Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Something in the neighborhood then, maybe. You said it was a rough area, right?”
“Yeah. It was bad when we grew up there. Seems to be the same now. Lots of local crews. Deals going on in broad daylight. Pimps and sex workers all night long. Not to mention all the other shit.”
“Hopefully, it was just an isolated incident. Maybe she was walking around when some sort of deal was going on and they were trying to scare her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
But the knot in my stomach said it was more than that.
I was just going to have to wait until she opened up to me about it.
I just prayed she would do so before it was too late.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jade
The comfort and ease that had been growing with each moment spent at the clubhouse with Levee slipped away little by little with each mile I drove away from there and back to my own life.
I tried to rein in my increasingly scattered emotions, reminding myself that this was the best possible time for me to head back to my apartment.
It was bright out.
People would be milling around.
And I was going to just make a mad dash into the building and then my apartment. If I didn’t slow or stop, the chances of anyone being able to corner me were really low.
Then, well, I would just keep my butt in my apartment. With the locked and alarmed door. Maybe a knife nearby.
And I was damn sure going to stop. Stop looking for Harvey. Stop trying to figure out who T was and what he or his men might have done to Harvey.
I was done.
Snooping around nearly broke my nose, cut up my face, almost did worse.
I was going to do what the message on my whiteboard demanded. I was going to mind my own damn business.
Staying in my apartment all but assured that.
I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t going to become a shut-in, that I wasn’t going to let the fear rule my life, that I really just needed to hunker down and get some work done. Especially with all these commissions coming in.
I knew, of course, that the fear was the driving force that was making me plan to place a grocery delivery order instead of walking around the store to browse like I always did, loving to get inspired by the sights and scents.
Or why I was calculating how many days I had left of clothes before I would need to brave the isolated laundry room.
I wondered if I could find my savior kid and invite him to hang with me while my laundry washed, giving him a one-on-one art lesson while things washed and dried.
But, for God’s sake, that meant I was relying on a literal child to feel safe. I didn’t care if he carried a switchblade. It was still wrong. Cowardly.
So maybe I could just wash my clothes in the sink instead.
These were the things still on my mind as I found a prime parking spot right out front of the building; I would actually be able to watch my car from my window if I wanted to.
I yanked my purse up on my shoulder, took a steadying breath, and climbed out of my car. I made sure to bleep my locks before taking long, purposeful strides toward the building. I hoped I looked like I was in a rush, not like I was running.
I imagined the worst thing I could do was come off scared. So I tried not to, though I did duck my head to avoid anyone getting too good of a look at my black eye and cut cheek.
I didn’t want to have to lie to neighbor-friends about it too. I’d been doing too much lying already. It was making my stomach hurt.
I was going to need to come clean to Levee eventually if I wanted things to keep progressing with us. And I did.
Maybe after I cooked him dinner. That felt like a good time to tell him something like that.
“Look at you go,” I said to William as he buzzed past me too quickly to possibly get a look at me.
He made some sort of harrumph in response to that but said nothing else as I turned to see him whip into the elevator.
Well, Levee would be glad to know he was using the chair he’d bought him and was able to do more for himself now. Maybe once I got a little makeup on my eye to avoid questions, I could drop over and make sure his hand was alright.
I stuck my key in my lock.
But I didn’t get a chance to turn it.
Because my door just… pushed open.
Panic was a rope around my neck, pulling tighter as the door slid open to reveal my apartment.
My completely wrecked apartment.
A whimpering sound worked its way up my throat and out from between my lips as I stared at the scattered contents of my kitchen drawers and cabinets, at my flipped couch cushions, at my books and trinkets littering the floor.