Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Then sirens cut through the air. They start suddenly, and I know what that means. The bastards waited until the last minute so they could claim, after the fact, they’d done everything by the book.
“Fuck,” I growl, leaping away from her.
“What is it?” my Maya asks.
“I need to get to my car.”
I pull up my pants and run through the house, my mind clashing and cloudy as my head tries to play catch up. It’s like events are slogging along slowly. I need to get into action mode.
If I get to the car and make a run for it, they can get me for resisting arrest. I’d rather take that than the drug charge. Even if I get away and they arrest me later. I won’t run entirely. I can’t afford to. I’ve got too much to leave behind.
From the house behind me, I hear Loki barking urgently.
I’m about to climb into the driver’s seat when I realize my mistake, far too late. A tracker’s on my car, glinting up at me from the wing-side mirror, a telltale shine in the rear wheel’s underside. I’ll have to ditch it on the way.
The sirens are getting closer. I can’t fuck around. I climb into the car and start the engine.
The lights burst on, showing Tank standing in his cop’s getup with a bulletproof vest and everything. He frowns at me as he stands in the middle of the road.
Suddenly, the sirens are all around me. I try to get myself to react, to think, to what? Run my friend over? However, he’s not my friend anymore. Betrayal tears through me like a hot bullet. Tank. In a million years, I never would’ve thought Tank would do this.
As the police move in, he walks around to the driver’s side, gesturing at me to lower the window. I do so, then put my hands on the wheel. There’s no use fighting now. Fuck.
“You’re working with Raffie,” I growl.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tank says, unwilling to look me in the eye.
“Do you think they’ll forgive you, Tank? Wilson? O’Connor? The others? Will they forgive you for this?”
Tank looks at me darkly. “How did you think this was going to end? You kept pushing, man.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He steps back as the arresting officer steps forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAYA
Iwatch from the front window, feeling useless as they surround him and move in on the car. Already, lights have started switching on in the other houses. Mom would’ve hated this. Would have, like she’s passed already. I don’t know what to do, what to think. My mouth is still sore in the best way from our kisses.
Everything else is sore, too, in the best way possible, but I don’t have any time to linger on that. The police look tiny as they escort Tristan from his car toward a cop car. He’s so big, towering over them all. Other police are searching his vehicle. One of them holds something up, and a bunch of them cheer. It’s a big white bag of what must be cocaine.
Was Tristan running drugs?
When Mom’s alarm goes off, I spring to my feet, like I’m suddenly returning to the world inside the house. Luna and Loki are barking like crazy from upstairs.
I find Mom half-sprawled out of bed, looking so thin I want to cry. Quickly rushing to her, I help her back into her usual position.
“Mom, what’re you doing?”
“I heard …”
I swallow guiltily. At least the sirens have stopped now. “Everything is fine.”
“Promise?” Mom whispers.
Well, no, I can’t. I shouldn’t do that. Tristan might be a drug runner—the man I can’t stop thinking about. Whatever happens, Mom’s healthcare fund is in jeopardy, but it’s worse than that. What if Tristan isn’t the man he’s pretended to be and who I believe him to be?
I can still taste him. I still want him.
“I promise, Mom,” I whisper.
“Ah, good.”
I hold one of her hands in both of mine, trying not to shift awkwardly in the chair. I’m all sticky down there. Why couldn’t the cops have come just a little later? Listen to me. Is this how I’m thinking already? Hating the cops, automatically trusting Tristan, like he’s my man or something?
“I guess the date’s off,” I whisper under my breath once Mom has fallen asleep. I go upstairs and check on Loki and Luna, then return to Mom when she calls out for me.
Instead of sitting here feeling down about everything, I decide next time I get the chance, I’ll grab my cell and text Tristan. Maybe he’ll get to check his phone, and there’s something I can do to help.
I almost tell Mom, “I’ve been thinking about homes …”
But right now, with my bank balance dwindling, we’ll be lucky to make rent.
Oh, Tristan. Please get free. Please don’t be an evil man. Even to myself, in my own head, I sound pathetic, but I can’t stop. Tristan, please make all this okay.