Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I pressed play again, more interested in the rest of the interview than talking about what Elliette did and didn’t know.
Detective Zimmerman continued to ask his questions, and Elliette continued to bald-faced lie to the investigator.
Once the interview was over and the phone went black, I said, “Did you watch the bodycam footage?”
His stomach tensed hard. “Yeah.”
“And what did you think of it?” I asked.
“I think that if I ever have to watch something like that again, I might very well die,” he admitted. “You may not feel pain, baby, but I felt enough watching that to last twenty lifetimes.”
Just thinking about watching the same thing happen to him that happened to me sent shivers down my spine.
No, I may not feel actual pain, but mental pain was thriving well and good inside of me.
“No,” I agreed. “I don’t think I’d like that very much at all, either.”
I may be a handful, but so are my tits. And I think that cancels it out.
—Ande to Shayne
QUINN
“Where are we going?” Shayne asked the next morning.
I pulled up outside the bakery that was on the way to her job—which she agreed to go back to late last night with a text to Silas Mackenzie—and flashed her a grin. “Sustenance for a long day.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a six-hour shift.”
“It’s still six more hours than you’ve worked in the last month after getting assaulted,” I pointed out as I closed my door then moved around to hers. “Plus, it’s my day to bring donuts to the office.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Okay, that’s a lie,” I admitted as she got out and headed into the shop with me. “I owe the team some donuts because I might or might not have acted like an asshole over the last month.”
She snickered. “You can be that sometimes, Quinn.”
I knew I could.
It came with the job.
It was so fuckin’ stressful sometimes.
“Thanks,” I tugged a stray lock of hair framing her face. “What do you want?”
She looked at the plethora of baked goods in front of her and said, “I don’t think I can ever come into Pie Hard and not ask for multiple things.”
“Then get multiple things,” I suggested. “And get extras so you can take some to my sister. Because if you don’t, she’ll just get all bent out of shape about it, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Ahh, one of my best clients,” the owner of Pie Hard, Maven Brumfield, said. “How is she? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Busy AF,” Shayne answered for me. “She’s currently working at Angel Flight and the circus because there was an issue at the circus a few days ago with staff scheduling.”
“Bummer,” Maven said as she looked from Shayne to me. “How’s your brother doing?”
My brows rose. “Which one?”
“Auden,” she answered. “He came in last week and looked pretty messed up about something.”
I thought back to last week, and winced. “He, ah, didn’t say he had any issues. I guess I need to check on him.”
“That’s my fault,” Shayne admitted. “Your mind’s been solely focused on me and my crap, and not on your brothers like it usually would.”
“He said something about a work issue.” Maven looked truly concerned, and I looked at her with a different lens.
“You like my brother, don’t you?” I asked.
Maven’s mouth fell open, and her cheeks went red. “Absolutely not. I don’t do police officers.”
My brows rose. “Why?”
“Because her dad’s a dick,” Shayne answered. “And from what little I’ve heard about him, he’s a police officer himself, and likes to control every single thing Maven does. To the point that he’s had the city in here trying to shut her down since she opened.”
Maven sighed. “He tried it again yesterday.”
Another customer came in, and I started to point out everything I wanted, leaving us with four huge bakery boxes full of shit.
“Jesus,” a woman grumbled. “Save some for the rest of us!”
I chuckled as we walked out, then waited for Shayne to catch the door to the back seat of the truck before placing our spoils on the floorboard.
It was when I was closing the door that I saw a person hiding in the bushes.
With a gun.
I reacted on instinct, launching myself forward and tackling the man to the ground. The gun came up, now aimed at my body, and muscle memory kicked in.
I executed one punch to the face, and the person went limp underneath me.
The person in black and yellow, with a black ski mask covering his face.
“Goddammit,” I grumbled darkly.
Standing up, I peered over my shoulder to check on Shayne, who was looking on with wide eyes. “You moved fast.”
“Fuckin’ gangs.” I looked around. “Do you see anyone else?”
She did the same, shaking her head. “No.”
I looked back to the person, bent down to pick the rifle up he was going to use to shoot me, then yanked his face mask off while I was at it.