Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"You think he’s going to get bored and walk away from a multi-million-dollar deal?"
"I think there are many multi-million-dollar deals out there for a man like Barrow. We need to hold out for long enough that he finds another easier option to pursue."
"Maybe," I say. "It’s probably worth typing out those notes and sending them in an email. The police can deny a phone call ever happened, but an email is proof of disclosure."
"Exactly," Logan says with a brief smile.
I leave him to deal with the email, glancing up at the newly fitted CCTV, and wonder if it will make any kind of difference. Then, I head to the bar to restock the fridges. We’re opening soon and it’s going to be a busy night.
I fulfill a large order and take my opportunity to speak to Kyla, who's perched at the bar sipping on a Cloud 9 cocktail. Dawn is working and there's no one waiting for my mixing skills, so I pour two shots of tequila and hand one to Kyla.
She stares at it dubiously. "I haven’t drunk tequila in years," she says.
"Me either," I admit. "But tonight feels like one of those nights."
She eyes me as I knock back the bitter liquor, and grimace as it burns its way down my throat. I expect her to leave the drink, but she copies me, coughing and spluttering immediately after she swallows it.
"How was Dawn today?" I ask, then kick myself for not working my question into some lighter conversation.
Kyla’s eyes flick to where her friend is wiping over a table that’s just cleared, then return to me, assessing. "She’s okay," she says. "Better now she’s working."
"Better with a distraction?"
"Maybe." She shrugs, reaching for her cocktail to wash down the tequila’s aftertaste.
"You know you can tell us what’s going on. We only want what’s best for her. We want to help her."
Kyla’s lips stay sealed, pulling back as she widens her eyes and shrugs. "Like I told Jared, it’s not my story to share. Dawn isn’t in a place where she wants to be open about what she’s dealing with. If I told you, she’d probably leave, so she wouldn’t have to face your questions or concerns. Believe me, I’m doing you a favor by keeping you in the dark."
"She’s going to leave, though, isn’t she? Whether you tell us or not."
Kyla’s eyes scan my face and I wonder what she’s looking for. Is she trying to work out if I’m genuine? Is she pondering on the truth or fiction of my words?
"She’s going to leave because that’s what Dawn does. She lives for each day, until it becomes too difficult, then she finds an easier place to live for each day."
My fists ball, hidden by the bar, and I’m glad Kyla can’t see how angry and frustrated her statement has made me feel.
I’m powerless to resist Barrow, and powerless to hold on to the only girl who has ever made me want to think about a future. Everything feels as though it’s slipping through my fingers.
27
THOMAS
After a busy night, everyone returns to their rooms to sleep without pausing to chat and drink and wind down like we usually do. Dawn and Kyla retreated to Dawn’s room without a backward glance, and after that, the rest of us accepted that nothing was going to be accomplished by rehashing the same conversation we’d been having all day.
For a while, I try to sleep, but there is so much uncertainty buzzing around in my brain that I just can’t relax. Eventually, after twisting my sheets into a tangled knot, I decide the only way I’m going to get any sleep is to head outside. I grab a blanket, even though I probably won't need it, and head out to the hammocks.
Kyla is sleeping in Dawn’s room, but I know Dawn. When she can’t sleep, she always comes outside to look up at the stars, so I take a hammock, hoping I’ll get some sleep, and hoping even more that I’ll wake if Dawn appears.
Getting time alone with her is difficult when there are eight other men in competition for her affection. Now that her friend is here and we’re battling other issues, it just feels overwhelming.
The hammock swings gently when I climb in, and the stars blink down at me for as long as I can keep my eyes open. The sounds of the night eventually lull me into an easy sleep.
I don’t know what time it is when a hand rests on my shoulder and squeezes. I crack a dry eye and find myself gazing into the tired face of Dawn.
My wish came true.
"Can I get in?" she says softly. "I can’t sleep."
"Sure."
It’s a weird and awkward process to get into a hammock with another person. There’s no preventing the tangle of limbs or the vigorous trembling of the cloth that is the only thing supporting you. By the time she’s successfully wedged in next to me, we’ve laughed and gasped and succumbed to more than a few bumps and bruises.