Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I make quick work of a shower before starting to pack my things. From working and getting tips, my bank account has enough that I could get an apartment near campus for a few months, but I don’t have enough to cover the entire semester. Nash offered to pay for one, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take anything from that man.
I try not to think about the danger I could still be in. I don’t know if this Cortez guy will send someone else after me, but I plan to be diligent.
The days of me putting myself in danger are over.
Donavan was there most times things really could’ve gone wrong for me, but him leaving hurts more than I think anyone else could cause. Physical pain has a way of dulling over time. The way my chest feels like it’s going to cave in is something I wish I could’ve avoided altogether.
I wanted to ask yesterday, while I was at the office, if the meeting was about Cortez, but I doubted anyone would give me any details. Being denied an answer would’ve just pissed me off. I’d like to think Ayla would warn me or ask me to start school later if I were in danger, but I guess there’s always a chance that she’s too busy with her own life to worry about me. I’ve screamed until I was red in the face claiming to be an adult, so I guess this is her way of proving that I am.
Afternoon fades into evening, which fades into night, without Nash or Ayla returning home.
I check the locks a hundred times, and never grow calm enough to fall asleep. The drive back to campus tomorrow is going to suck.
I make mental plans to be better this next semester. If anything so I can have a job different from waiting tables, not that I’ve declared a major or anything. The idea of working in an office for the rest of my life makes my skin crawl, but not as much as going home every night smelling like fryer grease.
I leave Nash’s house behind, refusing to see the use of his car as anything other than his way of getting me out of their hair. Traffic is horrific because I-35 is never fucking calm.
I try to put as many miles between how I feel about Donavan as I put between Mission and Lindell, but as I pull up to campus, I still look around, hoping to see him hiding in the shadows.
Chapter 34
Donavan
I don’t know if Angel teaming Fox and me up together is his way of punishing us or his way of getting rid of us. I swear I’ll slit his fucking throat if he clears it one more time.
I clench my hands into fists as he sniffs.
“Do you need a fucking tissue or some goddamned cough syrup or something?”
“Getting over a fucking cold. Get off my ass,” he grumbles.
“We aren’t going to find shit. It’s like that motherfucker has an inside man. He’s always two fucking steps ahead of us.”
Fox doesn’t respond. The man hates to talk more than I do and that’s saying a lot.
“What’s your connection to Cortez?” I ask, even though I know he’s not going to answer me.
He clears his throat again before reaching for a fucking cough drop in the cup holder.
“You better not be fucking contagious,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on the front of the house we’ve been instructed to watch.
I want to get this shit over with so I can get back to Alani. I had to leave her sleeping two days ago because if I woke her up, I was going to be even later than I was. We were supposed to meet at the office at three in the morning. I overslept and didn’t get there until half past, but Fox was even later, arriving dead last and looking like we were the villains in this fucking story.
The house is non-descript, looking like every other damn house on the block. It’s rundown but still a few years before it would be considered needing to be condemned. It’s in a neighborhood where people turn their heads when they see shady shit going down because they expect the same thing when they’re up to no good.
Two men walk past, their heads bent over as they look at the baggie they just scored on the corner three blocks down.
No one pays attention to us. Hell, I’d bet we aren’t the only vehicle with people lurking inside even though I don’t see anyone else when I look around.
“Are we waiting for someone to leave or for someone to show up?” I ask.
He shrugs, the best response I could probably expect at this point.
“Does Angel think this is where Cortez will show up?”
“He better,” Fox growls.