Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I throw my bag onto the windowsill, then haul myself up. The frame scrapes my ribs, and for a second my hips get stuck—but with a muttered curse, I wiggle free and tumble onto the narrow strip of landscaping outside. The rough bark of a decorative shrub catches my hair, and I twist until I’m free. Classy, Isabel. Very graceful.
Wasting no time, I scurry around to the side parking lot, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lincoln hasn’t come storming out after me. The coast is clear—for now.
“Sorry, big guy,” I whisper under my breath, feeling a stab of guilt in my gut. “But you’ll forgive me when I’ve solved this.”
I unlock my car, yank the door open, and toss my bag inside. My heart is still thudding like a jackhammer as I slide in behind the wheel. Every muscle in my body is thrumming with tension, but there’s also a strange sense of exhilaration. This is what I do best—solve problems, track leads, chase the truth.
When the engine roars to life, I allow myself a tiny triumphant grin. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know exactly who it is without looking. Lincoln. He probably discovered the empty bathroom and the open window by now. That’s going to be an interesting conversation.
“Guess I’ll deal with that later,” I mutter, pulling out of the lot.
I can almost picture Lincoln’s furious face as he realizes I’ve slipped away. Despite the guilt nibbling at the edges of my conscience, a part of me is definitely proud that I managed to outsmart him for once. That man is practically unflappable.
As I head toward the highway, I let out a shaky breath. My gut churns with a mix of exhilaration and nerves. I don’t know exactly who’s threatening me, and I have no idea how dangerous they really are, but I do know one thing: I’m not going to live in fear.
My phone buzzes again, and I glance at it. Five missed calls from Lincoln. One from Dean. That’s enough to make my pulse spike a little higher. Still, I press down on the gas, turning onto the open road.
I let the tension loosen from my shoulders as the cityscape slides by. For better or worse, I’m doing this my way. If I have to face Lincoln’s wrath later, so be it. Right now, I have a lead to chase…and a strong desire to prove that I’m more than just Dean Maddox’s little sister.
And maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m hoping that by the time Lincoln catches up with me, he’ll realize I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a Maddox. We don’t go down without a fight.
Chapter 3
Lincoln
Five minutes. That’s exactly how long it’s been since Isabel disappeared behind the bathroom door. Five minutes that feel like an hour. I’ve been pacing the hallway outside, ignoring the curious stares of people passing by, tapping my foot against the tile and pretending everything is perfectly under control. Except it’s not.
I knock firmly on the door. “Isabel?” No answer. “Isabel, if you don’t open this door in ten seconds, I’m coming in.” My voice echoes in the hallway, but there’s nothing on the other side but silence.
Ten seconds pass. Then fifteen.
I mutter a curse under my breath and push open the door. It isn’t locked. Inside, the bathroom is empty. Empty and silent. My eyes skim the stalls—nobody’s in them. No sign of Isabel. Instead, the window on the far wall is wide open, and a cold draft breezes in, rustling the edge of the paper towel dispenser. My stomach twists.
“Dammit, Isabel,” I growl. That stubborn, impulsive woman just escaped out of a bathroom window while I was standing guard outside. I check the corners, just in case there’s some bizarre explanation, but there’s nothing. She’s gone.
My first instinct is to whip out my phone and call Dean. Tell him his sister’s gone AWOL and it’s on me. But I hesitate, my pride warring with my sense of responsibility. Five minutes into my assignment, and I’ve already lost the woman I’m supposed to protect. That’s unacceptable.
I can’t let Dean down. More importantly, I can’t let Isabel wander into danger because she thinks she can handle everything on her own. She has a lead on the person threatening her—fine, so be it. But I’m not about to let her chase that lead by herself.
I sprint out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and through the front lobby. A few people glance up from their desks—employees, clients, I don’t know—but I ignore them, heart pounding in my ears. Bursting through the main doors, I hurry across the parking lot, scanning for my SUV. There it is, parked at the far end. I make a beeline for it.
Once inside, I fire up the engine. The tires squeal against the asphalt as I tear out of the lot. I start checking every row of cars as I maneuver onto the main road, hoping to spot her little white sedan. Nothing. My pulse is jackhammering. Think, Lincoln. Which direction would she go? She’s probably heading for that lead she mentioned, or maybe trying to get lost in the city traffic.