Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 90772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
He struggles for breath, trying to fill his lungs around some presumably broken ribs. I use the hand that’s not holding him against the wall to punch the places I kicked. He spits up some blood, but he is finally trying to talk.
“Okay, okay, okay. O’Leary sent me. He knows you’re looking for him, and he knows why.” I loosen the grip on his chest and let him breathe a little easier. Just hearing his name makes my blood boil. “He heard you got out, and he’s been further underground ever since. I never even saw him. Just used burner phones for texts. Carter, man, you gotta believe me. He’s got a hold of my family. I had to do it.” He’s crying now and I try not to roll my eyes.
“Today’s your lucky day, Frankie. I’m gonna let you live long enough to tell him payback’s coming. You do what you gotta do to contact him, but when that happens, you tell him he better be ready. Hell’s coming.” I drop Frankie to the ground and walk away.
It’s night out and as I walk to my car I look at my phone to see if I’ve gotten my daily text from Saint. He’s late with his update and it’s pissing me off. He fucking knows better than to keep me waiting when it comes to her. He hasn’t ever been late before and I’ve got a sick feeling in my stomach that something is wrong.
When I check the screen it shows I’ve got a missed call from his number. I’m guessing Frankie was bleeding too loud for me to hear it ring.
I call it back immediately and he answers on the first ring. I’m already yelling at him when I hear it connect, “About fucking time you called me, I was…”
Saint cuts me off with the sentence I’ve been both waiting for and dreading to hear, “Carter. Get here. Now.”
LAYLA
“Think he knows?” I ask, trying to adjust to a more comfortable position in this damn hospital bed. It’s like they try to make them as uncomfortable as possible.
Jeanette nods her head and takes a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, I saw Saint in the hall when I was talking to the cops.”
Then Carter must know. It’s all I can think of. I wonder if he’ll come. Probably not. I’m sure Saint told him he’d knocked me up over a month ago, and if that didn’t bring him back, some stupid car accident won’t. Why would he care that I’m laid up in a hospital bed when he doesn’t even care that I’m having his baby. I’m ashamed that I had this ridiculous fantasy of him storming into the hospital room, picking me up and begging me to let him back into my life. He’d tell me we’d be a perfect family and he’d never leave me again. My daydreams are even more ridiculous because I don’t think Carter has ever begged for anything in his life.
“Did he say anything to you?” I ask.
“Nope. I just flipped him the bird so I think he got the message.”
I’m not sure who Jeanette’s trying to convince. We all know Saint hasn’t gotten the message. He hasn’t gotten it for the last month. He’s been trying and failing to get close to Jeanette again. Taking off her jacket and opening her purse, she starts freshening up her make-up and I know I’m more than likely in for a show: the Jeanette and Saint show.
“Your doctor is smoking hot, don’t you think?” she offers while applying some lip gloss.
I know what she’s doing. I actually get it. She’s trying to pretend that she isn’t doing this for him, because she hates him. No one understands that more than I do.
“I wasn’t paying much attention really, but’s he all yours,” I say, wondering if she’ll really make a play for him. For the past month she’s been dressing in the most provocative clothes she can find. She does her hair and make-up and then waits for Saint to show up, and he always shows up. On top of that, she’s been flirting with every guy within reach. Normally it leads to a giant fight that results in both Jeanette and Saint storming off.
“I just want to get out of here. This bed is hurting my ass,” I complain, wanting the nurse to hurry up with my discharge papers. These clinical blue walls are killing my eyes. All I really had was a bump on my head, so I was reluctant to go to the hospital at first but I wanted to make sure the baby was okay. I didn’t want to take the slightest risk so early in my pregnancy. The doctor said both the baby and I were fine. I hit my head on my steering wheel when I ran into a pole. Thank God I wasn’t going any faster when my brakes went out. I just have a bump that will probably turn a pretty purple by tomorrow.
Leaning over me, Jeanette pushes the call button to get someone to come to our room. Instead, a voice comes over the speaker
“Miss Matthews, what can I do for you?”
“She wants out of here is what you can do for her. You said you were doing the papers over an hour ago,” Jeanette says in the same no-bullshit tone she gives kids at library when they’re acting out.
“Just five more minutes and you’ll be on your way,” the nurse soothes before dropping the line.
“Ask and you shall receive, Lays,” Jeanette says graciously and starts to get all my stuff together.
“Do you think it’s weird that my brakes went out and my air bag didn’t go off?” I’ve been thinking this since the cops starting asking questions. I hate being scared. I thought I was passed that now.
“With Saint popping up everywhere like a fucking jack-in-the-box, I think you’re fine,” she responds and I’m not sure if she’s telling me the truth or trying to keep me calm. “Hey, I’ll stay with you if you like. We can have a little slumber party.”