Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“What are your plans?”
“I’m going to ask Frank for the same thing as we’re getting when this is done.”
“And if he says no?”
“He won’t.”
“He might. He’s going to be pissed you hid this from him.”
“I’ll figure it out. She needs a break.”
“She’s been through something rough, I think,” Sean mused.
“Yep. I think so.” My gaze drifted to the monitor again. She was back up at the window, tugging away. “It hasn’t dampened her spirit yet, though.” A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “But I’m afraid it will if she’s out there much longer.”
He stood, his face impassive. “Well, then let’s hope Frank agrees.” He grabbed his jacket. “I’m going to go pick up some things. You better take Skylar some food, and, if possible, try to convince her to stop pulling at that window.”
I groaned. “Somehow I doubt she’ll listen to me.”
“Try.” He chuckled as he paused at the door. “Well, I gotta say, Cian. Bringing her here has certainly made the place lively and interesting. Things have no chance of being dull with her around.”
I entered Skylar’s room loudly by rattling the door handle, giving her the chance to sit down. I smiled benignly at her, ignoring her red-rimmed eyes, and set down the tray. “Lunch.”
She glared at me balefully. “I’m not hungry.”
“Were your muffins that filling?”
She glanced away, her rumbling stomach giving her away. Grinning, I pushed the bowl toward her. “Sean made it. He’s an awesome cook.”
I was granted another angry stare. I leaned forward and twirled some pasta on the fork, popping it into my mouth, chewing it. “See, no drugs. You’re safe.”
“I don’t think safe is a word I’d use to describe anything right now.”
I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. “You are safe, Skylar. I keep telling you. No harm will come to you while you’re here.”
“Whatever.”
I stood, moving over to her chair. I leaned on the arms, trapping her in the seat, keeping my voice low. “You will eat the pasta Sean made for you, Skylar. You will eat it and say thank you next time he comes to check on you.”
Her stubborn little chin jutted out. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I told you to.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
My face broke into a smile. A wide, toothy smile I couldn’t contain.
“Are you sure about that, Kitten?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Just full of orders today, aren’t you?” I arched my eyebrow at her. “Sleep well?”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t like you touching me while I’m asleep. Keep your hands to yourself, jackass. If I want to sleep on the floor, I will.”
“Why? There’s a perfectly comfortable bed right there.”
For the first time, she looked unsure. “I…I don’t want to get used to being comfortable. If what you keep saying is true, it’ll be harder when I’m back on the streets.”
I felt my chest constrict at her quiet but honest words. “You won’t be going back on the streets, Skylar.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I straightened up. “You will.”
Her bravado came back. “Don’t count on it, fuckwit.”
I chuckled, the sad moment passing. Before she could move, I slipped my hands down the side of the seat cushion, pulling out her little tool. She gasped, trying to seize it as I held it over her head.
“Nice try, Skylar. The window doesn’t open, no matter how long you pull and dig at it.” I pocketed her little piece of metal and walked to the door.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
I chuckled, indicating the bars on the floor. “You left evidence behind. Now, eat your lunch. You expelled a lot of energy trying to break out, MacGyver.”
“Fuck you. Gimme back my nail file!”
I laughed. “God forbid your nails don’t look good on the street. You want it back? You have to earn it.”
“How?”
“Eat your lunch.”
“Then I get it back?”
I pulled the door closed. “Then we’ll talk,” I called out.
Ignoring her curses and the names she was calling my mother, I snickered all the way to the kitchen, sitting down in front of the laptop to watch her. I found her fascinating.
She fought it. She glared at the bowl, her knees pulled up to her chest until the aroma finally proved too much to resist. Lunging forward, she gripped the bowl, twirling the pasta like a pro and chewing fast. Mouthful after mouthful disappeared, the bread on the plate meeting the same fate. Finally, she struggled with the tab on the can of Coke, and eventually successful, she guzzled a few mouthfuls and sat back, emitting another loud burp. Once again, just like last night, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Only this time, she giggled before drinking some more of the cola. The sweet, high sound made me grin.
Suddenly, she yelled, “Tell Sean he needs more basil in the sauce!”
I began to chuckle.