Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Instead, it’s enough money to make all that go away.
“Thank you,” I say, turning away. “Gareth says thanks as well. You were, uh, a great landlord.”
“Where will you go?” he asks. “Not that it’s my business. I’m just curious.”
“I have a place to stay.” For now, at least. I’m not proud, but I skimmed a few twenties from that stack too, just in case. “Remember, I’ve been living with Gareth this whole time.”
“Nice guy. Real polite.”
“Tall, sandy brown hair. Lawyer. Dressed well. Got it?”
“Got it, don’t worry. I remember Gareth.”
Eduardo winks and waves as I walk away.
Here I was thinking he’s a nice guy. Turns out, Gareth is right, all landlords are bastards with flexible morals.
Not that I can blame the guy. His building did just burn to the ground. For all I know, Eduardo had his life savings invested in that place.
And if I’m honest, right now if someone came up to me with a thousand dollars in cash, and all I had to do was pretend I saw someone, I’d accept with a smile.
Still, I have a very low opinion of people at the moment.
And myself, apparently.
I hurry away from the motel. Sweat rolls down my back. It’s a hot Texas afternoon. All I want to do is get inside, out of the sun, into the air conditioning, and drink about ten gallons of water. I must smell like alcohol and bile. These clothes need to be washed, though I have no idea how I’ll get that done. Hell, I need a whole new wardrobe. Which isn’t happening anytime soon.
As I trudge along, I think about Gareth. About the way he was looking at me back in his office. The way he stared at my lips, at my chest. His gaze drifting down my body, tongue licking his lips like he was starving for something. That man acts like he despises me, like I’m the biggest pain in his ass, and yet he looks at me like he wants to drag me off to some cave to ravage me silly.
There’s a sick part of me that wants it too.
He said I moaned. When he kissed me, he said I gave him a little whimper. And in his office, I denied it.
But he’s right. I did whimper. Because that kiss was unbelievable.
Dimly, I become aware of a car. It’s a dark sedan driving slowly, maybe fifty feet behind me. I glance over my shoulder, frowning, shading my eyes against the bright sun. I can’t tell who’s driving, or if someone’s riding in the back, but when I stop walking, it slows even more until the car stops directly across from me.
My heart’s racing with nerves.
I think it’s Gareth until the window rolls down.
Liam Crowley stares out. No smile, no greeting. Just a grim frown, a tilted head.
“Hello, Mrs. Kane,” he says. I can’t tell if he puts an ironic emphasis on the Mrs. part or not. “Where are you going at the hottest time of the day?”
“I was, uh, visiting some people from the apartment building,” I say, plastering on a stupid smile while inwardly I’m screaming for help.
“How are they doing?” he asks, sounding absolutely bored.
“Good. I mean, bad. But as good as they can be, under the circumstances.”
“I’m sure it must be hard.” His eyes narrow. “Why don’t I give you a ride?”
“Uh—” I look around. Nobody’s nearby. We’re in the middle of a street, but it’s all businesses and shade trees. “No, I’m okay, really.”
“I insist. Get in the car, Fiona. I mean, Mrs. Kane.”
The door shoves open and Liam moves over to give me room.
I hesitate, staring inside. There’s a driver, a big guy with dark sunglasses, but hell, he’s probably in their crime family too. That guy wouldn’t care if Liam strangled me to death in front of him. If I get in that car, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever come back out again.
But how can I deny him without seeming rude? Without looking shady?
“Okay, uh, thank you very much.” I slip inside and close the door. “I was headed back to the office to see Gareth.”
“Good. I was thinking I’d drop by as well.”
He doesn’t look at me as the driver pulls out into traffic.
Chapter 11
Gareth
I try to do some work. I force myself to concentrate for an hour, but every time I find myself getting into a groove, she pops back into my head.
Fiona. My assistant.
I didn’t think much of her when the recruiter, a woman named Janine I met in college, brought her to me. “She’s smart and really needs a gig, but she’s young. Will that be an issue?”
I didn’t think so at the time. The interviews went well, Fiona was poised and intelligent, and I really needed a new assistant. I couldn’t keep scaring them away by being too demanding.