Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I caught a glimpse of him shrugging on his jacket, texting something on his phone, then grabbing the leashes for the girls.
Who was he texting?
A girl, maybe?
Why did I care? That was the bigger question.
Breakfast was fast and tense before we both set to cleaning up the room, walking the dogs, then getting on the road.
Gone, it seemed, was that lighthearted fun that had been a big part of the journey the day before. Or maybe Sway was just responding to my mood.
Then, finally, we were pulling down my street. The warmth flooded the car, seeped into my skin, down to my bones, chasing away the chill that had been plaguing me for weeks.
I cracked my window, smelling the ocean, then seeing it at a distance as I pulled my car around the back of the building, parking in a private spot I paid an astronomical fee to use each month. Because I wanted to be able to escape out the back when someone was coming in the front. That foresight had probably saved my life a few weeks ago.
I said nothing to Sway’s curious gaze as we grabbed the dogs and made our way up the narrow alley toward the front of the building.
“What?” I asked after unlocking my door, hoping my hands were as steady as I wanted them to be, praying that the anxiety I felt coursing through me was not written all over my face.
“Nothing. Just curious about what your place is like,” he said with a shrug.
Great.
Another thing to worry about.
Because I’d never given a single thought to my condo before.
I’d never had a man in my home before.
Well, never one that I’d allowed in, anyway…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sway
She was cold as fuck all day.
I wasn’t sure what had happened between her being all soft and sweet in the bed to when I got back with breakfast, but she had put a shield up, locked herself back away.
And the woman never showed much to begin with, so when she decided to shut down, there was no getting anything out of her.
I didn’t even try.
I figured she was someone used to being alone, and that pushing her was only going to make her reinforce that shield.
She hadn’t been lying about being close to the beach.
The building she had her condo in literally had the beach gracing one whole side of it.
It was a small building, just four floors of two or three apartments or condos on each. Except for the top floor, where Murphy’s apartment was situated. She had the whole floor to herself. Given the neighborhood and the proximity to the beach, there was no way she got the place for less than a mill and a half.
How the fuck many guns had she built or modified to get a place like that?
The staircase led up to a small foyer with her apartment door.
Perched in two corners of the foyer were cameras staring down at us as Murphy pulled out a key and unlocked the door. There was a security pad next to the door, but she didn’t touch it, so I figured it wasn’t engaged.
Had she left in that big of a rush?
What the hell would spook her that much?
Or, rather, who?
But then the door was opening, and my curiosity about how she lived won out over my questions about her security and who she might have been on the run from.
I expected… I don’t know. Something not overly decorated. Definitely not something that felt like a magazine.
And that was about what I got.
Everything seemed to be original to the condo, albeit new and seemingly top-of-the-line. From the marble countertops and the tall white cabinets in the kitchen, the click-lock floor in a light wood color, the white walls and trim.
Though, obviously, there were things she must have purchased. Like the small L-shaped sectional with a chaise at one end in a camel color, the same color of the oversized orthopedic dog beds situated under the wall-mounted TV. There was a small cabinet behind the door where she had harnesses and little garbage bags and a bag of dog treats.
There was no dining or kitchen table. Which led me to picturing her eating her meals curled up on the couch, or maybe at her desk which must have been in the primary or extra bedroom, because there was nothing in the common area that looked like it had anything to do with her work.
The whole place was neat. In the way that houses that didn’t have a lot of stuff or decor were neat. There wasn’t a lot to clean, so it was easy to keep it looking that way.
Free of their leashes, Miranda and Samantha rushed into their home, noses to the ground, sniffing every square inch of the place as their mom took a deep breath and exhaled it hard.