Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Let’s go, then.” At least the blood was out of his eyes and he could see. He felt like a fool with a blouse wrapped around his head. The devil only knew what he looked like, but he wasn’t going to let her face whatever was in that house—good or bad— alone.
Zyah hesitated, shook her head and then turned toward the house. “You know you’re stubborn as hell.”
He couldn’t deny that charge, so he concentrated on not vomiting all over her nearly immaculate garage. She hurried, walking upright, while he had to crawl. There was no way for him to get up on his feet. After she punched the code into the door and used her thumbprint on top of the code, she glanced over her shoulder and said something very unladylike under her breath.
“What are you doing? Player?”
His name was whispered right along with a curse word. He could barely distinguish between the two, but he was concentrating on dragging himself to the door without his head falling off.
“There’s a trail of blood behind you wider than a river.” She was back, crouching down to circle his waist with her arm. “This is silly. You can’t even stand up.”
Yeah, he got that. He clenched his teeth against the nausea, praying to the fucking devil he didn’t throw up all over her. He went to his go-to place, trying to build bombs in his head, something he’d done since he was a child, to keep from losing his mind.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stand. What do you usually do when you enter the house? The first thing, Zyah?” He rested on the stairs while he asked. He wasn’t even certain he was talking. Or making sense.
“I call out to her. Tell her I’m home.”
“Do that, then, but don’t go all the way inside. Does she answer you?”
“Yes, right away. She’s always up waiting for me no matter the time.”
“Pay attention to her voice. Does she sound the same? Under duress? Do you have a word or phrase you’ve worked out indicating one or both of you are in trouble?” He could barely think with the pounding in his skull. He had to speak through clenched teeth and hope she didn’t notice.
“That would have been a good idea. But yes, I would know if she was under duress.” She didn’t wait but stepped inside the open door and called out cheerfully. “Mama Anat, I’m back.”
“You ran late tonight.” The relief in her grandmother’s voice was evident. “I was worried, Zyah.” Anxiety made her voice tremble.
“Are you alone? Did Lizz leave already?” Deliberately, Zyah helped Player crawl into the hallway and then turned on the water at the sink in the kitchen as if she were washing her hands.
“Lizz’s granddaughter called earlier and needed a ride somewhere important. She waited as long as she could for you to get home. I told her I’d be all right. I have a sawedoff shotgun right here, sitting on my lap. She watched me load it before she left.”
“Mama Anat, that is illegal here in the States.” Zyah tried to keep the laughter out of her voice, but relief clearly was making her a little giddy. “You don’t have a permit, or whatever it is you need.”
“If the cops came, I was going to shove it under the bed. I had a plan.”
Zyah kept her arm around Player, urging him forward, but he balked at moving another inch. He didn’t want to die in front of her grandmother. He could taste blood in his mouth. The edges of his mind were so dark now, he truly was afraid he was going to die before Maestro got there. Desperately, he worked on that alternate reality, trying to be meticulous about arranging his bomb, holding his brain together until he was alone and Zyah was safe.
“I don’t want to scare her, looking like this.” He couldn’t get to his feet. He was still on his hands and knees, even with her arm around his waist. “The brothers will be here soon, and they’ll deal with me.”
“Who’s that with you?” her grandmother asked, her voice sharp. Demanding.
“Zyah. Look at me. I can’t meet her looking like this.” Player was beginning to feel a little desperate. He wasn’t going to make a good impression by vomiting all over her grandmother’s floor, and that was about to happen. “Go in and let her see you. I’ll be fine right here. She needs to know you’re all right.” He poured persuasion into his voice, knowing it wasn’t right, but not caring. “Best not to say anything about all of this yet.”
“He escorted me home, Mama Anat. He rolled over the hood of my car and hit his head on the concrete.”