Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
But then his Range Rover screeches around the corner onto the main street, and his pace slows until he’s standing motionless in the middle of the road.
“Who the hell shot you?” Goldie asks, coming to me, inspecting my wound.
“Beau.” I rebutton my shirt and pull my coat back on, leaving the now useless vest on the ground.
“Beau shot you?” Ringo asks, once again looking at the others, checking to see if they heard the same as him.
“Oh, I’m not taking it personally.” I laugh, throwing my head back, feeling slightly demented. “She didn’t just shoot me; she shot her fiancé too.” I kick the vest away and pull out my smokes, lighting one and dragging in the nicotine, praying it’ll calm me. “Her dad left everything to his ex-girlfriend.”
“Amber?” Ringo asks, stunned.
Another puff as I nod. “Yes. She was seen nearby at the funeral. Looked like she was trying to conceal herself.”
“Why would she be there?”
Good fucking question. And why the fuck has she been calling me? I need to see you. “Higham was at the funeral too.” I go on. “You may have seen.” Another drag of my Marlboro. “Didn’t speak, but perhaps that’s because he’s worried we’re onto him and his little coffee dates with that journalist Natalia Potter. We also had a debut appearance from Collins. Weird-looking woman. The kind with a face you instantly want to punch.”
“Can you actually say that about a woman?” Fury asks.
God bless my soul. “Yes, I fucking can.” Especially when the woman in question is a fucking cop on our backs. “Along with Amber, Higham, and Collins, we also had Burrows.” Another long drag. I blow out the smoke to the sky. “He’s got a new woman. One that happens to be an attorney.” I wave my cigarette, thinking, thinking, thinking. “Jolene something. She knows every step he’s taken since he’s been off work.”
“That’s handy,” Otto grunts, getting his laptop out of the car and placing it on the roof of the Mercedes, starting to tap at the keys. “She’s turned the fucking tracker off on the Range Rover.” He slams the lid shut and rests his head on the roof. “That fucking woman.”
“Beau knows Cartwright’s dead,” I go on, “and now thinks Amber killed her dad for the inheritance and possibly Cartwright too.” I finish on a megawatt smile. “Oh, and we still don’t know WHO THE FUCKING BEAR IS!” I launch my fist into the window of the Mercedes, and the fucker resists, making it bounce back off. “Fuck!” The sound of my phone ringing saves the window from another attempt, and I shake my bastard fist as I slip my Marlboro between my lips and answer. “Hey, baby.”
“What’s happened?” Rose asks, as calm as could be.
“Nothing’s happened, my darling. I’ll be home for dinner. And I’ll need a hot soak in the bath.” I bravely hang up. I’ll be paying for it. But . . . fuck me.
“I suggest someone finds Amber before Beau does,” James says, out of breath as he stalks past us to Otto, holding his hand out for the keys to his car. “Or pray I find Beau first.”
“She killed the tracker.”
James laughs. It’s as demented as I feel. “Of course she fucking did!” He gets in, starts the engine, and pulls off fast before Otto’s put one foot in front of the other to join him. The car screeches off, and Otto’s laptop leaves the roof and flies across the carpark, smashing into a few million pieces when it hits the concrete. And Otto just stares at it. Stares and breathes deeply for a few minutes while we all watch him fighting to keep his cool. I have to hand it to him, he's doing a far better job of that than me or James.
Eventually, he collects up just one piece from the scattered remains of his laptop—the motherboard, no doubt—and faces us. “I need a lift home.”
“I’ll drop you at the gates.” Because if I step foot on the grounds of our house, Rose will be on me like a wolf and leaving again will likely cause World War III. I go to the remaining car and get behind the wheel.
“Where are you going?” Ringo asks, his crabby old face screwed up as if I’ve already answered that question and he doesn’t approve.
“To find any number of people who need to be found.” I start the car. “Brad, Amber, The Bear. Take your pick.”
“I’m coming with you,” Goldie declares as they all pile in the back.
“And me,” Ringo mutters.
“Can we stop off at Best Buy?” Otto asks as he slips onto the passenger seat, looking at me for an answer. He’s serious. He’s fucking serious.
“No, we can’t fucking stop at fucking Best Buy,” I yell, starting the car and slamming it into drive, screeching off.