Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“What?” he asked, suddenly serious.
“Gunshots, Sion. Then the camera feed cut out. I need her address to check on her.”
“I don’t—“
I got it. I really did. Her privacy was vitally important. He couldn’t give it out to just anyone.
“I would never ask if it wasn’t fucking possibly life or death,” I cut him off. “You know me. You know that. But if she’s in some sort of danger…”
“I…” he said, still sounding tense, his mind probably spinning with the potential for a massive lawsuit.
“If it comes to her being pissed about this, I will lie and say I fucking stalked her, okay? You won’t be involved. Give me an address.”
“I… I have to access my files. I need to get to my laptop.”
“Okay. Text me,” I said, then hung up.
At the hotel, she’d taken a ride-share.
No way in hell would she have taken one of those if she lived far from the hotel. It would be too expensive.
I figured she was in Miami somewhere, so I set off in that direction, pushing speed limits the whole way.
When I was in town, I stopped to check my phone, finding Sion had sent me her address to an apartment building only five minutes from where I was idling.
Thank fuck.
A lot of time had already passed.
Adrenaline was pulsing through my veins as I pulled up to the building.
But I had to park down the block because the area was teeming with cops.
No ambulances.
Did that mean victims had already been carted away? Or that they weren’t needed?
I was itching to get in there, but there was no way the cops would let me through when I didn’t live there.
So I cut the engine, and sat there, watching the cops and detectives walk in and out, stopping to talk to each other.
No one seemed too worried about what was going on. But I figured, like in any big city, isolated gun violence wasn’t that big of a deal to the local police departments.
It was almost a full two hours before I saw everyone starting to pack shit up. Detectives first, then the cops.
And then there was… nothing.
Siana lived in a smaller apartment building. I figured it only had maybe twenty apartments in total. It was dwarfed by buildings on both of its sides. But it was a simple white building without a doorman.
That worked in my favor as I made my way toward the front doors, reaching to open the door for a woman who was rushing out with her two babies in her arms, likely wanting to get the hell out of there if there was some threat of violence still hanging around.
I made my way toward the elevators, hitting the button for the third floor where I now knew she lived.
I was only two steps out of the elevator when I saw the police tape.
Directly across the hall from the side Siana’s apartment was on.
I sucked in a reassuring breath, realizing that someone else had likely been gunned down, not her.
But, still.
Gunshots in apartment buildings were dangerous. Depending on the caliber and the direction someone was standing, it was entirely possible for a stray bullet to go through to another apartment.
I made my way toward Siana’s door.
I paused there, though, suddenly fully aware of just how creepy this might come across to her.
I couldn’t seem to make myself turn around and go back home, though. Not without making sure she was okay.
Being considered a creep was better than never knowing what happened to her, if she was okay.
Taking another breath, I raised my hand.
And knocked.
CHAPTER SIX
Siana
I’d officially come to terms with the fact that I was just… insatiable when it came to this biker guy.
Because all I thought about all day was getting back on the app, and seeing if he would message me again.
All through walking Frida, cleaning the apartment, taking some more requested pictures of my feet, and making an elaborate dinner just to have something to occupy my mind.
Clearly, that didn’t work.
Because all I could think about was his deep, sexy voice as he said those dirty things to me, as he stroked himself as he watched and listened to me.
It was crazy because I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt as desired as I did on those video calls. Even though he never saw my face or more than my legs.
Was that all it was?
Was I becoming a little addicted to feeling wanted?
It wouldn’t be crazy to assume that. I mean, I didn’t get any sort of rush from the comments from my subscribers. Because it wasn’t about me. I was just a fetish, just a means to an end for them. I was likely one of many accounts they followed.
But this guy’s focus?
It was on me, about me.
At least in those moments when we were alone together. He was getting off on what we were sharing.