Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Although a girl can hope, and now I wish I didn’t have my head wrap on. I finger it nervously.
“You need to wake Thea, and both of you get dressed. Pack a quick bag of essentials, and then we’re leaving.”
“What—”
“Ivan Borovsky has escaped from prison. We have to go.” Dozer moves past me toward the hallway. “I’ll get Thea up, you start packing.”
I scramble after Dozer. “Wait. Slow down a minute and explain what’s going on.”
“I’ll explain everything in the car,” Dozer replies, which irritates me. I don’t like to be handled by anyone, much less Dozer.
I flip on the hall light just as he reaches Thea’s door. “She’s not here. She stayed with my mom last night.”
Dozer halts and turns to me, understanding dawning on his face. “Gigi night.”
I nod with a smile. “Gigi night.”
For as long as I’ve had Thea, she’s stayed almost every Saturday night with my mom, or rather, her Gigi. They give each other manicures and watch movies and eat an awful lot of junk food, but Thea loves it so much, and she’s building the best memories.
Dozer doesn’t chastise me for turning on the hall light, and I don’t chastise him for taking another long look at me. We’re friends. I think that’s all we’ll ever be, but I’ve always wished differently.
But I will accept what he gives and be grateful for it, because this man has been there for me for every major event in my life since we were eighteen and starting college. I can count on him for anything, and he loves Thea as if she were his own.
Dozer’s eyes come to mine. “We need to call your mom. I was going to swing by and get her, but to save time, she should meet us at the hotel I’ve booked. Get dressed and packed. I’ll call your mom.”
“Dozer!” I exclaim, feeling panicked. I’ve never seen him so focused on something, and the iron set to his jaw tells me he’s deeply troubled. “Just please take a minute and explain things to me. Then I’ll get hoppin’.”
With a heaving sigh, he runs his hand over his bald head, eyes downcast for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. When they come up to meet mine, they’re no less troubled than when he was standing on my doorstep.
“You said Borovsky’s escaped?” I prompt. “How? When?”
“I don’t know the how of it, but it was reported roughly seven hours ago.”
I consider the timing, mostly focusing on the fact that Dozer had to jump through some fast hoops to get here so quickly from Pittsburgh. “And you think he’s coming here for me?”
“I know he is,” Dozer says irritably. “And you know he is too. Christ, JJ… he was obsessed with you. You going to the police was the biggest betrayal. He even tried to take a hit out on you while he was in prison.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “All bluster. He got shut down, and he’s been very quiet for the last five years.”
This seems to infuriate Dozer—which is an emotion I’ve only ever seen once on his face, and it was directed at Chase, not me, thankfully. In one stride, he’s standing before me and I have to tip my head back to look at him. His dark eyes are clouded with something I might name as fear. “That man threatened you in open court when he was found guilty. Said he’d hunt you down and gut you. Now, you might not think it’s a big deal, but are you willing to put Thea’s life at risk if I’m right and you’re wrong?”
My blood runs cold at the thought. “You really think he’s coming?”
Dozer nods. “Chances are high. All we have to do is get you to safety and hide out until he can be captured.”
“But where?” I ask.
“For now, we’re going to a hotel, but we can’t waste any more time, JJ.” Dozer’s one of the only people who calls me that. Jessica Jayne Anderson is my full name. Casual acquaintances call me Jessica, many of my friends Jess, but the only two people in the world who call me JJ are my mom and Dozer, and it’s used with either affection or irritation.
“How much do I need to pack?” I ask.
“At least a week’s worth,” he says and moves to my daughter’s room. “I’ll call your mom while I grab Thea’s stuff, and then we need to go.”
“Okay,” I say, his urgency increasing my panic. I’m glad Dozer’s calling my mom—she’ll listen to him with no questions asked. She thinks the sun rises and sets on him and will move a lot faster than I did, merely because it’s Dozer telling her.
I hurry into my room, feeling lost. Could Ivan really be coming after me?
It’s so weird to think about him after all these years. I’d dismissed his importance in my life after he was convicted, and I moved on. Of course, he wasn’t Ivan Borovsky to me back then. He was a sham who went by the name Alex Smith. Had me believing he was a legitimate businessman when he was really a higher-up in a Russian criminal syndicate based here in Miami.