Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I’m standing in line waiting to check out when a flash of pink catches my eye. I squat down to inspect it closer, smiling when I realize it’s a pink leather keychain with the word princess and a crown embroidered into it. I toss it into my cart without a second thought. It’s so perfectly Scarlet, and as it turns out, I just so happen to like buying her things. Who knew?
A well-spent thousand bucks and some change later, I’m on way to the Guardians of Fortune office to check in with Silas and see what tasks he has for me this week.
I also want to talk to him about some tracking devices for Scarlet, because there’s no guarantee she’ll always have her phone on her, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
I manage to score street parking within walking distance and make it inside with five minutes to spare.
“Ellis.” Silas looks up when I walk in. “Status update?”
I give him a quick rundown of where everything stands with Scarlet—well, the pertinent info, anyway; he doesn’t need to know I’ve made her scream my name the past two night. A, because it’s fucking private and B, because the smug shit would never let it go.
“I do want to ask about tracking options.” I pull my phone from my pocket and open the app. Her little pink dot pings at Totto. “Obviously, I have her location on my phone, but I want back up options.”
Silas nods. “Smart man. I’d suggest something on her car, in her bag, and in her shoes. Maybe some jewelry, too.”
“Point me toward the best place to purchase.”
He grins. “Right here, brother.” He stands from his desk chair and nods for me to follow him as he heads for the built-in cabinets lining the back of room. “Top of the line, long range, and most importantly, discreet.”
“Perfect. Let me get everything you mentioned, but two for her shoes.”
“Done.” He plucks the items I need from two different drawers. “And before you even ask, there’s no direct cost to you unless they get damaged or destroyed.”
“Thanks.” I accept the offered items, placing them down on his desk. “What about the—”
“Jewelry? This way.” He shuffles down to the far end of the room, opening a tall cabinet. “Bracelet, necklace, or ring?”
Everything in me grinds to a halt at the mention of a ring. Not that kind, dipshit, I try to reason with myself, but it’s too late. I’m already picturing her sassy, sexy self in white walking down the aisle.
Get a fucking grip. You’re certainly not marrying Scarlet fucking Armstrong.
“This is my mother’s fault,” I mutter under my breath, but of course, Silas hears me.
“What is?”
I shove my fingers through my hair. “Nothing. Let’s do a necklace.” After all, it worked for Atlas…
Silas studies me for a minute before turning back to the display case. “We have a few options…”
I finger through the various choices before settling on a simple gold chain with a pink butterfly pendant. “This one.”
“Good choice. It has a built-in panic button feature.” He secures the necklace in a small bag and passes it my way. “Now, let’s talk about what I need from you today.”
“Yes, please.” I rub my hands together, ready to finally dig into my new job.
“Don’t get too excited. This week’s going to be a lot of grunt work. Not to mention, your hands are pretty full with your—Scarlet.”
Grunt work or not, I’m so damn ready to be a part of something again... to help people. “Whatever it is, man. Bring it on.”
Silas laughs. “Famous last words.”
Me: How’s your day going, Princess? Check in when you can.
I fire off a quick text to Scarlet while Allison, the young mother I’m chaperoning for a custody exchange with her violent ex, buckles her wiggly toddler into his car seat.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she says in a small voice. “Our last pick up was… rough.”
“Happy to,” I tell her, meaning it. “It’s fucked up he still gets visitation though.” I remember her ex all too well from my days behind the badge.
“Yeah,” she whispers, her eyes misting with tears. “Perks of coming from money, I suppose. He had a good lawyer and I… did not.”
“Your boy’s safe with him?” I ask, flicking my eyes toward her ex’s retreating Bentley in my rearview mirror.
She nods and then shrugs. “He only likes to hurt women, so.”
“Fu—dge,” I correct myself, and a ghost of a smile passes over her tired features. “How often does he see him?”
She slides into the backseat next to her son and fastens her own seatbelt. “It’s supposed to be every other weekend, but here lately, it’s been a lot less. Like a weekend a month.”
I hum under my breath. “With any luck, he’ll lose interest.” The sentiment applies to Scarlet’s stalker, too, but something tells me he’s only getting started.