Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
So what if they do? I can’t deal with this right now. I place Beau’s hand gently on the bed and stand. “I need a piss.” And to splash my burning face. “Watch her.” I open the door and locate Lawrence on the chair down the hall, giving him a gesture to suggest he’s now welcome. He’s in the room fast, probably worried I’ll change my mind. Oliver Burrows, however, wisely stays back. “You can leave.” I say to him, cold and brittle.
“Over my dead body.”
I step toward him. “It can be arranged.”
“Who are you? Where’s Dexter?”
“Are you here as Beau’s concerned ex, or an FBI agent?” I advance, getting threateningly close to him. “Forget about who I am or what I do. Dexter killed Jaz Hayley. Fuck off and investigate that.” I turn to Goldie. “Do not leave this room.”
“I’ll come with you,” Otto says, pushing his back from the wall.
“No, you’ll watch the door.”
“Fuck you, James. I’m coming with you.”
My jaw goes into spasm. “Am I not making myself fucking clear? Watch the motherfucking door, Otto.”
He’s up in my face in a heartbeat and, fuck me, I’m caught off guard, which means he gets me against the wall with ease, his pierced face close to mine. “I’ve not spent years protecting your arse so you can go to the fucking toilet in a fucking hospital and be taken the fuck out. You hearing me? Goldie’s in there. The girl is safe. I’m coming to the God damn toilet with you, and if I say I want to hold your fucking dick while you take a piss because it’s safer that way, you will God damn let me. Am I making myself clear?”
Well, fuck me. “Crystal,” I say quietly, and he shoves me as he releases me, straightening himself out. He’s stressed. I’ve never been on the receiving end of Otto’s temper, and I know I’ll avoid it in future.
“Good.” He nods. “Let’s go.”
“Who the hell are you people?” Beau’s ex backs up the corridor, his eyes wide as he makes his escape.
“Fools,” Otto grunts, striding away, leaving me to follow. I tail him a few paces behind, giving him space. “Hurry the fuck up,” he mutters, edgy.
Opening the door for me, he ushers me inside and loiters while I take a piss. I pull my dick out, my body heavy with stress. “Want to hold it?” I ask, my eyebrows high. He stops pacing and throws a scowl at me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m amused.
I finish up, wash my hands, and we head back, silent, our boots creating rhythmic thumps as we walk the corridor. I feel the tension leave me the closer I get back to Beau, but before I get to her door, my mobile rings. I pull it out of my pocket, looking down at the screen. “I need to take this,” I say, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside her room. “Spittle.”
“Beau Hayley.”
“What about her?”
“She was seen driving away from the scene of Agent Nathan Butler’s and two cops’ murders in Butler’s car. It’s been found burnt out. Care to enlighten me?”
“You’re rather close to the latest police news considering you’re retired, Spittle.”
He laughs. “Fuck my life. Did you get my message?”
“The one involving me meeting you?” I find my fists clenching. “What part of enigma don’t you understand?” What’s his goal here? I don’t know, but one thing I’ve learned about Spittle is that he can’t be trusted. But he’s still useful. Until I kill him.
I hang up and push my hands into my knees, using energy I shouldn’t be wasting to stand, and push my way into the room, coming to a screaming halt when I see a man by Beau’s bedside. Tom Hayley.
“How the hell did this happen?” Beau’s father directs his question at me and me alone, his chest puffy. He’s lucky I’m conserving energy, or I’d put his head through the nearest window. Getting no answer from me, he looks at Lawrence, who only shakes his head, losing control of his lip again. “I want answers,” he bellows, yanking out his phone and dialing. He paces up and down a few times before cursing and hanging up. “What’s the fucking use having a cop in the family if you can’t get hold of them in an emergency? Where the hell is Dexter?”
I laugh out loud. I don’t mean to, but the prick is comical. “I suggest you get yourself a coffee and calm the fuck down,” I warn, and he recoils.
“Excuse me?”
I pace forward slowly, and he starts to back up. I need an outlet for this unrestrained wrath, and it looks like it’s just arrived. Goldie steps in front of me. She doesn’t need to say anything. Her look says it all. Not here. Not now.