Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Eliza needs my help, dammit. But if I’m right and I’m dragging Destiny into something I shouldn’t?
What do I do with my kid?
I grit my teeth, staring out the window while Destiny scans her phone. I swear, I could move this ride faster than Tom is right now. You never forget dealing with water in all its forms when you’re a Navy man who served on the open sea.
I also did my fair share of training with tactical driving once.
“Dad, can I ask you something?” So much for the phone stealing her attention.
Before I can answer, Tom says, “Hey, I’m sorry, Mr. Lancaster. I’ve got no choice but to pull over. I can’t even see the road, and I’m not risking us running off of it.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Not what I want to hear right now.
Sighing, I look at Destiny.
“If the PI hasn’t finished the investigation, why did Troy tell me it was suicide?”
Isn’t that the big fucking elephant in the room?
“When I find out, you’ll know,” I promise.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks quietly.
Dammit, Destiny. I’ve got to figure out how to move this pig of a luxury car in a storm.
I don’t have time to be father of the year right now. Still, I know she’s scared and confused, so I breathe slowly and nod.
“Remember what Eliza said the day my necklace got stolen? She said random robbers wouldn’t have left my purse and phone.” She bites her lip nervously.
“I know, little bee,” I say, gently brushing her hair.
Eliza was too right about a lot of things.
When I look out the window again, Tom guides us into a parking lot for a small grocery store. He must lose control because we slide, hydroplaning across the pavement before the car comes to a stop.
“It wasn’t random, was it, Dad?” Destiny’s voice is hollowed out.
My gut aches, empty and unsettled.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. You’re safe with me,” I tell her. I just have to make sure Eliza is, too. “Tom, get in the back with Destiny.”
He turns around slowly with a bewildered look.
“Sir?”
“Do it. Quickly,” I bite off.
With a shrug, he climbs out and gets in the back of the car. By the time he’s seated again, I’m behind the wheel, soaking wet from the rain.
“Mr. Lancaster, please. This storm is terrible and it’s due to last for at least another hour. We can’t drive in this.”
“We’ll see,” I say, wiping cold rain and hot sweat from my brow. “My eyes are younger than yours and I have tactical driving experience.”
“Dad...” Destiny purses her lips like she’s in awe from the back seat, her eyes gleaming.
“Sir, unless you’re part hawk—”
“No need. I’m taking us to Eliza, even if I have to drive across the whole damn Pacific.”
23
The Devil’s Cup (Eliza)
Go ahead and say it.
I was wrong.
Until about five minutes ago, I thought the biggest mistake of my life was abandoning a lovable grouch of a man plus the best job I’ll probably ever have thanks to said lovable grouch and his dumb mouth.
Nope.
Turns out, my biggest mistake was getting in the car with this babbling psychopath.
How did I never notice how strange Troy Clement is?
We’re outside Seattle now, and this is definitely not the way to the UPS store or the airport.
The way the rain keeps coming, it’s hard to tell exactly where we are.
But that smug smile he always wears is gone and he’s driving like a bat out of hell.
He keeps muttering to himself—whining about his own 'jackass stupidity'—and I’m long past scared.
I managed to send Cole a semi-clear picture of a mile marker not too far back, and then sent the same blurry image to Dakota. All while trying to hide my screen from Troy.
Everyone must be out fighting the rain on their own, though, because neither of them have responded.
“Hey, Troy, any idea how the route looks now?” I ask, trying so hard to keep my voice neutral, free from panic.
“Yeah. We’ll be at UPS shortly. I know a better store out this way,” he says coldly.
I frown, wiping the condensation from the side window, peering at nothing but more wet darkness. “Oh. I thought you didn’t want me mailing the necklace? It’s okay, I can always do it from San Diego...”
“Not my choice.” He gives me a frosty, almost menacing look that chills me to the bone. “Nothing ever fucking is.”
Big yikes.
His eyes flick to my hands again, focusing on the small black turtle still dangling idly from the chain. He’s been staring at it for the last five minutes, ever since I made the mistake of fidgeting with the necklace again.
Not good. He needs to keep his eyes on the road.
“Why do you keep looking?” I ask gently.
He clenches the steering wheel so hard it’s amazing he doesn’t snap a finger.
“Doing what?” He flicks his eyes back to the road.