Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Caleb appears to be getting through to Fitz, but his loyalty to Jack rings through. “Mr. Carson is not—”
“Here to give orders, Fitzgibbons,” Caleb interrupts, frustrating him more by using his full name. “It’s five fucking minutes, man. Will it really kill you that much to ignore his directive for five fucking minutes?”
When Caleb’s fists ball, I curl my shuddering one over the closest one to me. His body temperature is so high, it makes the shakes hampering mine so much more obvious. I’m shuddering like I’m in an ice bath, and the chatter of my teeth can’t be hidden in the silence of the cab.
After flicking his eyes between Caleb and me for what feels like hours but is merely seconds, Fitz taps on the privacy partition between the driver and us. “Take us to Octavia’s apartment,” he demands when the glass slides down, his voice uneased.
A sense of unease washes through me when the driver locks his terrified eyes with Fitz before replying, “Mr. Carson—”
With a stern look that announces his decision is not up for discussion, Fitz mutters, “Leaves all discretions to me when he isn’t at Octavia’s side. So, as requested, take us to her apartment. Now.”
The driver dips his chin before signaling to bypass the West Seattle Bridge instead of going over it. With the hour early and it being the weekend, it doesn’t take long for him to pull in half a block up from my apartment building. He can’t idle at the curb since people have cleaned out their attics in preparation for the annual curbside collection pickup on Monday.
“Five minutes?”
Fitz notches up his chin in silent response to Caleb’s request. “But not a second more.”
Caleb is quick to unload me out of the car but not quick enough for Fitz to miss his grumbled comment. “It will take him at least thirty to get here from HQ, so I doubt a couple of seconds will hurt.”
He eats his words when our arrival at Jess’s floor of our building has us stumbling onto a confrontation between Jack and Jess.
“You’d have to know where she’d go to seek solace. You’re her friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m her friend.” Jess gets up in his face like her livelihood isn’t in his hands. “That’s why she would usually come here, but you made that impossible by placing security on every corner of the block.”
“For her…”
Caleb barely spins me half an inch when Jack realizes he and Jess aren’t the only two people in the corridor. The anger on his face fades in an instant when his eyes land on me.
“Octavia…”
Even if Caleb wants to stop him from approaching, Jack doesn’t give him the chance. He pushes him aside as if he is the weight of a feather before he pulls me into his chest.
I don’t realize we’re moving until he demands the police officers, detectives, and half a dozen security personnel in my apartment to leave. The smell of our intermingled scents on his skin set off waterworks again. His unique scent reveals he hasn’t showered since I left him. Nothing but finding me has been on his mind the past six-plus hours.
As Jack weaves through the dozens of men in my apartment, I can barely breathe through my sobs let alone demand to know why the police commissioner is in my kitchen.
“I’ll come down to the station later to finalize the paperwork and donate enough funds for you to run for attorney general three times over if you will just get the fuck out.” No amount of power or wealth can deter the devastation in Jack’s voice. It is bristling with pain and almost swamped by regret. “Please, Aaron.”
No one could deny the plea in his voice. Not even a man with an impenetrable shell. After dipping his chin to Jack’s request, Aaron Rickman orders everyone to leave. “Leave it,” he barks at a group of men manning a temporary command station on my dining room table. “We’ll come back for it this afternoon.”
Caleb stands at the side of the living room when a stream of plain-clothes detectives, beat cops, and the commissioner veer past him. Only once our apartment is empty does he lock his eyes with me. “You okay?”
He’s not asking about my mental stability. He knows that is shot to hell. He is merely checking if I am okay being left alone with Jack while he goes and handles Jess, who I hear shouting in the hall.
When I nod, he appears as if he wants to bolt, but his feet remain rooted in place, his heart as torn as mine.
“It’s okay,” I assure him, my quivering lips undermining my effort to quell his worries. “Go to Jess.”
He almost shakes his head until Jess’s angry roar reverberates through our apartment. “Get your hands off me!”