Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
It? It took a second for Dominic to realize he was referring to Brynn. “Oh. Master bedroom, up the stairs to the left.”
Boaz turned, heading for the stairs. Dominic followed him, and when they made it to the room, he watched Boaz flip Brynn’s body over and press two gloved fingers to her neck to check her pulse.
“Pulse is faint. She’s still alive.”
“What?” Dominic blanched. He thought surely Brynn was dead. She hadn’t moved an inch. He thought so—then again, he hadn’t really checked. He’d left her body in the bedroom and waited in the den until Boaz’s arrival. He assumed she was dead with all that blood on the wooden floor. The blood had rolled toward the rug, staining the oatmeal-colored carpet.
Something buzzed, and Dominic looked across the room, at Brynn’s purse on the side table, next to the NDA. Boaz glanced at Dominic before moving toward the purse. He pulled out the phone with his gloved hand and pressed a button to turn the phone off before stuffing it back in the purse.
“What the hell am I supposed to do if she’s alive?” Dominic asked, but Boaz ignored him and stood straight, lumbering out of the house. He stomped down the stairs and Dominic rushed after him, making sure to jump over the puddle of blood as he went. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Boaz didn’t answer and instead went to his truck, climbed inside, and started it up.
“Fuck.” Dominic was sure Boaz was leaving. Brynn wasn’t dead. This would be his problem. He watched as Boaz put the car in reverse and straightened up, so the back of his truck was facing the porch. He’d parked at an angle so that the front of the truck blocked the door. Then he climbed out, squeezed between the truck and one of the porch columns, and stepped inside again.
“Stay down here,” Boaz commanded, then he disappeared up the stairs. Dominic stood in the foyer, listening to the sound of heavy scraping and thumping. Was he moving furniture? He had the urge to go up and see what was happening but knew better than to make a move.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally heard Boaz’s footfalls on the stairs, but he wasn’t coming down empty-handed. He had the bedroom’s rug in hand, rolled into a cylinder, and was grunting as he dragged it down. There was a body inside the rug—he could see the hair sticking out the top corner.
Boaz stopped, dropped the heavy rug, then fixed his eyes on Dominic. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a pair of plastic gloves and tossing them to him.
“Put those on and help me put the rug in the bed of the truck.”
Dominic did as he was told, and as Boaz picked up the heavier end of the rug, Dominic went for the feet. They ambled out of the door, Dominic grunting as he moved, until Boaz slid his end of the rug onto the bed. He helped Dominic push the rest of it up then closed the hatch.
“Now what?” Dominic breathed. Because surely this couldn’t be it. There was bound to be blood upstairs, his DNA. John’s DNA.
“That fireplace work?” Boaz asked, pointing to the living room.
Dominic peered back at the cold, empty fireplace. “I’m sure it does.”
“Good. Find some wood, burn those gloves and your clothes, take a shower, and put a fresh set of clothes on. I’ll deal with the body. Someone will be here tonight around nine or ten. He’ll clean up the bedroom, make it look like she was never here. Do not leave until I call you.” He stepped outside, pointing at the cameras. “You’re sure all the cameras are off?”
“Yes. I’m positive.”
“Whose house is this?”
“John Bolton. He’s a politician here in New Orleans. He was here last night, and he has a lot on the line. Last thing he wanted was to be seen so he made sure to have the security system and cameras off during my stay.” Plus, Dominic made sure. He’d called John to double check about the cameras when he’d prepared Brynn’s apple juice, and that’s when he’d given John the greenlight to swing by.
“Okay, well like I said, don’t leave until I call. And if I were you, I’d get in touch with this John Bolton character and tell him not to mention you were ever in his rental.”
“Why? Do you think people will know she was here?”
Boaz glared at Dominic. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
Dominic watched Boaz as he picked up a tarp from the back of the truck and covered the rug. He strapped it down with bungee cords, lugged out the trunk bed cover, and when it was secure and everything was concealed, he climbed behind the wheel and started the truck. The engine rumbled to life, causing a vibration in Dominic’s chest. The truck pulled off and he stood at the door, watching it leave the driveway, move past the gate, and turn onto the street.