Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Christ.
What was wrong with me?
I didn't worry about clients this way.
I worried about them in general, of course.
And I sure as shit worried about if their loose lips would spill the secrets, if their actions would seem suspicious, if anything they did to screw up their lives could lead back to me.
But this felt different. This felt oddly personal.
This felt like a rolling in my gut that I did not get with regards to work unless there was a gun pointed at me.
I was invested.
Which would not stand.
I needed to get my head on right.
I needed a good meal, my own place, and some decent fucking sleep.
I would feel normal again then.
Or so I was telling myself.
--
"Quin," Jules's voice called, a little sharper than usual, like maybe she had called me once already without a response. Which, given how zoned out I felt, that was possible.
There was a first time for everything, I guess.
"Yeah?" I asked, whipping the chair around to where she was standing at the edge of my desk, a coffee in one hand, a file in another. One of her deep red brows were lifted. "Yeah, I know. I'm off my game today," I admitted before she could call me on it.
"That wouldn't have anything to do with the pretty brunette with blue eyes sleeping right above your head, would it?"
"Normally, I love your sass, Jules. Today, keep a cap on it," I told her, not unkindly. She was smart and secure enough not to get offended when one of us was prickly. Anyone who said female coworkers had mood swings clearly never worked in an office full of guys before. There wasn't a day of the week when someone wasn't in a sour ass mood.
"Alright, alright. Touchy," she said, smirking as she handed me my coffee. "Any idea what she might like from the Chinese place?" she asked producing a notebook. This woman always had a notebook and pen on her. Where the hell she kept it was beyond me since - more often than not - she was in a dress. "I already got everyone else. And I know what you like."
"She seems to like the entire menu," I said with a shrug, having briefly noticed that she circled items on her menus before she ordered.
Jules scribbled something down, then moved toward the door before turning back. "Hey Quin..."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for taking on her case."
"It was smart for you to press it," I shot back, and she took what was some of the best praise she could expect from me with a small lip curving.
"Dinner should be here in thirty."
After that, the men trickled in, all of them with the files I had given them before, but thicker thanks to their research.
"Well," Kai said into the silence of the men scattered around the room. "Are you going to go get her or what?"
"Oh, right," I said, exhaling.
Seriously.
I needed some sleep.
The coffee was clearly not cutting it with my lack of forethought.
I got up out of my chair, and made my way to the second floor, listening a little intently as I made my way down the hall, wanting to make sure I wasn't interrupting if she was finally letting the dam break.
I knocked on the door three times, then called her name twice.
Beginning to worry, I went in search of the override key, letting myself in. But she was okay. She hadn't fractured under the pressure and slit her wrists or downed the bottle of aspirin in the bathroom. That sounded dramatic. But it wouldn't even be the first suicide attempt this month.
No.
She was out cold on top of the bed, not even bothering to pull the sheets down to climb under. Her hair, now dry, was splayed over the pillowcase, shiny, soft-looking, the kind of hair begging you to run your fingers through.
I found myself balling my hand up to avoid doing something that ridiculous as I approached.
"Aven," I called, getting no response, making my focus go to her chest that was rising and falling evenly.
Most people didn't sleep this well in new places. I imagined it was simply because she was completely worn out, body and mind. Her brain was just shutting it all down. And as much as I wanted to allow her that, I knew we had to get the meeting over with.
"Aven," I tried again, touching my hand to her knee.
You would have thought that I had poked her with a cattle prod. Her entire body shut upward on the bed as her breath drew inward on a gasp.
"Easy," I said, keeping my voice calm, soothing. "It's me. Quin," I added, figuring maybe her half-asleep brain didn't put two and two together that quickly. "It's okay; you're safe," I tried when her unfocused eyes went huge, and her breathing got more hitched. "Breathe," I demanded as she rose a shaky hand to push her hair out of her face.