Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“Yes, Coach,” Laila said, and ushered Jean up the stairs ahead of her.
Jean got the door unlocked and went inside, but he stood off to one side until the other three were in. As soon as the door was closed, Jean put the deadbolt and chain into place. Every passing second made Lucas’s reassurances less comforting, and Jean gave the chain a nervous tug. If Grayson found him, would this be enough? Doors had never stopped him before. Granted, the last one had been left open for him. Memories put a feverish heat in Jean’s chest, and he gave the chain another hard yank.
“I have something for that,” Laila said. “Wait here.”
Jean listened to her rummage around in her room for a few minutes. She came back with a squat pole. One end had a flat rubber base, and the other had a shallow hook. She motioned him out of the way and pushed it into place under the knob. One last kick at the bottom got it as tight as it could go, and Laila gave a satisfied nod.
“My mother bought it for me when I first moved out of the house,” she said. “It has never failed me, and people have tried more than once. Okay?”
It wasn’t, but it would have to be. “Yes.”
“Can we talk?” Jeremy asked.
“I have to change and call Dobson,” Jean said, and Jeremy reluctantly got out of his way.
Jean went straight to his bedroom and chucked his wet clothes into his laundry basket. He traded his workout outfit for more casual clothes and sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed to stare down at his bandages. He didn’t want to see the bites, but after a moment he reached up and peeled the tape and gauze free. His hand was bruising in a ring around it from the force of Grayson’s teeth, and Jean felt his stomach lurch in response.
For one fleeting, foolish moment he considered calling Dobson after all. She’d been Andrew’s therapist when Riko sent Drake after him. What had she told him afterward, and had it made any difference? Was false comfort better than no comfort at all? Jean turned his phone over and over in his hands, warring with himself.
In the end revulsion won. There was no way he would expose himself like this to her. Just thinking of putting it into words made him dizzy. He moved to throw his phone out of reach when it hummed in his hand, and in his surprise he almost dropped it.
The area code was familiar, but the number was not. Jean only had a dozen-odd contacts saved in his phone, and half shared the same South Carolina prefix. Jean’s first angry thought was Rhemann had called Dobson, not trusting Jean to follow through on his promise to get help, but Jean had her information saved and this message came up with no name attached. Jean drummed his fingernails on the keys for a few agitated seconds before opening the text.
The message was in French: “Where are you?”
Not Kevin’s number, which left only one suspect. Jean still sent back a “Who” to be sure.
“Neil,” was the quick response, and then, “I am in Los Angeles. We have to talk.”
Jean looked at the clock on his phone, and dread was a heavy weight settling in Jean’s bones. He knew the Foxes had already started summer practices, and he knew how long the flight here from South Carolina was. If Neil had skipped out on practice to make this trip, he was not coming with good news. Jean pinched the bridge of his nose and decided he absolutely hated twenty-four-hour days. Surely there was a limit to how many things could go wrong in a single day.
He sent his address back in response. Then, since he didn’t feel like getting up yet, messaged Jeremy a simple “Visitor.”
He assumed Jeremy checked out front before he came to the bedroom, because he was wearing a small frown when he pushed the door open. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Neil Josten is in town,” Jean said, checking Neil’s response. “He is on the way from the airport in a rental car.”
“Do you want to see him?” Jeremy asked as he sat at the foot of Jean’s bed. “I have no problems telling him he has to wait until tomorrow. We can put him in a hotel for the night or something."
“He would not come see me if he had any choice in the matter,” Jean said. “I have to meet with him.”
Whether or not Jean would survive the meeting was another story, but there was no reason to get into that with Jeremy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jean
Jean was sitting on the ledge of the bay window when a car pulled up outside. Neil had sent him the make and color of his rental, but Jean still tensed a little at the sight of it. He waited until he saw Neil get out on the driver’s side before nodding an okay to Jeremy, and his captain went ahead to undo the locks at the front door. Jean caught up to him as he was setting the bar to one side, and Jeremy opened the door right as Neil knocked.