Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I’ve gotten to know New Orleans pretty well and I notice he’s taking a strange route that keeps us parallel along smaller streets rather than taking the straight shot into town. It’ll take twice as long this way and I’m curious why he’s doing it. I watch him, see his eyes move to the rear-view mirror again.
“Are you looking for something?” I ask.
“A parking spot. Ah.” He parallel parks with ease in front of an exclusive restaurant in a boutique hotel. I’ve seen it mentioned for their exceptional steak in various magazines I’ve perused while on my breaks at The Cat House. A line of cabs stands waiting across the street.
He puts the SUV into Park and glances once more in his rear-view mirror, then at the car that passes us. It’s a black Audi and something about it startles me. My heart pounds because I swear, I recognize it. But it can’t be. There’s no way.
“Blue?” The car slows at the crosswalk as a mother crosses the street alongside her young child on a bike. I turn to find Zeke watching me.
“Yeah?”
“Ready?”
“For what?” No. I’m mistaken. There are probably thousands of black Audis in New Orleans. I don’t even know the model. Do they all have rosary beads hanging from the rear-view mirror though?
“Dinner.” His gaze follows mine to the car which is pulling away from the crosswalk. “See someone you know?” he asks, too perceptive.
I shake my head maybe too quickly because his eyes narrow infinitesimally.
“Let’s go in,” he finally says once it disappears from view.
“Yeah, okay.” I look up at the restaurant. This is good. Dinner is good. Because whether or not I recognize the car, it just goes to show I’m not safe. Wren isn’t safe. My father knows where we are, and he’s not the only person looking for me. There’s the man who hired him, for starters, who came looking for the laptop after his arrest. If my father could find me from behind bars, then that man with more means could easily do so, too. The longer Wren and I are in New Orleans, the more dangerous this becomes.
Once we’re back in the house, I’m trapped. There’s no way I can get away. Here, maybe I can pretend to use the bathroom, slip out. I eye all those waiting taxis. There’s a chance at least.
But am I safer with him? Can he truly protect me? He doesn’t know the whole story. He only knows about my father. And what about Wren? She can’t protect herself at all.
No. I need to get away from Ezekiel St. James, get Wren and get out of town. And this may be my only chance.
“I’m starving, actually. Thanks.”
He gets out of the car and comes to my side to open my door. I climb out, clear my throat and tug my sweater closer. I take my tote with me.
He gestures to the entrance and when we reach it, a uniformed attendant opens the door. Soft piano music plays inside, the lighting a gentle, golden glow and tables set with sweeping white tablecloths and more silverware than I know what to do with.
The hostess glances at me, her resting bitch face firmly in place. When she looks up at Zeke, she rearranges her features, smiling wide, blinking what must be ten pounds of fake eyelashes at him. I want to roll my eyes.
“Table for two. Something private.”
“Do you have a reservation, Mr…” she trails off.
He gives her a smile. “No, but I’m sure you can find room for us.” He peers at her nametag. “Carly.”
“Of course, sir.” She gathers two menus along with a wine card. Zeke puts his hand at my lower back to nudge me to follow Carly as she exaggeratedly wiggles her curvy little ass—another eyeroll—all the way across the restaurant to the farthest table in the corner. I take in the layout, noting the restrooms are down a corridor which might lead to an exit. “Will this do, sir?” Carly asks.
“Perfectly.”
He pulls my chair out and I sit. Carly doesn’t spare me a glance as she leans deeply and holds the menus out to Zeke, her perky boobs almost popping out of her dress.
“We won’t need those. We’ll take two steaks, rare, and a bottle of—”
“Are you ordering for me?” I ask, interrupting.
He looks at me, eyebrows raised, and nods.
“Maybe I can have a look at the menu. Since it’s 2024 and all.” The last part I mutter as I pluck one of the menus out of Carly’s hands and open it. Good thing they can’t see my face over the top because the prices are insane. Everything is expensive. Even the chicken. Who pays that much for chicken? And I don’t even know what some of the things are, so I close it and clear my throat.