Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“I’ll ask him about it,” I say.
He scoffs. “Yeah, like he’s going to admit it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I know how to get the truth out of him. And if he took it—”
“He took it. And I don’t even care about the cash, but I need my driver’s license. This is life or death. I have to be on that plane tomorrow at seven a.m., and I can’t fly without my license.”
I can feel this guy’s desperation to get his license back. But there’s still a chance he’s wrong and Zane didn’t take his wallet.
“If you give me your number—”
“No way. What time do you get off work?”
“That’s none of your business.”
His glare returns. “I want to be there when you talk to your kid.”
That’s not happening. I can hear my grandma’s voice in my head, telling me no good deed goes unpunished. Why did I stop to help this guy this morning?
“No. You’re not coming to my house. I don’t even know you.”
He takes out his cell phone. “You’re leaving me no choice but to call the cops.”
My heart rate kicks up. “No. Don’t do that. Just try to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t know you. You could be trying to scam me right now.”
He sighs and returns to his phone, typing something. After a few seconds, he turns the phone screen around to show it to me.
“This is me. Dominic Locke. I play for the Colorado Coyotes.”
I look between the face on the screen and the man standing in front of me. His dark hair is slightly longer now, but the face is the same—handsome with a side of smug. I take out my phone and enter the name he gave me into Google.
“What, you don’t believe me?” he asks.
“That could be a screenshot of something you made up.”
“Christ,” he mumbles. “Am I gonna have to get fingerprinted just to get my wallet back?”
My internet search confirms that he actually is Dominic Locke. I take my own screenshot.
“Okay, fine, Dominic.”
“It’s Dom.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Anyway, I’m going to send this screenshot to my sister and several friends and let them know I’m with you right now. So if anything happens, lots of people will know to tell the police it was you.”
He throws his hands in the air. “I’m not the criminal here. I just want my fucking wallet back. Send your screenshot to whoever you want.”
I only send the screenshot to my sister, but I’m not telling him that. Then I put my phone in my pocket and reach behind myself to untie my apron.
“I can leave work now. Did you drive here?”
“No, because someone told me not to drive my car.”
“She sounds smart. You can ride with me and then catch an Uber.”
He gets his phone out and takes a picture of me before I even know what’s going on.
“What’s your legal name and social security number? I’m sending this to some teammates in case I turn up dead so the police know it was you.”
“My name’s Tess Fuck You Asshole. Wait here.”
His laugh is humorless. “So you can sneak out the back door? I don’t think so, Ms. Asshole.”
I can’t lose my cool inside my workplace, so I ignore him as he follows me inside. Deb is standing behind the bar, and she looks between the two of us.
“Everything okay, Tess?”
I meet her gaze, wishing I could tell her about the audacity of the dickhead next to me. “Is it okay if I leave early? It’s an emergency.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll finish up your tables.” She narrows her eyes on Dom, a scowl slowly growing.
“Thanks.” I walk behind the counter and pass her my order pad, then go back to the kitchen and get my purse and jacket from the attached break room.
Dom’s waiting for me with a cross expression when I return. I don’t even look at him as I walk out the diner’s front door, heading for my van. I had to park a block over today because the lot behind the diner was full.
He follows me to my minivan, and I force myself to ignore the nonstop buzzing of my phone. I know it’s my sister Cam blasting me with messages about the photo of Dom I sent her.
When we reach my car, I unlock my door with my key, get in and then lean over to manually unlock his door.
“You don’t need to lock this thing,” he says as he gets in. “You could drive it to the hood, put a Steal Me sign on the front of it and leave the doors wide open and thieves would just drive right by it.”
I give him an icy look. “Like you know shit about the hood. At least I can change my own oil and I know white smoke means my transmission’s leaking. Are your balls just microscopic, or do you not have any?”