Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I give up,” she told me instead of him.
“It’s probably for the best,” I concurred.
I was chuckling as I changed my clothes, thinking about Talia giving her brother crap, when my phone rang and it was her.
“That’s weird,” I told her.
“What’s weird?”
“I was just now thinkin’ ’bout ya.”
“Yeah?” And I heard it then, the slight tremble in her voice.
“Why’re you callin’ me?”
“I can’t call? I’m what, one of Lang’s exes?”
“That’s not what I—where are you?”
“I’m…at a party downtown, near your apartment.”
“Okay.”
“Are you home?”
“I am.”
“But Lang’s not with you, right?”
“No, he’s on that double date with Malik, remember?”
Deep sigh of relief. “That’s right, that’s right. Good.”
“Why is it good?”
“Because you won’t make this as big a deal as he will, and I don’t want to hear that I’m an idiot right now. All I need is some help.”
I could feel the chill slither down my spine. “Why do you need help?”
“Or maybe it’s fine. Maybe I’m being paranoid.”
“You’re not paranoid.”
“Not normally, no.”
“Where are you?” I repeated.
“I think maybe… See, I went to the bathroom, and when I got back, this guy, Quentin—it’s his party I’m at, and he has this great penthouse—”
“When you got back,” I prompted softly. “Finish your thought.”
“Yeah, so when I got back, he handed me an amaretto sour, and you know how much I love those, but normally one, or even two, don’t do anything at all.”
My gut clenched.
“But somehow, I’m really feeling this one. I was going to ask Darcy to take me home, but she left, and I don’t know why she…”
I waited for her to continue.
“We were supposed to go to dinner after this because it was going to be just a quick stop in to say hello to Mr. Al—sorry, Quentin. I’m still wrapping my head around him telling me to use his first name—but see, he’s in from New York to oversee a sale, and I…Del, I don’t feel like myself and that’s so strange.”
She was rambling, which was unlike her. “Where’s his place?”
“By Millennium Park.”
“You got an address you can send me?”
“Oh yes,” she chirped happily. “We all got a text invite.”
“And you’re doin’ what right now?”
“Well, I guess because I was a bit wobbly, Mr. Al—Quentin—walked me to the game room, and now I’m sitting in here with him and a few of his friends.”
A terrible thought occurred to me, but I was naturally suspicious. “Any women in there?”
“No, and I—I mean, I’m not stupid, but Quentin and I, we work for the same company, but I don’t feel like myself and—”
“I’m comin’,” I told her, “but I think I’m gonna go on and send CPD ahead of me, so—”
“No. Ohmygod no. I will die of embarrassment, and what would Quentin think of me for even insinuating that he—”
“Fine, then do me a favor and make barfy noises, get your ass back to the bathroom, and lock the door.”
“The room is spinning a bit.”
“Do it now. Right now and keep me on the phone.”
Her pretend-vomit noises were pretty convincing, and I heard voices that sounded worried, probably about the carpet, and then everything was muffled, and when she spoke to me again, she sounded like she was in an echo chamber.
“How big is that bathroom?” I asked, stepping into a pair of Converse sneakers, grabbing my keys, and going out the front door.
“It’s huge in here. Would it be bad if I lie down in the tub? I’m really dizzy, and my face feels hot.”
“You can sit down on the toilet and wait for me. Do not open that door for anyone, you understand? I don’t care who’s outside.”
She made a noise of agreement.
After checking the address she’d texted me, I realized I was even closer than I thought, about three minutes tops by car. I could have taken a cab, but my adrenaline was pumping at that point, and I knew I needed to get there. Plus, with Chicago traffic on a Friday night, merely a bit after eight, I was better off running.
For the second time that day, I flew down the city blocks, my feet eating up the pavement. This time, though it was still very hot and sticky outside, I was in shorts and a T-shirt, and that, along with my sneakers, made it much easier.
Once I reached the lavish, secure building, the guard at the desk stood up to say something to me, but I flashed my badge and told him I was there to get a friend.
“No worries, Marshal,” he said kindly and walked me quickly to the elevator, using a card to get the doors open for me.
“Do I need that to get to the penthouse?”
“You certainly do,” he confirmed and passed me the card. “Do you want me to call up to the penthouse for you? There’s two of them. I can let either know that you’re on your way.”