Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
We were not going to be fast friends. I smiled back at her wordlessly saying ‘get used to me, girlfriend, I’m here to stay.’
I’d been content to sit and watch Elliot while taunting Blondie for the entire night, but my headache slowly got worse, so I rustled through my purse for a painkiller. I didn’t have a single Advil. There was a time when my purse rattled from the amount of pill bottles I’d stashed in there. Uppers. Downers. Muscle relaxers. Yet I was sober-ish. And an aunt whose niece loved toting my Birkin around with sticky hands, so my purse was free of mood-altering substances.
Rain poured against the ceiling of the bar, coming in out of nowhere, harsh and loud. I rubbed my temples as I peered out at the setting sun, the waves moody and angry as water poured from the previously blue sky.
My head was spinning.
I shifted my attention back to Elliot who was at the bar, busier due to tourists seeking refuge from the rain.
When my phone buzzed, I squinted at the text on my screen, my heart dropping at the message from an unknown number.
Wharf. Now. Tell no one. Or she goes into the ocean.
The picture attached was of a familiar set of combat boots and stuffed spider. Clara. Even with a blinding headache, I felt it. The other shoe dropping that I’d almost convinced myself wasn’t going to happen. I’d chastised myself for never fully relaxing, despite having technically gotten rid of the monsters in the night.
If I’d had more sense, I might’ve registered how stupid the text was, would’ve alerted Elliot or Beau or someone. It was the plot of a bad horror movie, obviously baiting me. But my brain felt as if it was stuffed with cotton wool, my mouth dry and my heart a jackrabbit in my chest. All I knew was that Clara was in danger, the clamor of the rain, the throbbing of my head and the urgency in the pit of my stomach forcing me off my barstool.
I teetered on my heels for a second before I walked purposefully out the door. I forgot I was surrounded by people who could help. Help save Clara. Save me.
I forgot to ask for help.
ELLIOT
I took my eyes off her.
Because I’d been lulled into a false sense of security.
Because I trusted that all the darkness had left. That no more killers would appear in my restaurant, trying to take my woman from me. That I wouldn’t find Calliope covered in blood, curled on the floor.
All evidence pointed to that.
Calliope had been right—I was a simple man. Those kinds of things didn’t exist in my life. And I had felt certain that that portion of life was over. Life was simple. The ocean. The restaurant. My family. My woman.
She was happy too. Which filled me with purpose and pride.
Until I saw that her barstool was empty, her laptop sitting closed in what was ‘her spot.’ She carved her name into it with a steak knife to ensure that people didn’t sit there. Locals knew well enough, and she was more than happy to educate tourists. It amused me. Made my cock thicken. But when it came to Calliope, what didn’t?
I wasn’t entirely sure what made my hackles rise, seeing that vacant seat. It was the laptop—she’d never just leave it sitting there, nor the purse that cost more than a used Honda, slung over the corner of her stool.
Calliope wouldn’t just leave those things there, even if she was just going to the bathroom. We were in a small town full of trustworthy people, but she didn’t trust easily. I forced my heartbeat to slow, to give her some time to come back from the bathroom or a phone call to call me overprotective for all the concern showing on my face.
Three minutes. I counted them in my head even as I shook cocktails, poured beers, smiled at patrons.
“Have you seen Ca—” I leaned over to ask Betty, but she was gone. Likely delivering drinks to the full tables. We hadn’t expected the surge of tourists when the season was meant to be over. It was a zoo in here, so she’d offered to help behind the bar as well as waitress.
Which was why a scowling Beau had carried a tray of food out to a table. I flagged him over once he dropped it off.
“We need more fucking waitresses,” he grumbled.
“Calliope’s gone.” I forced my voice to remain calm, even though I knew my brother heard the rising panic in my tone.
Beau, to his credit, didn’t dismiss me. As if he had some kind of danger detector, he was instantaneously on guard. He didn’t know about what happened in New York, but he suspected that shit had happened. I hadn’t told him about Naomi either. I didn’t know if that was the right choice or not. I was living in the gray now.