not taunt her with all the reasons she isn’t.”
Maybe it made me a prick—no, it definitely made me a prick—but I was on a roll so I persisted. “Stating facts isn’t taunting. It’s a reality check. Better now than at her funeral.”