Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Seems like that’s the only way.”
My phone buzzed, drawing my attention.
Alistair: Got plans for dinner tonight? I want you to see where I’m staying. You’ll know where to go if anything happens.
Me: Don’t think I can tonight. I’ve got a list of out-of-the-way cabins that I have to creep around at night, looking for a murderer.
Alistair: If you had sent that to any other father...
I laughed. It was weird how easily we fell into our own kind of rhythm. At first, it was hard for me to picture my serious, straitlaced, type A mother falling for the reckless troublemaker that was a young Alistair. I told him as much, and he scoffed and asked me what my Rogue boyfriends were like.
“No one wants to date a copy of themselves,” he had told me. “Average person has too much self-loathing for that.”
Don’t know that I’d put it that way, but it did make me think of what it’d be like to date four versions of the old, boring, boarding-school me.
I’d take my paranoid, explosive, bitey, growly assholes any day of the week.
Alistair: It’s important, Luna. We promised your mother last night that you’d be safe and wouldn’t do anything reckless. Stowing away in that beach house with single door locks, regular glass windows, and no alarm is the definition of reckless.
I wasn’t going to ask when he clocked Adonis’s security measures.
Alistair: You’ve got to get the pass from security for them to let you through the door. Let’s do that tonight so that after you run away in terror of the murderer in the woods, you can beat it straight here and be safe.
I audibly sighed. It’d still be nighttime after dinner. I might as well handle things with Alistair, then I’ll take up my disturbing task of creeping around the woods, looking for a killer.
Me: Cool. What’s the address?
Alistair: Ronin will drop you off. You done with the Langford girl?
“I’ve got to get going.” I gave up the journal and traded for the list. “I’ll check these out tonight. Here’s hoping you’re right about Everton refusing the other cabins.”
“I am right. I didn’t know him like that, but Everleigh wouldn’t shut up about him back then. He once threw out a pair of brand-new, five-thousand-dollar shoes because he got a scuff on them. He wouldn’t have locked himself away in any less than a mini-mansion.”
“Okay. Thanks for this, Katie.”
“Don’t underestimate me.” She met my surprise with a hard look. “I can do more than read old journals and mess around with GPS. Everleigh got Winter raped and tried to murder you. Because of what she did to Giovanni, Mom is so freaked she doesn’t want me farther than her shadow. She’ll pay for what she’s done.”
“I trust you, Katie. Don’t know why,” I muttered, “but I do. The main thing I need you to do is stick close to her, let her think you’re her friend, and give me inside details like this.” I gestured at the journal. “Everleigh’s too careful. I only found her Book Lady site because she gave it to me. Since I can’t rely on Wilder’s skills to find out what she’s up to, you’re perfect.”
“Always was, always will be. Now go.” I suddenly found myself being pushed toward the door. “I just found out I’ve wasted my life with a bunch of fake bitches. I need my man to come over and fuck the stress out of me.”
“Your man? Are you finally admitting Dean is your boyfriend?”
“Nope.” She deposited me on the porch and flicked the door closed. Just like that, I was dismissed.
Shaking my head, I left and met up with Ronin, who idled ten feet from the front gate. I tapped on the window, a shiver going up my spine when it slowly dropped down and revealed him.
The dragon tattoo needled into his skull was intimidating enough. Ronin had to build on his aura of mystery with dark, impenetrable shades; unsmiling, thin lips; and a crooked nose that told of a break—or three.
“Alistair said you’re taking me to his hotel or something. What should I do with my stepdad’s car?”
“Drive it back to your place.” A deep, bass tone flowed from his lips. “We’ll leave from there.”
“Sounds good.”
I did as he asked—driving back to Bowden Manor, dropping off the car, then walking out to slide in the back seat. Ronin took off, whisking me away to my father.
Ronin didn’t take the street that would carry us out of the mega-rich neighborhood my stepfather and mother were lucky to call home. He turned right, carrying us up a hill that brought us deeper into Royal territory.
Wonder if Alistair has something in common with his old friend. Looks like he refuses to hide away in anything less than a mansion. Plenty of those whisked by, each grander than the last. Maybe he’s holing up in a vacant home like you hear people do.