Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“Probably sucking some guy’s—” The guy began coughing, then started laughing again.
Remy lurched to his feet. The expression on his face tore at my insides.
I knew that expression.
I’d carried it for eight years.
Remy took several steps back from the man. All the fight he’d shown a moment earlier drained out of him.
No.
That was the only thing going through my mind over and over. That single word.
No.
I reached down and grabbed the man by his hair and pulled my Glock from my back where it was covered by the long jacket I was wearing. The man, who’d initially cried out when I’d snagged him by the hair, began whimpering when I pressed the gun to his forehead. He closed his eyes and put out his good hand. “No, please, no, no.”
“Tell him what he wants to know,” I said coldly.
I was in my element now. This was what I knew how to do. Granted, these days I didn’t have to use a gun to get what I wanted out of an opponent, but admittedly, the cool, sleek metal felt good in my hand.
It was easy… and honest.
I didn’t need to pretend or bluff or bullshit. There was no wheeling and dealing.
I didn’t look at Remy, but I could sense his tension… or maybe it was shock. I wasn’t sure. But he didn’t say anything or try to stop me.
When all the man did was continue to whimper and whine, I pressed the gun harder against his temple.
It was Remy who said, “Where is she, Taz?”
“I don’t know!”
The second I shifted my weight just a little, he yelled, “That crazy bitch took her. Said she was gonna take care of her.”
“Carla?” Remy asked as he stepped closer. “Are you talking about Carla?”
Taz nodded emphatically. “Bitch didn’t even last an hour before she was try’n to sell her.”
“Oh God,” Remy breathed. His knees actually began to buckle. I released my hold on the man and reached for Remy and put my arm around his waist. I was stunned when he grabbed onto me to stay upright. I kept my gun pointed at Taz who was once again lying flat on the ground.
“Where is this woman?” I asked. I had no clue what Remy and Taz were talking about, but Remy clearly needed to find this Carla person.
“Don’t know,” Taz muttered tiredly.
When I took a step toward him, he quickly added, “Last I heard, she was hanging out at The Palace.”
“The Palace?” I asked in confusion.
It was Remy who answered me. “It’s an abandoned warehouse down by the water.”
I was actually disappointed when Remy pushed away from me. He still seemed wobbly, but that was clearly preferable to him than having any kind of physical contact with me.
I couldn’t really blame him.
Remy began striding out of the alley.
I ignored the man on the ground and turned to follow him. I tucked my gun at my back and picked up my pace so I could catch up to Remy. Not surprisingly, he didn’t acknowledge my presence.
“Who’s Carla?”
Remy ignored me. I fell silent as I walked next to him. I expected him to eventually respond to my presence, but it was like I wasn’t even there.
I almost laughed when I finally got his silent message.
He’d forgotten about me.
Or at least, he was trying to.
We walked for a good two minutes before I noticed Remy’s agitation building. He was no longer looking around like he had when I’d been following him. No, this time his eyes were straight ahead and he kept reaching one hand up to rub his opposite arm in what seemed like some kind of self-soothing motion.
“Remy,” I said as I reached for him. My intent had been to offer comfort, but when he quickly stepped out of my reach, I felt my stomach drop out. I knew it was what I deserved, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. I dropped my hand and kept pace with him, but I did so silently.
His distress seemed to grow with each hurried step, but it wasn’t until he let out a little sniffle and wrapped his arms around his upper body that I reached for my phone. I doubted he even heard the quick conversation I had with the person on the other end because when the black Jaguar passed us and pulled up to the curb ahead of us, Remy didn’t even seem to notice.
It was proof that he was somewhere deep inside his own head.
This time when I grabbed his arm, Remy wasn’t quick enough to side-step the move. I led him to the car.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice going high and panic-filled within seconds.
“This is my car—” I began as I motioned to the car and the two stern men who’d gotten out of it. One was holding the back door open while the other was monitoring our surroundings.