Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Morning comes far too soon with Abbie curled to my side but duty calls, as in Dexter, who is whining beside the bed. I sneak out of bed and Abbie snuggles into the pillow deeper, still asleep. To me, this is about comfort and trust and it matters. It matters a whole hell of a lot especially under the circumstances she’s living right now and has lived in the past.
I sneak into the bathroom, throw on sweats and a tee, and quickly brush my teeth. Dexter waits impatiently and the two of us head downstairs. We’ve barely made it to his pee spot at the corner when I’m accosted by damn reporters. Apparently, the news of Kenneth’s murder has led back to my doorstep. I keep my head down and dodge questions while Dexter does his best serial killer impression for one particularly rude man. That’s my cue to pick up the pace. I run Dexter down a side street and escape. New dog parent problem. I’m going to have to hire a dog nanny just to avoid the press.
Once we’re back at our building where we repeat the hell of being accosted again, but escape quickly with the help of the building staff. Dexter and I tip well with cash and doggy kisses, and we head upstairs. Once we’re there, I feed him, and while he eats, I make coffee and intend to wake up Abbie when Blake calls.
“I’m in hell over here, man,” I say when I answer. “I can’t even take my dog out to pee because of the press.”
“Considering the new developments in the case, that’s expected, don’t you think?”
A bad feeling rushes through me. “What developments?”
My cellphone buzzes with another call. “That’ll be Reese.” Blake says. “He wants to meet you as soon as possible.”
“What the hell is going on, Blake?”
“They have footage of the killer leaving Kenneth’s house.”
I stand taller. “And?”
He hits me with the bombshell details, hard and fast. I listen and remotely remember a promise to call Reese back and something about more security. We disconnect and I’m still shell-shocked, trying to process what I just heard when Abbie walks into the room, looking sexy as hell in a silk robe, her hair a mussed-up mess, her face clean, a smile on her lips. “Good morning.”
Only it’s not. It’s really not. I now have to tell her what Blake just told me.
Chapter seventy-one
Gabe
Gabe
Abbie gives me one long look and her smile fades. “What’s wrong?” She hurries forward and stops on the other side of the island with Dexter making some crazy chirping sound at her side.
She’s worried, really worried, but she manages to look at Dexter, cup his face and whisper, “I love you, too, boy,” because apparently, dog chirping means “I love you.” Who knew?
She continues to rub him and looks at me. “What’s wrong?” she repeats. “Tell me before I go nuts here.”
I offer her the cup of coffee I made for her. “I was just bringing you a coffee in bed. You ruined the surprise.”
“Gabe,” she warns. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. I know you well enough at this point to read you.”
A profoundly impossible statement that she’s made possible. I set the cup down. “Let’s go sit down.”
“No. Let’s not go sit down. Tell me now.”
My cellphone rings and I glance at it where it rests on the island to find Reese on the caller ID again. “What does he know that I don’t?” Abbie asks.
“I need to take this, baby. Give me a minute and—”
She pushes off the island and walks toward the window, which is a win, considering a few days ago she would have run for her clothes and the door. Progress, it seems, is the bright side of this morning gone wrong. She kneels to love on Dexter, letting him comfort her, and I swear my cold heart warms.
I answer the call. “Reese.”
“You heard?”
“Yes.”
“And that one-word reply tells me that Abbie is there and doesn’t know yet.”
“No. She doesn’t.”
“Why?” Reese presses. “She needs to know.”
“I’ve known about ten minutes, man. I need at least ten minutes and thirty seconds.”
“We should meet sooner than planned. Let’s have coffee. It might calm Abbie enough for her to really talk to me.”
“We have the press all over us.”
“You’re resourceful. Meet me at the coffee shop on 15th. No one will be looking for us there.”
“That’s not secure enough. We’ll stick to the plan. Your office.”
“We’re swarming with press.”
“But not press intended for us and it’s secure there. We need secure.”
“Right. Have it your way. I’ll send Walker to get you. I’m about to get on the phone with Abbie’s mother.”
“Does she know?”
“Not yet. That’s why I’m about to get on the phone with her. More soon.”
“When do you want us?” I ask.
“I have ten piles of disaster growing in my office. The sooner the better.”