Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I call down to have my car brought to the front by the valet before shrugging on my coat and making sure I look presentable in the mirror hanging by the door.
The elevator ride happens with no interruptions, although a part of me wishes that arm of his would slide through the crack right before it closed like it did last night. I dart my eyes around the lobby, but other than the smiling staff behind the counter, it's empty.
I hand the valet a twenty as he gives me my keys and wishes me a good day. Normally, I'd tell him I'm just out for a ride or where I plan to go, but after not knowing what happened with Sadie and Eddie finding the three listening and tracking devices in my belongings, I'm finding that sharing personal information, especially about my whereabouts, isn't such a good idea. I know there's a very good chance the young man who brought my car up doesn't need information from me to stage an abduction or anything, but I know I need to be more cautious in public.
I feel a sense of dread, wondering if my car has a tracker on it, as I drive away from the hotel. It wouldn't be hard for anyone to put one on it at any given time. Is that how Eddie knew I was at the hotel? But that doesn't make sense because he was waiting for me when I arrived, proving that he had a means of knowing where I was and when.
At the first stop light I pull up to, I grab my phone from the charging pad on the console with every intent on calling him and demanding to know how he tracked me, but I remember he's supposed to be working on Sadie's case, and I'm only a waste of time. His words, not mine.
As if my subconscious had the college in mind, my car finds its way there without me giving it much thought. DC isn't a strange place for me. I've been here more times than I can count in my lifetime because of my father's political career. The town is always bustling with people and groups of kids on field trips taking in the plethora of American history, and today is no different.
Rather than stopping me and asking what my intentions are at the gate, the guard lifts the security arm and waves me through. I don't even have to slow down much.
Before, I'd give him a little wave, with a thank you on my lips, but today is different.
After the insanely awkward time at Daydreamer's and Eddie explaining that although that place is illegal, there are worse places some people get taken against their will, I'm coming to realize that the safety nets put in place for so many places can be bypassed easily.
I doubt that if I weren't driving such an expensive car, the guard might've stopped me, and that discrimination has to be something that the people out here with ill intent would know. The bias in thinking that bad guys drive beaters or that they're poor is ridiculous. After leaving Daydreamer's Spa, I researched the sex industry in America, both legal and illegal, and I was floored by how much money is in the business. It's definitely high enough that a person planning on abducting college students could roll up to that gate in an expensive car.
I stop my car halfway through the gate, looking behind me to make sure the coast is clear, before putting it in reverse and lining my driver's side door up with the door to the guard booth.
"Is there trouble, miss?" he asks as he steps outside.
"I don't have a sticker."
"You don't need one," he says, pointing inside the campus. "We have visitor's parking just over there."
"So just anyone has access to the campus?"
He shakes his head. "No, ma'am. You're safe here."
I'm safe, according to him because people with money aren't criminals.
I know this man is just doing what he's been told to do. I can only imagine the complaints he'd get from others if they were stopped at the gate and grilled about their intentions. DC University is a private school, and I know from William attending this school just how expensive an education is here. The parents of students aren't exactly the type of people who have their intentions examined very often, and I can only imagine their reaction if a security guard asked them questions.
I have no doubt this man's first day on the job looks anything like his days do now. One complaint from the right person could leave him unemployed. I also know that if something happened to one of the precious, well-connected students inside, his head would be the first to roll.
"Thank you, Pete," I say after a quick look at his name badge.