Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Could have fooled me.”
I throw my car into park in front of the run-down apartment building. Stacks of water-stained crates sit adjacent to the front stoop. A rust-pitted dumpster is located only a few feet away.
This place should be condemned.
I transfer the call from my Bluetooth back to my phone and step out of the car. “It’s a shithole.”
“Yeah?”
“It should be boarded up. Actually…” I gaze up at a window on the second floor. The one missing a glass pane. A broken plank of wood slices across the cavity, nailed to each side. “Already is.”
“She a junkie?”
She has to be. Otherwise, why would anyone choose to live here?
“Don’t I pay you to know this information?” I sidestep a muddy plastic bag the wind sweeps into my path. “Which apartment is it?”
The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I stalk down the sidewalk, headed toward the entrance. There are more holes than there is pavement.
Wow, Roman. You really were a piece of shit. So much for that sudden burst of concern for her safety. I almost believed it.
Tony’s fingers clatter across his keyboard. “From the schematics I have, it’s on the side. First floor. Her apartment is right off the fire escape.”
I locate the exact one according to the dipshit’s description. Although it’s off the ground, it’s still only one flight up. Mold climbs the exterior, flush against her oversized window. It offers a clear view inside—and no protection whatsoever against a half-decent burglar.
What the hell was Roman thinking, letting his sister live here?
I knead my temple to stave off the brewing headache. “Do you have any other information on her?”
At this point, it makes more sense to hop in my car, head back to Jersey, and chalk up the broken promise to my lack of morals. Wouldn’t be the first time anyone accused me of being an ass.
“It’s like she’s just…existing. Taking up space.” Tony tsks. “The girl has no life. No friends. No education. No social media. No current extracurriculars on file. I’ve seen Witness Protection files more colorful than this. There’s nothing of any real importance.”
“I don’t care how important you think it is.” I grit my teeth, the words seething past them. “I want to know everything.”
If there is, in fact, anything to know. Judging from her life resume, she sounds like a waste of oxygen. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Sensing my obvious irritation, Tony types faster, slapping his fingers against the keys. “She keeps to herself. Not a lot of information on the web about her.” A few more clicks. He clucks his tongue. That better mean he landed something worth hearing, or the consequences won’t bode well for his life expectancy. “She works part-time at a local diner.”
“That’s it?” The headache is a full-blown issue now.
“Pretty much.”
I don’t have time for this shit. “Do you at least have the diner’s name?”
“Mel’s.”
“Which Mel’s? There are several in the tristate area, for fuck’s sake.”
The urge to send him straight to the unemployment line grips me, but there are more pressing issues at hand. Like the fact that I care about these mundane details.
Fucking Roman.
How did I get myself into this mess? The dick pisses me off more in death than in life. And that’s saying something. Yet, here I am, lurking in a filthy alley in hopes of catching a glimpse of the mystery girl.
Fuck this.
Roman’s dead.
I owe him jack shit.
No reason for me to keep the promise I made to him. Not when I’m learning he kept half his life hidden from me.
I pivot to leave when I spot her through the window. Thick blonde locks cascade past her shoulders. She pushes them aside, reaching up to open the panes. Her petite body shrugs past the frame, slipping onto the fire escape. It creaks beneath her slight weight, more suited for a landfill than the stunning creature it holds.
And she is stunning.
And gorgeous, striking, magnificent—all unfortunate things I shouldn’t be thinking. It occurs to me that I’ve stepped closer without realizing it, unhappy with my distance. Too far to make out the exquisite details of Sasha Lennox.
The dumpster conceals my presence. It’s a new low—stalking a stranger amidst rotten McDonald’s, expired milk cartons, and soiled diapers. Apparently not low enough for me to stop.
I advance, edging close enough to enjoy an unimpeded view but far enough that she can’t see me.
The perfect voyeur.
What’s she doing out here anyway?
And you care…why?
Her legs dangle off the escape as she sits, lowering her head to her hands.
Is she crying? Did she hear about her brother?
Nope. That’s impossible. Roman’s body is barely cold. The cops haven’t even found it, and they won’t. Not until I decide it’s time.
My curiosity should concern me, but I’m too preoccupied with the view. The evening sun strikes down on her blonde locks, illuminating the little I see of her face. A halo of light reflects off the building, hovering above her head. She looks ethereal from this angle.