Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I do, however, nod in agreement. Myah is as hardheaded and determined as I am. Her selfish nature is from her mother. I will not take credit for that.
Tapping my fingers silently in thought, I glance at the window again. It’s almost full dark. Some streetlights have come on.
“I should hope that our airport security is more diligent than a middle school’s,” my assistant muses.
A sigh escapes my lips as I bring my fingers up to my temples again. “One would hope. I should have sent a private jet for her, or better yet, I should have insisted that she leave with me when I was in New York last week. It was absurd to wait just so she could go to some friend’s birthday party.”
Across the desk, Calvin shrugs then places his right leg on his left knee. “Friends are important to a girl that age, sir.”
“So is a stable home. But she seems to prefer one over the other.”
“Don’t take it personally. I doubt she is even thinking of you.” His words are a little too sharp, and he drops his eyes when I glare over at him. “Sorry, sir.”
I nod as a show of acceptance. “Let’s get back to it.” We both sit up and temple our fingers. “One, we know that Myah didn’t want to come.”
“Two, we know that she has a history of running away.”
“Three.” I lift a second finger. “We can assume, or hope, that it was really her that checked in at the airport.”
“So, somewhere between arriving at the airport and the plane lifting off, Myah ran away. The question is how.”
Shaking my head, I let another sigh escape my lips. “No, Calvin. The question is to where? My daughter is still in New York, and I now need to call her mother and tell the harpy that.”
Pushing up from his chair, my assistant practically leaps to his feet. “I’ll call the airport and see if anything unusual happened there.”
“I already did that.”
Calvin and I swivel to look at Andrew standing in the doorway. My other assistant glares at the first one. I’m not sure if their hate is playful or real, but it does make them ambitious, so I don’t quash it.
Andrew sashays in like he has the greatest news in the world. Slightly pushing by Calvin, he stands by the corner of my desk with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders straight.
Lifting his chin just slightly, the man rattles off his report — not knowing or caring —that his coworker is immaturely sticking out his tongue behind him. “Nothing of note happened at the airport, sir,” Andrew barks, each word is roughly punctuated. “However, while the plane was taxing on the runway, a passenger became sick. The flight was delayed while she was taken off.”
My fingers are rubbing my temples again. It’s a sign of worry and weakness that I don’t like, but at the moment, I can’t help it.
“That right there, boys, that is what we call opportunity.”
Leaning so he can see me from behind Andrew, Calvin grunts. “Would your daughter really get off a plane with a total stranger?”
“No one is a stranger to Myah. She gets that from her mother, too.”
Both assistants’ eyes go wide, and their mouths clamp shut, obviously thinking over all the implications of that statement. Unfortunately, they are right. However, my past betrayals are not significant right now—only my daughter is.
Chapter Five - Sloane
My stomach is sloshing like I drank ten bottles of wine and took a turn on a tilt-a-whirl. When I open my eyes a slit, I immediately regret it. The light above me is way too bright. What in the hell did I do last night? I don’t remember drinking so much. It must have been a lot to have a hangover this bad.
I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding light that is still accosting my eyes from behind my closed lids, but I can’t reach. Something is attached to my arm. No, something is attached in my arm.
“What the fuck?!”
I snap open my eyes, despite the discomfort and take in my surroundings. I’m in a hospital room and don’t have any clue how I got here.
There is a soft grunt from the chair next to me. “My mom says that only ugly girls cuss.”
I try to slap a hand to my forehead, but the IV in my arm stops me. Somehow, Ms. Chatterbox is still with me. It’s a little too much for my pounding head to handle, so I lean back into my hospital bed and close my eyes again.
“My mother used to say the same thing,” I mutter towards her. “Why are you here? I thought kids weren’t allowed in the emergency room.”
I hear her get up, pull her chair over closer to the bed — making a hideous scraping sound — and then climb back into it. She’s just inches from my shoulder now.