Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I rub my temple. A fine-tooth comb couldn’t find a discrepancy. The research and evidence are solid. Feeling confident in the case I’ve laid out, I rock back in the chair and stare out the window. A few lights scatter across the business district of dark skyscrapers, but otherwise, the city that never sleeps has gone to bed.
Glancing at the clock on my computer, I realize more time has passed than I thought. The pasta that I forgot to eat sits in its covered dish nearby. No wonder I have no energy. No food. No caffeine . . . What did happen to my coffee? I must have dropped it when running to help Tuesday.
Tuesday.
Tuesday is the last thing that should be on my mind.
That damn gleam of victory that shone in her eyes at the coffee shop still lingers. I should be annoyed that she got the better of me then, but I chuckle instead, her words no longer burning my ego like they did before.
But it was when she was in the ambulance and later lying in the hospital bed that I got to see the other side of the frustrating woman. The softer side of her lost in the tranquility of sleep. It didn’t matter that chaos surrounded us, which disappeared under the unrelenting connection we had now formed. Whether we liked it or not, we were entangled together because of one act of violence.
Sitting by her side, I felt a pull from outside myself to take care of her. That’s when I knew I was right where I was supposed to be.
I pick up my phone, indulging my own need to know, and track down the number for the hospital.
Nine a.m. sharp.
Just as instructed by Nurse Belinda when I called for an update last night, which she only begrudgingly gave me because no one else had shown up for Tuesday.
I’m sitting in the back of the SUV now, waiting when I don’t even know what her caution of “releasing her into the wilds of the city at nine a.m. sharp” meant, but her words still rumble around my head this morning. Is it code for something?
Apparently, it was all she could say and more than she should have. I’m trusting the process. From the driver’s seat, Brady offers, “I can move closer.”
“No. This is fine. I don’t want to block other cars.”
He seems curious as to why we’re parked in the hospital driveway and sitting here. I wish I had a better explanation for him, but I’m at a loss as well.
My phone buzzes on the seat. Leisa’s name flashes on the screen. I answer on speakerphone. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yep,” she replies, sighing. “She called court to order for nine thirty. Can you make it in time?”
Hospital personnel walk inside just as an older couple exits, but there’s no sign of Belinda. I check my watch. 9:03. Even if there was no traffic, I wouldn’t make it. “I’m across town. There’s no way.”
“How late will you be?”
The hospital doors slide open, and my gaze lengthens, locking onto blond hair that lifts in the wind and blue eyes searching as if she’s looking for me.
Tuesday.
I’ve been looking for the wrong woman.
My heart starts thumping in my chest in unwarranted anticipation now realizing that Belinda set me up.
“Loch?” Leisa’s voice returns as I open the door to the SUV. “Mr. Allendale is at the courthouse to meet his clients for a ten o’clock appearance. Would you like me to have him step in for you?”
“Yes. I need to go.” I hang up, get out, and shut the door.
Tuesday stands in stark contrast to her appearance at the coffee shop. Although she’s bundled up in her coat, the skirt dipping out the bottom, and the same heels I last saw her wearing, everything about her is softer, from the lines on the sides of her mouth to her stance and the gentle waves that run through her hair and over her shoulders.
She’s fucking stunning.
But when I catch her gaze, it’s like she’s lost—stormy clouds full of fear settling in. It’s a look that should never cross her face.
I start for her. “What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter to myself, tempted to run my hand through my hair. I don’t. I have court later, and I pride myself on always being put together, even under pressure. “Hi,” I say. “Not sure if you remember me from the coffee shop?”
She’s staring at me, and for a split second, I detect a hint of recognition spark in her eyes. “I, um . . .” She starts but is already shaking her head in doubt.
“Of course, not.” I’m shaking my head to let her off the hook. Stopping a few feet away from her, I continue, “It was a brief encounter. Before—”