Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“But what are you doing?”
“Please don't ask me that. I’m begging you. I can’t say and I don’t want to lie.”
She chews a fingernail. “This is messed up. We’re trying to be partners here. We’re trying to… I don’t know… do whatever this thing is, but now you clearly don’t trust me.”
I drag myself away. I put space between us, because if I don’t, I’m going to spill everything. When she’s around it’s like I have no power over myself, and that’s fucking dangerous. I inch back toward the bedroom door.
“I’m staying at my apartment until it’s done.”
“Brenden! Are you kidding me? You’re abandoning me again?”
“It’s for a couple nights. When I’m back, we’ll concentrate on getting you free. That’s all you really want, right?”
Her hands ball into fists. She looks like she wants to curse me out, which is interesting, but I don’t want to interrogate her reaction too much.
I only want to get the hell out of here.
“Go ahead, run away. I might as well get used to it!”
Her words echo after me and sting like a wound as I escape into the night, hating myself and this fucked position I’m in.
CHAPTER 14
BRENDEN
Atrick I learned a long time ago: always leave a back door.
Or a side window with a false lock.
I lower myself into the Haik mansion and pause to listen. I adjust my gloves and tug on my black mask. It’s scratchy but it’s thin and it’ll cover my identity on the off chance I’m spotted. The house is dead silent at two in the morning. It’s starting to get familiar sneaking around this place after dark. I’m in a second-floor guest bedroom in the northwest corner, not far from where the blueprints indicated I needed to go.
This job is fucking thin. It’s god damn water at best. Arsen’s envelope contained the blueprints with a first-floor room marked and listed a few models of electronic safes I might encounter. All I know is, whatever’s in that room, in one of those safes, has to come with me when I leave. Could be a pile of gold coins or it could be a vial of Ebola virus.
Don’t know and don’t care.
I want to get this over with.
The floor is mercifully quiet. I stay on the carpet, ghosting through the house by memory. The envelope and its contents are long burned and the ashes were scattered in the gutter.
It’s strange being here without Tallie. Before, I only snuck into this house because I was desperate to see her. Now I’m avoiding her because I don’t trust myself when she’s around. It’s a messy marriage.
A sound makes me pause. It’s a soft, mewling whimpering sound coming from a bedroom door left cracked. I should keep going, but I can’t help myself. Curiosity gets the better of me.
I peer inside and can barely make out a feminine space. Lots of pretty pillows, lacy window coverings, a dress tossed over the back of a chair. There’s a shape in bed, a hump vibrating, and it takes a moment for my brain to make sense of what’s happening.
That’s Annie, the sister.
And she’s crying herself to sleep.
I pull away from the door. This is too private and not my business. But what’s a girl like that got to cry so much about? From what I’ve seen, Annie Sarkissian is smart, attractive, well-liked, and has the world at her feet. And yet there she is, sobbing into her pillow.
I don’t know what’s going on in her life, and I don’t have time to worry about it. I can’t even mention this to Tallie without her knowing I was here tonight. Sometime soon, I’ll check on her and see if there’s anything I can help with, but for now, I have to concentrate.
I make it downstairs and into the indicated room without issues. Surprisingly, it’s a game space, dominated by a pool table, with a couch and a big TV against the far wall. Videogames are stacked on shelves, some new, others very old. One of the children must be a collector. Maybe Davit or Sam? Or one of the oldest siblings?
Doesn’t matter. I get to work in the darkness, checking all the obvious places for a safe and coming up empty. I’m starting to despair when I feel a false latch in the cabinet beside the mini-fridge. I jab it and a panel pops open in the wall, revealing exactly what I came for.
I try the usual suspects on the pin pad first. Birthdays, obvious patterns, stuff like that, but get nothing. Always worth a try. I’ve learned the hard way—more than once—that sometimes the simple solutions are the best.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like that’s happening this time.
I crack my knuckles, roll my neck, and take a deep breath.
Then I get to work.
It takes a few minutes to get the keypad housing off. I have a few specialized tools made for slipping in extremely thin cracks. I remove minuscule screws until I can carefully sift through the wiring. Lucky for me, Arsen’s intelligence was solid, and I was able to prepare for this exact situation.