Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Uh-huh. Tap the phone twice if you’re being held hostage. Should I alert the board to call the crisis negotiator?”
“Fennelly…”
“Yep, okay. Good talk, bye.”
“You’re a prick, you know.” From the couch, RJ regards me with disappointment.
I’m used to it by now.
“Yeah, I know.”
He goes back to playing his video game while I lie in bed failing to turn off my brain and find a moment’s peace. Sloane thinks it’s been my mission to corrupt Casey and turn her into another angry, jaded fuck like the rest of us. But that’s the last thing I want. Yes, I’m glad she stood up to her bullies, but Sloane’s right. It isn’t like her to be loud and confrontational. It represents a worrying shift in her personality that’s entirely my fault.
The idea that Casey is suffering is killing me. I’m certain I could fix this if I could just talk to her. Except she won’t answer the phone, and I’m sure Sloane has threatened everyone we know with painful mutilation if they help me.
By lights out, my head’s in knots. So tangled up, I’m not thinking straight. Later, after the halls have gone quiet and RJ starts snoring, I peel out of bed and get dressed.
If Casey won’t take my calls, I have to make her see me.
CHAPTER 16
CASEY
I’M STRUCK WITH IRRATIONAL ANGER WHEN AN INTERMITTENT and indistinct tapping noise penetrates my subconscious, jolting me out of a dream that recedes from memory even before I’ve left it. I had an accent, I think. Something very posh and British. Makes sense I was exploring an interpretation of an Agatha Christie mystery after spending all night binging an old black-and-white miniseries.
So it’s with thoughts of murder and betrayal I wake.
Blinking against the blurry darkness of my room, I glance toward the window and the sound of a single sharp tap against the glass. I already know I won’t need it, but as I get out of bed, I reach underneath to grab Sloane’s old softball bat because I like the idea of holding it.
Out on the lawn beyond the shrubs and the barrier of the motion-sensor flood lights, I spot a hooded Fenn standing with his phone in his hand.
On my nightstand, my phone lights up. I let it ring a while, considering what he could possibly say I’d want to hear. Or how he might manage to whittle away at my resolve. Because I’m still quite content being pissed at him. Forever, if I can help it.
The screen goes dark.
I could do it. Stand in the shadows until he’s exhausted his fortitude and goes home convinced that I’m well outside his reach and always will be now.
Then it lights again, buzzing, rumbling on the bedside table. Until my curiosity compels me to pick it up.
“What?” I say coldly.
“I have to see you. Please, Casey.”
The familiar sound of his voice, deep and husky, makes my heart squeeze with pain. I used to love hearing that voice slide into my ear. Now it just brings the sting of tears.
“If I wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t leave my phone off all day.”
“You could have blocked me. But you didn’t.”
“I still can.”
“I’m coming up,” he says.
I go to the window to see him disappear into the shadows. By now, Fenn knows how to maneuver around the sightlines of Dad’s motion sensors, finding the blind spots on the periphery.
“Don’t,” I warn softly. “I’m locking the window.”
“No, you’re not.”
Asshole. I don’t know which part is more annoying—that he’s so sure of himself, or that he’s right.
“If my dad catches you—”
“So don’t let him.”
Damn it.
I throw open the window just before Fenn hauls himself up and hops inside. He lands gently and pauses to listen for any indication he’s woken the house. He’s lucky the dogs are the least alert creatures on the planet. Fifteen cat burglars could crash through the ceiling on those SWAT team ropes, and Bo and Penny wouldn’t bat an eye. Bo would go back to chewing on his bone while Penny rolled over in her plush dog bed.
“You’re an idiot,” I grumble.
Satisfied he’s remained undetected, he stands and levels me with an intense stare that makes me take a step back. Sometimes I forget how intimidating he can be. Six feet tall, muscular. With his dark hood covering his blond hair, he gives off a dangerous vibe. But I’m not scared of him. I never have been. He might be bigger and stronger than I am, but I know without a doubt that I can bring him to his knees with one sharp word.
“What part of go to hell and stay there didn’t you understand?”
“What’s this I hear about you going off on those chicks at school?” he responds, ignoring me.
I frown. “What? How’d you hear about that?”
“Sloane.”
Okay, wow. I guess I can’t even count on my sister to keep her dumb mouth shut. I thought it was obvious the Fenn embargo applied to her as well.