Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“No point creating a witness,” I mutter grimly. “What direction did he go? Dammit, give me something.”
“North,” Peters hisses. “I’m sorry—someone’s coming, if anyone overhears—”
“You’ll disappear next.”
“Or end up like Cora.” There’s grief in his whisper. “Please, Officer Ainsley. Please, hurry.”
He hangs up before I can thank him.
I stare down at my blank screen.
Cold sweat slicks my brow.
My heart feels like someone’s drilling screws into it.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he aims to kill Talia.
I just have to hope he’s more focused on making his shipping window first, to buy us some time.
I want to fucking call her.
I want to hear her voice, to know she’s alive. Only, if she’s in a delicate situation and her phone rings, if she can’t silence it, if I endanger her—
No, I can’t take the risk.
“Micah?” Grant growls. “What’s wrong?”
I snap up from zoning out, looking at the three men who stare back resolutely.
“Bad news. Xavier and the Jacobins have a hostage,” I snarl.
“Talia Grey?” Henri whispers.
I can only nod.
Lucas and Henri both wince, dissolving into curses.
Grant’s stormy expression hardens into death.
“He’s taking her to Mariposa Cove, I assume?”
“Maybe,” I say, but there’s doubt eating me. “Can we risk it if he’s not? What if he dumps her off somewhere along the way, and we miss our chance to stop him because we’re chasing him to the docks?”
It takes a second for the raw desperation in my own voice to sink in.
My throat’s tight, scratchy, hurting.
I feel like I’ve caught Talia’s asthma.
But I can’t be wrong.
I can’t let him hurt her.
I love her too goddamned much and she doesn’t even know it.
“Hey.” Grant steps closer and claps one big hand to my shoulder, his steady gaze locking on me and holding me firm. “Trust your instincts, man. What are they telling you?”
My jaw clenches.
I stop as my phone buzzes again in my palm.
This time, no ringtone.
It’s the safety app I made Talia install.
It lights up, blinking with a GPS location pinpointing an emergency signal, somewhere east of Raleigh and speeding up the coast.
It’s not just urgency erupting inside me now.
It’s hope.
My fingers clutch the phone until they burn.
“My instincts say we’re damned lucky Talia Grey is a fucking genius,” I say breathlessly. “Load up. We’ll cut them off at Mariposa Cove.”
23
SHOT IN THE DARK (TALIA)
Minutes Earlier
Idon’t think I’m dead.
But everything is black.
Pitch-black.
So black that if I couldn’t feel my eyelids moving, I wouldn’t know my eyes were open at all. This is what death must feel like, this lightless darkness that swallows everything.
But if I’m dead, I don’t think my head would hurt so much.
I don’t think it would rattle my bones every time I’m jolted around.
My arms and legs definitely wouldn’t be this sore.
Plus, I don’t think being dead involves getting locked in the trunk of someone’s car.
I can hear the engine, the shift in tone as it changes speed, the whizzing of tires over asphalt.
There’s a faint whiff of gasoline and oil, too, that subtle hint that clings to even the cleanest car.
I think there’s carpet under me.
When the momentum throws me around, I touch round things that feel like wheel caps. My arms and legs are tied behind my back.
Nope, I’m not dead.
But if Xavier Arrendell has me tied up in his trunk, that’s going to change pretty fast.
Okay.
Don’t panic.
If I panic, I’ll just trigger an asthma attack, and passing out earlier killed any chance I had to run. If I get a second chance, I can’t miss it.
I close my eyes—not that it makes much difference—and focus on counting. Measuring my breaths. Controlling my fear.
It’s more than just fending off an attack at this point.
It’s a calming ritual. It's—
I freeze as my fingertips brush something against my back.
Something with a textured weave, something that feels like—
The nylon strap of my bag?
Oh.
Oh, crap, if Xavier didn’t take my phone out, if he didn’t mess with it…
I might be able to signal Micah.
Hope blooms in my chest.
Grunting with exertion, I wiggle backward, fighting the way the car bounces me around and trying to dig my feet in to brace myself.
I fumble blindly. My wrists are tied but my fingers can still move. I manage to snag a fold of fabric, dragging the bag closer.
With my teeth clenched, I feel around until I find the zipper, then tug, lose my grip, swear, catch it, tug, lose it again, nearly scream, try again and then—
There!
The zipper opens.
Just enough for me to plunge my fists inside.
No time for finesse.
I don’t know how long I have before Mr. Congeniality decides to stop and take care of his annoying Talia Grey problem.
My pulse kicks up as I rummage around, feeling for the edge of my phone.
Got it!
I’m not someone who prays, but you’d better believe I do it right now.
Pray that the app screen stays active for situations like this.