Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Only, it doesn’t. My body breaks out in cold sweat while spasms contract my stomach.
I’m not going to make it to the bathroom.
Grabbing the trashcan next to my desk, I empty my stomach inside it. I retch pitifully until nothing but dry heaves are left.
Depleted of energy, I straighten with effort and use a tissue from the box on my desk to wipe my mouth. I’m grateful that no one witnessed the spectacle.
It takes all my strength to take my bag and slip to the bathroom with the trashcan in my arms. Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone in the hallway. In the bathroom, I take the foldable toothbrush and mini toothpaste I use at work from my bag. After rinsing the trashcan and brushing my teeth, I feel a little better. The face that stares back at me in the reflection of the mirror is pale. The skin beneath my eyes appears bruised.
I apply blush and lipstick and brush my hair.
There.
My colleagues won’t be able to tell the difference between my noon and my morning face.
Dragging in a steadying breath, I take stock of myself. The nausea has abated. My stomach growls with hunger as if I haven’t just puked out my guts.
I blow out a sigh. “These swings between puking when I smell food and wanting to shove everything in the fridge down my throat are going to take getting used to.” Smiling, I cup my stomach. “Think you can cause a little less havoc in there?”
After lunch, I almost feel like my old self. It’s not until I walk home at six that I’m unsteady on my feet again. It’s so bad that I have to hold onto a lamppost while I wait for the traffic light to change.
I made sure to eat enough. It can’t be my blood sugar. Yet when I step off the sidewalk, it’s as if the world falls away from under my feet. My body breaks out in sweat despite the mild temperature and the cool breeze. The sound of the traffic is suddenly too loud in my ears. Every honk of a horn is like a hammer beating between my temples. The smell of exhaust pipe fumes and tar is suffocating. It takes every bit of my strength not to give in to the weakness that threatens to buckle my knees.
Somehow, I make it to my building where I drag myself up the stairs and unlock my door with a shaky hand. Relief washes over me when I walk into the lounge and dump my bag on the sofa.
The one minute I’m thinking how glad I am that I’m home, and the next, my vision splinters into a kaleidoscope of white light before frizzling out around the edges and turning dark.
I wake up with a pounding headache on the lounge floor.
It’s dark outside. The city lights are visible through the windows. The time on the microwave says it’s just after six-thirty.
It takes me a moment to remember.
I fainted.
I sit up and rub a hand over the back of my head where the pain is the worst.
Ouch.
There’s a big egg. I must’ve knocked my head on the floor.
Using the armrest of the sofa, I pull myself up. I still feel weak, so I walk next to the wall so that I can lean against it if necessary.
In the kitchen, I pour a glass of milk and sit down at the table to drink it.
What happened?
Is it my blood pressure?
I bite my lip as I contemplate my options. I didn’t plan on seeing a doctor so soon. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go until my next trimester, but I can’t risk my baby’s health.
When I feel a little more stable, I fetch my bag and take out the phone. I access the app my ob-gyn uses and send her a message, explaining what happened.
A reply comes a few seconds later. She’s scheduled me for an emergency checkup tomorrow morning at eight.
A grateful sigh escapes my lips. She only sees patients from nine, which means she’s coming in early especially for me, and I have no idea how I’m going to tell her that I can’t pay her.
CHAPTER
TEN
Saverio
The car I ordered from my contact is at Hanscom Field when we land. A short drive brings us to the house Luigi owns. The humble, fully furnished, one-story residence stands empty for most of the year. We use it as a safe house when our men have to lie low or a halfway stop to Portland where we launder a portion of our money in a cement factory.
While Giorgio stretches out on the lumpy sofa, I set up the laptop and get the surveillance on our targets going. A hacker already tapped into their system and streamed the recording to my computer via an encrypted feed.