Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Nothing.”
“You’ll quit for free?” Perfect.
“I won’t quit at all. I signed up to do a job, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Hmmm…” I gaze back out the window. I’m a job. I’ll just have to be the worst damn job he’s ever had.
“Whatever you try, it won’t drive me away.”
I whip toward him and grunt, grabbing my neck. “How did you—?”
“I’m good at what I do. And you are not good at masking your thoughts. Plus, you mumble.”
“I do not mumble.”
“You do. Now, we need to discuss your employment. I assume you’ve taken a leave.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
He cocks his head my way. “Because it’s not safe. Whoever attacked you could be waiting for you to return to work. Have you thought the same person who attacked you could have been sending those flowers?”
My lips thin, and I tear my eyes from his to look out the window. “It’s highly unlikely they’re connected.” I wait for him to agree with me. Even argue. He says nothing, which only leads me to believe he thinks they are. “Well, I’m still working.” I cross my arms over my chest.
The remainder of the drive is quiet. When we hit my apartment, I bolt from the car before he’s even in park and take off inside. I’m shoving my key into my lock when I feel a presence at my back. I jump and twist around, finding Tate. “Jesus, how did you get up here so fast?”
“Give me your key.”
“What?”
“Give me your key. I’m going to enter the apartment first. Make sure it’s empty.” I roll my eyes because this is so stupid and slap my key in his palm. “Stay put.”
“Stay put,” I mock, but do as he says. A minute or two passes, and he returns. “It’s clear.”
“Great.” I walk past him and give him the old shoulder bump, grunting when he doesn’t budge, and my shoulder feels like I slammed it into a wall. “I—I need to take a nap.” I wave him off as I head down the short hall. “You do…whatever it is you do.” I walk into my bedroom and shut the door.
Snagging my phone out of my back pocket, I throw myself onto my bed. First order of business, I shoot Fay a message.
Me: I hate you.
Fay Fay: You love me.
Me: Despise is more like it. Remember that one time I told you your new haircut really accentuated your features? I lied. It made your nose look big.
Fay Fay: Still love you
Ugh! I slam my phone into my covers. Is this really happening? “This has to be a bad dream.” I close my eyes, wishing for it all to go away. Visions from last night flood back. A faceless man with rough hands and sour breath. The ability to fight back taken from me. “Fuck.” My eyes snap open, and I sit up, rubbing my hands down my face, hissing when I irritate the large scrape on my forehead. So much for sitting here with my thoughts. I grab my phone and text my boss at Bev’s.
Me: Any open shifts tonight?
Harry: Meredith just called in sick. You want 4 to close?
Hell yeah, I do. Nothing like working to forget your problems.
Me: Be there with bells on
Up I go.
Snagging a fresh outfit from my closet, I quietly open my bedroom door and tiptoe to the bathroom. Dropping my clothes on the toilet seat, I shimmy out of my tight sweater, grab my toothbrush, and lather on some minty paste. I shove the brush in my mouth and gaze into the mirror. My hand stills as I take a good look at myself—something I haven’t done since the attack. I brush my fingers over a bluish-purple ring forming on my neck. My eyes raise higher, and I tap the wound on my forehead. Greedy hands. Hot breath. Disgusting tongue. “Fuck…” I drop my toothbrush in the sink and bow my head. Why did this happen to me? Deep breaths, Parks.
A soft knock sounds on the door. “You okay in there?”
I roll my eyes, forgetting the damage some maniac did to me, and stare up at the ceiling. “Yes, Dad. Just brushing my teeth. Do you want to come in and make sure I do the proper up, down, and side-to-side?”
He doesn’t answer me. Which is good. We both wouldn’t fit in here anyway. Washing away the thoughts of last night, I focus on getting ready. I slide into a tight black shirt and wrap my neck with a fashion scarf. Slapping on a smile, I exit the bathroom and find Tate standing by the front window, pulling back the shades. “Spot any bad guys?”
“Have you noticed any suspicious cars out front lately?”
“Um, have you seen the neighborhood I live in? They’re all suspicious.” I walk into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. “Not sure what ogres drink, but I’m making a pot of coffee if you want some.” I turn to him. “I may have some onions. You like those, right?” My lips curl into a goofy smile. His, not so much. “You know, like Shrek? He eats onions. Ogre. Shrek. You… never mind.” I grab a mug from my cabinet.