Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Tor comes back out of the bathroom in different clothes—all black, a long-sleeved shirt and sweats, and a black beanie on his head.
“Do you know where you’re going to ditch the gun?” I ask.
“Yeah, but you don’t need to know. Frankly, the less you know, the better.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Tor. I really don’t want you to get in trouble. I know you’ll already be in trouble for lying for me, but at this point, I think I’m a sinking ship, and you should probably jump off.”
“Nah. I’m a strong swimmer,” he says, flashing me a smile as he grabs the black shoes and starts putting them on.
“I can’t get out of this,” I state, staring at him until he looks back at me.
He ties the shoe, his gaze meeting mine. “Let’s just get through tonight, all right? We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
I nod, but it’s hard to stay in the present when my future is so bleak.
“I’m gonna head out. There are a few mini bottles of alcohol in my bag if you want them. Want me to get you some ice?”
I shake my head. “I can get it. I brought a couple of bottles of water in my bag.”
“Okay. Just make sure you go now. Once you’re back in the room, don’t leave again. I don’t want the card to keep being scanned. I want it to look like we’re staying in together.”
That makes sense. I go over to grab the ice bucket.
“Is Russell left or right-handed?” he asks.
I frown, looking up at him. “What?”
He’s pulling on a black leather glove. “I know you’re a lefty, but you used his gun. Is he a lefty, too?”
“No. He’s… right-handed.”
“Did he show you how to shoot it?”
I nod uncertainly.
“Does he have other guns?”
I nod again.
“Why’d he give you this one?”
“I… asked for something quiet.”
He nods slowly, his gaze lingering on mine before he asks, “Do you think he told anyone about being at your house tonight?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
His nod turns thoughtful, but only for a split second. Then he grabs something else out of his bag—something small and black—and says, “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
I grab my key card and follow him out, feeling safer with him still close. I have to go toward the lobby to get ice, then I hurry back to the room and lock myself inside. Since he said he won’t be using the key card, I flip the extra lock as well, just to be safe.
I’m not much of a drinker, to be honest. In the past, I’ve had drinks in certain social situations when everyone else was drinking, but the one last summer…
I didn’t like not being in my right mind after that.
I didn’t like waking up the next day wondering how the previous night might have gone if I’d been entirely in control of myself.
Deep down, I know it probably wouldn’t have gone any differently because by the time my eyes opened, he was already inside me. But maybe if I hadn’t been drinking, I wouldn’t have wandered into that bedroom and fallen asleep. I wouldn’t have been so vulnerable.
I shake off the thoughts, not wanting to think about Timothy Walters on my last night as a free woman, and I dig around in Tor’s bag for the alcohol. There are plastic cups wrapped in baggies on the counter by the sink. Tor came prepared, packing alcohol and a bottle of orange juice, so I dump some into one of the small cups and fill it the rest of the way with the liquor.
I turn on some music but keep the volume low. I skip around a little until I find a song that suits my mood—something haunting and melodic, something dramatic and maybe a little romantic, but in a dark way. Something made for the love stories that don’t end well.
I don’t want to be guarded tonight. I want to be vulnerable. What a waste it would be to spend my last night guarded.
Tor’s alcohol helps, and the music soothes my nerves. I drink until my vision is unstable and my mood is light despite everything happening in my life. If it’s my last night of freedom, I damn well want to feel free.
Unfortunately, alcohol makes me sleepy.
I drift off, forgetting to turn off the music so I’ll hear Tor’s call.
I jolt awake to something vibrating against my face. I flinch instantly at the brightness, then I pull back and see the burner phone is ringing. Clumsily, I grab it and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Let me in.”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
I drag myself out of bed, head throbbing. I need to get one of those bottles of water.
I let Tor in first.
The music is still playing. I don’t realize it until Tor cocks an eyebrow and glances toward the bed. “A Taylor Swift kind of night, huh?”