Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
The back stairway is thankfully empty. Cops have better things to do than walk up several dozen flights of stairs when the elevator to the top works just fine.
In my haste, I stumble and nearly fall more than once. Heels, speed, and stairs don’t mix, and I’m panting like I ran a marathon and my shoes are ruined by the time I make it to the lobby of my building. Genaro looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t have the ability to care about my looks right now. The sympathy in his eyes as he looks in my direction while holding the front door to the building open, however, does make me pause. Does he know more than I do about what happened to Dani? He might since he would have had to direct the police to her condo when they arrived.
“Ms. Grimaldi?” Genaro holds out his time-worn hand, but I know if I take it, I’ll just break down. He doesn’t look insulted when I look away to gain some control.
The sight of his hand makes me realize I’ve left everything in my condo except for my phone. At least with that, I can pay for a cab. Thankfully, there’s always one idling nearby, and Genaro flags it down, holding the door open for me until I slide inside. I’m trembling from top to bottom, but the tired cabbie doesn’t seem to care, and for that I’m grateful. There’s nothing worse than having to talk to a stranger out of common courtesy.
I realize I sound like a complete asshole in my head, but I just give the driver the address to Deacon’s office and press my back to the seat, keeping my eyes on my building until it fades from sight. I don’t realize until I shift in my seat just how bad my feet are. Blisters line the back of my heels from my shoes rubbing them running down the stairs.
My hiss of pain draws the cabbie’s eye to the rearview mirror, but he still remains quiet. Kicking off my shoes, I gather them from the floor knowing I’m going to have to find a trashcan to dump them in. I hold them in my lap like a lifeline, toying with the delicate straps to try to keep my fingers from shaking, but it doesn’t help.
I have no idea what Deacon can do to help, but not being alone right now would at least calm me a little.
The sight of the high rise as the cab driver slows in front of the tall building shocks me. This isn’t some rinky dink office. This isn’t a small travel trailer housing the office of a lawn care service or a struggling mechanic’s office—both things I considered I’d be facing once I let myself think about it. This is upscale and expensive. Two things I would never attach to a man like Deacon Black.
The cabbie sighs for wasting his time, and I quickly pay, having made the entire trip without speaking other than to provide the address. I climb out of the cab, still unsure if I’m in the right place, but the doorman assures me I’m correct, and lazily points in the direction of the elevator.
Chapter 3
Deacon
The drive back to the office was spent with my fingers tapping on the steering wheel in frustration, irritated that only idiots seem to be occupying the roads at this time of night. Then, I realize that whatever shitshow I’m about to face is more the cause than anything because the irritation doesn’t drain away as it normally does when I take the private elevator up to the Blackbridge Security office.
Of course a couple of the guys are here just hanging out. Some never seem to go home, even after a long day of work.
Jude Morris, my medic and biological science engineer, is frowning down at a length of rope as he tries to perform some ridiculous knot.
Ignacio Torres, the team’s translator, is reading a book, the title in a language so unfamiliar I can’t decipher.
Brooks Morgan, the best covert ops guy I know, is staring into his phone, no doubt taking selfies like always.
“Boss man!” Jude snaps. He’s the first one to see me walk in the room. “Queso!”
“It’s qué pasa, you idiot,” Ignacio mutters without even looking up from his book.
When I don’t tell him he’s stupid, like I normally would, it draws the eyes of all three guys in the room. Jude drops the rope, Ignacio lowers the book, and miracle of all miracles, Brooks slides his phone back into his pocket.
It’s then that I realize I need to check my face. These guys have been with me for a while, and I don’t know that I’ve ever had such a quick response from them all at the same time outside of working a serious job.