Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
- Why are you texting me, Quin?
That was blunt for her. I wondered if it was simply the wall that was up thanks to communicating in a way that allowed you time to gather your thoughts. Or if maybe she was simply a little off-put, no matter her claims to the contrary, and it was making her more bold.
Unfortunately, I didn't have a good answer for her.
That's a good question.
And that was it for the night.
I wondered if when she climbed in her tub or onto her couch later - because I doubted she had graduated back to her bed yet - if she could get any sleep.
Me, I didn't get a wink.
And it was a habit that lasted for the next week.
Once plans were underway, there was no time for luxuries like rest. We had to perform a military-style operation on foreign soil without getting killed or caught. This was, undoubtedly, one of the most dangerous operations in any of our careers.
Occupied as I was, my hand twitched toward my phone in those minutes right before sleep, wanting to check in, wanting to keep contact, despite knowing it was a bad idea.
It wasn't until eight days had passed when I finally scrolled through my contacts to her name.
It was a shit day.
Miller had Sergai Korol screaming in her face for hours, making her come back pissed off and in a drinking mood. Kai had been sullen, telling me that the wife had been paraded around them again, likely with new injuries to report.
And on top of that, Fenway was pissed at their demands. The man might have made a fortune, but he didn't stay rich by dolling out double-digit millions to some greedy Russians.
We were at a standstill with negotiations.
And we were already into the first week of December.
It was going to be a long month.
Or more.
And it was weighing on me.
I guess I just needed something good.
And that something, for me, was her voice.
As cheesy as that shit was.
"'Ello?" she grumbled, voice groggy, only half-focused, prompting me to glance over at the clock on the TV. If it was almost 5AM here, it was only around nine at night there. And she was already asleep?
"Hey, babe," I said, reaching for one of the laptops Smith had picked up since we landed, opening it up, and looking around.
"Quin?" she asked, sounding alert, but confused.
"Yeah."
"What time is it?" she asked, and I heard shuffling.
"Nine there. Five here."
"In the morning?" she hissed, and there was a small crash. "I know you're an early riser, but this is taking it to the extreme."
I smiled at that, already feeling some of the tension slip from my shoulders. "I haven't been to bed yet."
"Why not?" she asked, and I could hear water running, likely, I figured, her making some coffee.
"Long day. I couldn't settle down."
There was a pause as she carefully chose her words. "Things aren't going as you hoped?"
"Things are a lot more complicated than I planned on."
"That sucks," she said, making a clicking sound, and in the background, I could hear Mackey's nails on the floor as she, I imagined, let him outside.
"You got Netflix?" I asked after I heard the door open and shut, then the muffled slam.
"Ah... yeah?" she half-declared, half-asked, likely thrown off by the question.
"Bring it up."
"Bring up Netflix?" she repeated. "Why?"
"Just tell me when it's up."
"Bossy," she grumbled under her breath, but I could hear her hands on the keys of her laptop as she plugged it in. "Okay. It's up."
"Wanna watch A Good Day to Die Hard with me, and bitch about how unrealistic the action sequences are?"
"You... want to watch a movie with me?" she asked, tone almost hesitant, like she was worried that by clarifying it, I might change my mind.
"Yes."
"Oh, um, okay," she agreed, and I could hear clicking as she typed it in. "Okay, say when."
Then we spent the next two hours ripping apart a movie that was a vague, pathetic facsimile of the first in the series.
"You can't be serious," I said, smiling out the window at the sun, blinding bright against the white snow. There had been another dusting the afternoon before. "You can't possibly think Live Free or Die Hard is the second best in the series."
"I like Justin Long. I know, I know. That is an unpopular opinion, but I find him believable here." She ended on a long yawn that made me realize it was getting late for her.
"You should catch some sleep, babe," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
"You're the one who needs sleep," she shot back, but she sounded groggier by the moment.
"I'll catch a couple hours before the day gets started again."
"This was fun," she said after a long, strained silence.
It was that.
I was actually surprised how much I enjoyed something as silly as watching a movie with a woman. A woman that I couldn't even touch. She was half a world away, and yet this was one of the most enjoyable nights I had had in ages.