Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Kyra chirps as I take a few steps out of the closet. I’m careful not to disturb the floorboards as I start around the bed, on the side opposite my phone, then crawl over the mattress to keep out of view from the doorway.
My phone’s almost within reach. If I could only snatch it, I might get out of this.
Go, go, go!
I grab it off the nightstand, and as I turn to the doorway, I see Zane at the other end of the hall, that intense gaze on me.
I’m. A. Dead. Man.
He starts for me, his jaw tensing, and I sprint into action, racing for the door. My towel drops, and I let it fall as I manage to get to the door just in time to slam it shut and turn the lock.
Thank fuck.
As I start to dial, my hands are shaking so much, I figure I might drop the phone.
9-1-
“Hey! You! Upstairs!” a booming voice echoes through the house. “Sir, I need you to put your hands where I can see them!”
The voice has an authoritative ring to it. A cop? Is this some kind of miracle? Oh fuck, please be a miracle.
“Hey, hey, it’s all good. Calm down.” That must be Zane.
“Hands where we can see them, and drop to the floor,” the officer commands, her voice booming as she directs Zane where to place his hands and asks him about weapons.
I’m about to call out that I’m up here and he’s got a gun when Zane says, “There’s someone else up here in a bedroom.”
“Anyone else, come out where we can see you!”
You’re safe, I tell myself. I grab my towel off the floor and wrap it around my waist, heading out the door.
Warn them about the fucking gun! is my first thought, but I’ve seen the goddamn news. What if they start shooting indiscriminately and I get caught in the line of fire?
But I notice Zane’s on the floor, his hands spread out, though I don’t see his gun on him. What did he do with it?
Keeping my hands up—since I don’t want to have survived him only to get shot by a cop—I head into the hall.
Zane’s a few feet from me, the two officers downstairs, both with their guns out.
“He fucking lives here,” Zane says.
“Kid, you have ID?” one of the officers asks, and I nod.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get down like your friend there, and tell us where it is.”
Friend?
I’m in shock as I get into the same position as my attacker.
The first officer sends up the guy with her to retrieve my driver’s license from my bedroom, and once they’ve checked it, they let me stand up.
“Someone reported a break-in,” she says, “and the front door was open when we got here.”
“That was me,” Zane says. “I’m the one who called you. You can check my phone in my back pocket.”
He called the cops? Another weird-ass part of this that’s not making any sense.
But one of the cops checks his ID and phone, turning to the other. “He’s telling the truth. Zane Grayson. This is you?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“This your friend, Leif?” the female officer asks.
“Yes,” Zane says.
“I didn’t ask you. Kid, is Zane your friend?”
Zane closes his eyes, like he knows he’s gonna be in deep shit for what he’s just done.
“Is this your friend?” she asks again.
“No.”
He hits his forehead on the floor.
But my mind’s still spinning.
Yes, he had a gun and he grabbed me, but he didn’t hurt me.
And he told me he was going to look for someone.
And now I find out he called the cops?
He looks at me, that determined expression gone. His eyes are wide, desperate, pleading.
He lied about being my friend. For some reason, he doesn’t want me to tell them the truth. Maybe because it’ll get him in trouble. Now that my senses are coming back to me, it’s clear this wasn’t what I thought initially, but it’s still confusing as fuck. If someone else was here and he was trying to help, what if turning him in might get him in trouble?
Then again, what if I’m not in the right frame of mind from the trauma of everything that just happened?
This is a shit idea. I know it to my core.
Whatever the reason, I say, “Sorry, he’s not a friend, but someone I know.”
The cop’s brow creases. “You kidding me right now?”
“Sorry. I was nervous. This was a shock to me. I’ve never been around cops with guns out before.”
I notice Zane’s only a foot away from the hall console. A gun could fit under there.
“Okay, kids,” she says before introducing herself as Kendrick and her partner as Diaz. “I’d appreciate if one of you could explain to me what’s going on.”
Zane rises to his feet. “We were hanging out, and someone came in from the back door. I called the cops because Leif was taking a shower—”