Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel as grief morphed into anger. I wanted to tear the world apart. I wanted to go back and tie Rafe to the bed until he believed me. I wanted to scream at everyone who made it impossible for us to be together. But more than anything, I was angry at myself. I could’ve told Rafe I loved him. Even after everything he’d heard, maybe it would’ve mattered. Or maybe not, but at least the words would’ve been out there.
I pulled into my apartment’s lot and cut the engine. I sat there for a few minutes, hardly even noticing the suffocating heat. Maybe I should stay there; there were worse ways to die than heatstroke.
But Ivanov still needed killing. No matter what Rafe said, I was going to help. And then I was going to do every fucking thing I could to win Rafe back. Because I loved him. I needed him.
I tilted my head against the seat and finally let my tears fall. I’d held them back during the drive, knowing that if I let go, I wasn’t going to be able to get myself home. I collapsed against the steering wheel and shook with sobs. I don’t know how long I sat there, but finally, between the heat and all the tears, I realized I could hardly breathe.
I opened the door, let the air in, and grabbed a napkin from my console to blow my nose. Then I headed into the building.
I knew to always be vigilant. I never took anything for granted, especially when I was on an undercover assignment. But I wasn’t thinking of anything except Rafe. I entered the building and climbed the steps to my apartment. I vaguely noted that there was a man at the top of the stairs, but I paid no attention to him. Several other people lived in the building, one of whom had people over all the time. I wasn’t really watching or listening.
Pain burst through the back of my skull. There was someone behind me—I hadn’t even known he was there. I fought against the blackness trying to consume me, jabbing my elbow back. A man groaned as I caught him in the stomach, but the man who had been at the top of the stairs rushed toward me, gun in hand.
In a Russian accent, he said, “Don’t make a sound.”
Stars danced in front of me, and my head throbbed. All I knew was that if I thought I’d fucked up before, I’d really done it now. I was never going to see Rafe again. I must’ve passed out then, because the next thing I knew, there was duct tape over my mouth, and I was bound hand and foot in the back of a car.
34
RAFE
My hands shook as I parked next to Zach’s car. What the fuck was I going to say? How was I going to know if I should believe him or not?
I didn’t know, but I had to do this. If Dante thought Zach might be telling the truth, and if I felt somewhere in my gut that I’d fucked up, I couldn’t back out now. I wasn’t going to throw whatever I had with Zach away because I refused to accept that he might have needed to lie.
Did I really refuse to believe him because I assumed everyone thought I could be tricked and used? Fuck. Enough stalling. I got out of the car and headed to the building. Someone was on their way out, and I grabbed the door before it could close.
As I did, I noticed that the lock was broken. I didn’t think much of it though. Someone must’ve lost their key and gotten fed up with it.
A few steps from the bottom, I saw a phone on the ground. Wait. Was that Zach’s phone? I bent down and picked it up. As soon as it lit up, I knew that background. How would Zach not notice he didn’t have his phone? I slid it into my pocket, but when I looked up the stairs, I saw a red stain smeared across one step—then more on the next one. Blood. I didn’t need to look any closer to know.
I ran the rest of the way to Zach’s door and knocked. No response. No point in calling him. I knocked again, harder this time, and then I picked the lock. I charged in, looking all around. He wasn’t there. There was nothing to indicate he’d ever been there tonight.
I ran back down the stairs and outside, looking for any clues—footprints, more blood. I turned on the flashlight on my phone, and I saw it: grass smashed down, a trail of blood leading all the way to the far side of the parking lot where there was no light. No one would notice if a person was forced into a car or if someone was dragging a body.