Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I leaned back and blew out a breath.
In another life…
The fucker couldn’t be trusted for shit, but man, he was good.
My problem was that four days stuck in a tiny room was driving me batshit crazy. I missed having someone to talk to. My own company sucked, because I was my own devil’s advocate.
Once the worst of the rage had exploded and then faded again, I’d started seeing things differently. Most of all, I’d forced myself to point out that he’d done the exact same thing Ryan and I had. Granted, we hadn’t fucking known he was a Fed. Except, we hadn’t let him go as soon as we’d found out either. We were putting our mission first too.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t angry.
Or hurt.
The hurt probably bothered me the most, because this was personal. He’d lied to my face. He’d schemed and planned it all.
If I hadn’t been the one who’d made the first move to kiss, I would’ve accused him of tricking me into bed. Or whatever. But who knew, maybe he’d turned himself into someone I was drawn to. I couldn’t know, could I?
He was a fucking snake.
One who had started stalking me on social.
Real nice.
“Let me out of here!” I yelled. I kicked at the wall to the bathroom repeatedly. “Do you hear me, Mercier?! Let me the fuck out, you fucking coward!”
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take another day. My chest heaved with each breath, and I blinked past a spell of dizziness that filled my vision with black spots.
Was the cabin soundproof? Could he face Carillo on this boat if I yelled Mercier’s real name over and over?
“Adrien!” I shouted.
Nothing happened.
I slumped down on the bed, my shoulders fucking killing me, and I tried to regulate my breathing.
The sun was going down. I was losing another day. I should be with my team. I should be helping them. Instead, I was fucking useless. Trapped. Alone. Doing fuck-all to catch Toby’s killer. My best friend with his dumbass jokes and baby on the way. Goddammit, goddammit! Shot in the head—in the back of his head. ’Cause the murderer was a coward.
Carillo had sent them all to Elliott’s place. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to see the light go out in Carillo’s eyes.
What time was it? I hadn’t been served dinner yet. When Bucko came back, I might actually apologize for being a dick earlier. I just needed someone to talk to for a minute.
My skin prickled uncomfortably, like when your leg fell asleep. Or like when my brothers and I were kids and we’d run around to twist one another’s arms.
We’d always ended up in the kitchen.
“Boys! For chrissakes, be nice to each other! Cullen! Come get the boys. I need to finish dinner.”
“Crew started it, Mom!”
“Nuh-uh!”
Dad hadn’t exactly improved the situation when he’d barged into the kitchen to teach us how to “do it right.”
He was like an overgrown kid sometimes, even today.
Not unlike Ryan. Gramps. Fuck, now I missed that bastard too.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
What was happening to me? Why was I hyperventilating? Oh God. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and tried to put my head between my legs. I was freaking out. Why? Why? Nothing had happened all day. Breakfast, pancakes. Lunch, finger sandwiches. I’d scared Bucko. Nothing else. I’d taken a shower. I’d slept. I’d paced the floor and roller-coastered between anger, hurt, frustration, and boredom.
Ryan must’ve found the phone by now. Four days. Everyone had a lot to do, so I wouldn’t expect anyone to drive all the way to Italy just because I missed a phone call. But after a day or two? Maybe sooner. I didn’t actually know if Mercier had sent that message to Elliott. If he had, it might’ve alerted them to something being wrong sooner.
I hated not knowing.
I hated being alone.
Another round of dizziness washed over me, and I gulped for air. The walls—were they moving closer to me? Was the room shrinking? I broke out in a cold sweat, and I slipped off the bed, down on the floor. That was the rule, right? If there was a fire, you got down on the floor because heat rose and oxygen didn’t.
It felt like my heart was threatening to pound its way out of my chest.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t fucking breathe!
Crew.
I rubbed my neck against the edge of the bed in a futile attempt at loosening the collar. It was suffocating me.
Crew!
Get it off me!
“Get it off me,” I rasped.
“Crew, listen to me.”
I—
I squirmed around, toward the warm voice, and then the noose around my neck was gone. It fell to the floor as my blurry vision registered Adrien.
“Focus on your breathing, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here.”
I couldn’t fucking focus on anything else anyway. Each shallow breath was a stab in the chest, the pain centering over my heart. Was I dying? I had to be too young for a heart attack, right? Was he taking me to a hospital? We were moving. He was ushering me down a narrow corridor, and I flinched and turned into Adrien’s arms. I didn’t wanna see another wall coming at me. The whole fucking boat was shrinking and trying to swallow me down.