Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
But, then I saw my dad, thinking he came to rescue me. He had a gun. But Dad didn’t shoot him, Tommy said, ‘Take her, I’m done with her,’ then Dad shot me and told me, while I watched my blood leaking everywhere, that I was too much trouble, that I’d weighed him down after Mom died and that’s why he’d tried to get rid of me. After several unsuccessful attempts he was going to get rid of me for good.
When I woke, it was four o’clock in the morning. Would this night ever end?
I got up to get a drink and the bar fridge had no water in it, so I put on a robe and decided to head to the kitchen. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard a loud voice in the kitchen. I stopped on the bottom step. It was Dario’s voice.
“We need to just wait. No, damn it! Don’t! Just circle and keep coming back.”
I stepped off the stairs and walked into the kitchen. He looked up at me and then said, “Call me in 30 minutes with an update. Or sooner if there’s any change.” He ended the call. “You all right?”
I nodded. “I’m just thirsty.” I got a bottle of water from the fridge. “Is Tommy okay?”
Dario waved his hand at me, saying, “Of course,” but I could see the stress on his face.
“I’m going to try to go back to sleep,” I said.
He nodded, not looking me in the eyes.
Surprisingly, I did fall back asleep, but was awake around 9:15. I got up and took a shower and when I came back into the bedroom just in a towel I froze because I noticed Dario was asleep on the couch here in this room. He was asleep in a t-shirt and track pants, the first time I’d seen him not in a suit. He was quite built, a lot like Tommy. I didn’t let my eyes linger on him for long, not wanting to look like a creep watching him while he slept. Clearly, he took his job of protecting me seriously if he was sleeping here instead of one of the bazillion guest rooms.
I rushed into the closet to find some clothes and got dressed in there. When I came out, he wasn’t on the couch any longer. I went downstairs and looked out the window and I saw three men mulling about outside. I got a coffee and sat at the kitchen table with yesterday’s newspaper to kill time.
Sarah came in from the back hallway, a laundry basket filled with folded towels on her hip and ear buds in her ears. She was singing a pop song. She smiled when she spotted me and pulled a bud out.
“Breakfast?”
I shook my head, “Not yet. Thanks. I’ll just get myself something when I’m ready.”
She smiled and wagged her finger at me. “Don’t put me out of a job, Chiquita!” She headed out of the kitchen and upstairs, I presumed.
I decided to wander around. I saw it lacked a homey feeling. It was decorated sort of man cave’ish like the master bedroom with leather and dark wood and drab-colored or neutral walls without family pictures or art on the walls. There weren’t any mementoes; it was sort of sterile. I opened a door in the hall off the kitchen and found two other bedrooms. One was sort of utilitarian with a single bed, nightstand with a lamp and then a table with four chairs and a coffee maker, fridge, sink, and stove so I assumed it was for the guards. There was a patio door in that room that led to the backyard. The other room I didn’t venture into as it was obviously Sarah’s room.
It was large and had a warm vibe, decorated with cream and burgundy furnishings and dark cherry wood. The dresser was filled with framed photos and she also had a sitting area with a coffee table fanned with books and magazines.
I found my way outside, deciding to get some fresh air. I spotted a guard in the yard, but he left the area when I went out. Good that they were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but it was so obvious that the place was under lockdown and that everyone was on edge. I sat at the pool’s edge and dangled my feet in, staring out at the forest beyond the pool.
I heard a voice in the kitchen, so I strained to listen. Dario was on the phone again.
“I don’t give a fucking shit!” he yelled. “Find him!”
He stormed out onto the patio, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, putting his phone into his pocket (he was already dressed in a fresh suit) and then he lit it as he spotted me. His expression dropped and he inhaled deeply, as if the smoke was cleansing him.