Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
"I know I am supposed to go home and act like nothing happened. But what about as you guys make progress? Am I just in the dark from now on? Should I not be seen with any of you?"
Those were good questions, proving that she was managing to keep her head on straight despite all the insanity.
I reached into my desk, pulling out a burner phone, jotting down the number, then passing it to her along with a phone card. "You'll take this home, set it up, put the minutes on it. Then keep it on and charged. If we need to contact you, that is how we will do it. When this is all over, that will be put in a plain brown sandwich bag near your front door, and someone will pick it up to destroy it."
"You are meticulous," she said, sounding relieved. "So you will keep me updated?"
"As information becomes important to share."
As a rule, it wouldn't.
The less the client knew, the better.
But I wanted her to have that comfort. It seemed like she needed it. And she had been through enough for one day. I would let her keep her hope.
"So this is it?" she asked, sounding completely deflated about having to go back to her life. A life that would never exactly feel the same.
"For now, yes," I agreed. "We will wrangle your mutt, and head back to your place in a few."
She nodded, though couldn't keep eye-contact.
And as much as I would have offered her the room above for as long as she needed, she was not lucky enough to be the kind of client that could do that, escape their lives for a while. She needed to carry on. As hard as that might be at times.
So fifteen minutes later, Mackey was in the backseat, content since Lincoln had slipped him some pieces of boneless spare ribs, and Aven was beside me in the passenger seat.
"What is that smell?" she asked, nose wrinkling up.
"Oh, Finn cleaned the car. He uses some potent shit sometimes."
"He must be exhausted," she observed as I turned onto the street out front of my building. "He did so much today."
"He did," I agreed. "But that is Finn. He doesn't get jobs every day. Or even every week. He gets long breaks to recharge. But when he is on a job, he is on it. Nothing gets past him."
I had no idea why I was telling her any of this. It really wasn't shit she needed to know. It just seemed like she needed noise, like the silence would undo her.
"That's good to hear," she observed, tensing as we turned into her street, my headlights landing on her house.
It looked no different.
I knew that was what she was thinking.
Considering everything, it should look different.
But it was the same old house.
Except, as she would find in a second as we walked up the path, it was a lot fucking cleaner than she even knew was possible.
I shouldn't step foot over the threshold.
I couldn't step foot into the entry and ruin the clean inside.
It wasn't even an option.
It would never have even occurred to me before.
But with Aven next to me, hesitating stepping into her own home, knowing what ghosts she would find there, I had the almost overwhelming urge to lead her in, to show her around, to assure her that nothing was going to happen to her anymore.
I simply couldn't do that.
I had to be professional.
That was the job.
"Aven," I said, my hand reaching down to curl over hers that was clutching her burner cell like a lifeline. Her head jerked over at me, her eyes practically jumping with how fast her brain was spinning. "Everything is handled. You are safe. I know this feels awful right now, but I am just going to need you to nut-up and handle it. It sucks. But you can do it." She didn't look quite so convinced. "Tell me you can do it."
She took a deep breath, and in doing so, her shoulders moved back, her chin lifted a little. Determination looked good on her. "I can do it," she told me in a sure voice, reaching for my other hand where Mackey's leash was.
"Good. I will let you know if we have any information."
She nodded a bit at that, but looked like she maybe didn't quite believe me this time.
Smart girl.
"Thank you, Quin."
That sounded a fuckuva lot like goodbye to me.
And it was, in a way.
She turned, flicked on her light, and moved inside, sliding the locks into place, then flicking on her external lights as well. If I knew anything about women in this situation, and I did, she would put every fucking light in the house on. Push back the shower curtains, check the closets, then likely lock herself in the bathroom, using the tub as a bed, hugging a bat like a lover.