Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
“You know what?” I swallow. “I think I need to take back what I said to you on that plane in Seattle.”
“What was that?”
“I think you being a part of ‘the latter’ will be a problem for me, after all.”
“It wasn’t a problem when I was devouring your pussy.”
“That’s—” My cheeks redden. “That was different.”
“So you just want to use me for sex?” He smiles, and my body betrays me with a bevy of butterflies in my stomach.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I’ll help you figure it out.” He slides a hand down to my neck as the garage falls quiet again.
“What happened to the person who did this job before me?” I can’t help but ask.
“He quit,” he says. “And the one before that didn’t get this far.”
“She quit, too?”
“You’re the first woman I’ve ever hired as a courier,” he says, railroading my next question. “But no, that one didn’t quit. He died.”
My eyes widen.
“Surrounded by his family and friends because of an unexpected and aggressive disease,” he says. “Anything else before I stop answering questions for the day?”
“What happened to the last woman you dated?”
“You mean first?” He smirks. “She’s standing right in front of me.”
Silence.
“Are you sure I can’t switch to the second job?” I ask.
“One hundred percent,” he says. “I’m running late for it, anyway.”
“I don’t think that I should be punished for that.”
“Not this time.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “But for the record, there are always three emergency cell phones in any car you drive for me. If your phone ever stops working because of a signal blocker, use one of those.”
“I don’t think I’ll be working under you for much longer, Ryder.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says, stepping back from me.
Suddenly, a man in a dark grey suit appears and hands me my duffle bag and cell phone.
Ryder looks as if he wants to say more to me but he holds back, and his entire demeanor shifts.
“Boarding for your flight to JFK starts soon, Miss Jane,” he says. “You should go check in.”
“Wait.” My meeting with Kylie crosses my mind. “I thought I was flying to LaGuardia.”
“You were until this incident,” he says, gesturing toward the suit. “We’ve rerouted my asset delivery, and I’ll make sure no one follows you.”
Shit.
“Is there a problem, Miss Jane?” He raises his eyebrow.
“No.” I step back. “JFK is great.”
“Call me when you land for the last instruction.” He heads toward the door, looking me over one last time. “You’ve already lasted longer than my last five couriers. Good job.”
End of Episode 23
Episode 24
Ryder
Hours Later
I’m staring at mountains of grey ashes, walls of orange fire, and two dozen emergency trucks.
The pictures in front of me are penning a story I know all too well, an unfortunate novel that I swore never to read again.
They’re making me remember all the headlines in the news, painfully spelling out each letter one by one.
Ravaged by Flames, Estate Burned Overnight
Five People Dead in Fire, Nine Critically Injured
Rochester Estate Ruined
As I force myself to look at the last one—the charred remains of my red office chair—I clench a fist under the table of this hole-in-the-wall-cafe.
I should’ve sent someone else to do this after all.
“I’m surprised you flew here for this session, Mr. Rochester.” A brunette smiles at me from across the table. “My boss says you never show up for these.”
“I’ve just been reminded of why.” I shut the file of pictures and slide it to her. “You have four minutes to tell me why you sent an urgent FedEx letter for this.”
“Well, first, um…” Her cheeks flush red again. “I’m Grace Poole, the new head of the division. Since the state of Washington and we at the ATF have never formally closed the case on your estate fire, I want to go over some things that still aren’t lining up for us. Is that okay?”
I say nothing.
“Okay then.” She clicks a pen. “At the time of the fire, you were on a date with someone, correct?”
“No.”
“Just checking.” She shrugs. “Seeing if you’ve changed your story over the years.”
“I knew this was a waste of my time.” I stand to my feet. “Tell your boss to never expect a meeting with me again. And don’t send me another letter.”
“People died under your watch that night, Mr. Rochester.” She glares at me. “And their families are still desperately searching for answers.”
“Then do your job and find them,” I say. “I wasn’t there when the fire happened.”
“I’m starting to think that you were.”
Silence.
“That part of the investigation has been over for a very long time.” I push the chair in. “Picking at old wounds won’t make them heal any faster.”
“Spoken like a person who has never lost anyone.” She stands to her feet as well. “Do you know how agonizingly painful it is to wake up in a world without someone you love?”