Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Text from Eric, Tell Titus to bring you in.
Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God!
“We can go,” Raye and I said at the same time, this meaning she got a text too.
Titus started rolling forward, but it took a while to get the three blocks to where all the police cars with their lights still flashing were angled around because Titus had to pull to the side twice for more patrols to pass us.
In that time, I texted Eric, Coming!
When Titus parked as close as he could get, he said in a voice he hadn’t used yet, one that was not to be denied, it was also another indication of why he was who he was, “You go only when I tell you to go.”
Not in the mood to see what would happen if I tried to deny Titus, I texted Eric, We’re here, but Titus won’t let us get out until he knows it’s okay.
After that, we waited.
An ambulance came screaming in.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
And then we heard the horns of a firetruck before we saw a couple of cops angle their cars out of the way so that big, red behemoth could get in.
The firemen dropped down practically before that thing was fully parked and started hustling.
That was when I noticed the smoke billowing up from the house one down and across the street from where Titus parked.
“I’m thinkin’ your boys don’t mind mess, which I’m also thinkin’ with this crew they were up against is a little bit of all right,” Titus observed.
It seemed so. We only had to hope none of them were part of the mess.
I twisted again in my seat and asked Raye, “Cap texted, right?”
She nodded.
“There!” Harlow cried and pointed.
I looked there and saw Eric doing his beautiful saunter through the mess of first responder vehicles, heading our way.
He didn’t have any blood on him, thank God, but he did have a gun holstered at his hip, as well as one in a shoulder holster.
“You can go now,” Titus allowed.
We all jumped out of the car.
But only Raye and I raced across the street. Me to Eric, and Raye to Cap, who was trailing Eric by about five feet.
I hit Eric like a dart, if his oof! was anything to go by.
After I hugged him tight, I touched his head, his shoulders, ran my hands down his chest, while asking, “You all right?”
“Fine, honey. We’re all fine.”
Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God!
I looked into his eyes. “Homer?”
“Come with me.”
He took my hand and walked me to the sidewalk. We had to dodge a bunch of people, and a cop started to say something to us, saw Eric and stopped, when Eric led us into the yard of a house, the back of which was on fire.
To the side of the yard, well away from the melee but being guarded by some cops, was a gaggle of scruffy people.
One of them was Homer.
I pulled my hand free and raced to him.
Eric called, “She’s with me,” to the cop who moved to block me.
I came to a rocking halt in front of Homer.
He looked unsettled, undone, and seemed to have trouble focusing on me.
“Hey, Homer,” I greeted. “You okay?”
When my voice sounded, it appeared as if some of the confusion cleared.
Therefore, I kept talking.
“Do you need me to go get some plastic bags so we have everything to get you home?” I asked.
I watched the confusion completely clear, and he focused on me.
“You’re here,” he whispered.
“Yeah, big guy,” I whispered back. “I’m here.”
He stared at me.
I lamented my decision to study cocktails and not psychology.
Then I held my breath as he walked up to me, got toe to toe, bent his neck, pressed just his forehead to mine, and repeated, “You’re here.”
Good Lord.
I was going to lose it.
“You’re my friend,” I said huskily.
“You’re my friend too, Jessie,” he replied.
Totally going to lose it.
“I’m so glad,” I choked out.
We looked into each other’s eyes.
Then he stepped back and the spell was broken.
“Can I go home?” he asked.
“As soon as we can manage it,” I answered. “Promise.”
He nodded and shuffled away to get close to the others. They didn’t look good, mentally or hygienically, though at least they looked fed.
Harlow and Luna were cautiously approaching the huddle when I turned and nearly bumped into Eric.
The look on his face aimed right at me took my breath away.
I powered through that and requested, “Can we get them home?”
“Don’t ever again tell me you’re not special,” he said as reply.
Oh God, I was holding it together, and he was going to send me over the edge.
“I can’t now, honey,” I warned him.
He nodded sharply and shared, “We’re working on it. The cops obviously need to interview them. Mace is trying to tell them that’d go better if they got them where they feel safe.”