Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Right.
When I’d been a bit delirious with exhaustion after we’d had a pipe leak and had to stay up for ages trying to sop up the water, rip up the floors and pull out the walls, so we could put new ones down. And I’d casually mentioned my ‘slippy sock vacation.’
Traeger had the grace not to bring it up again when I didn’t.
“I just want to make sure it doesn’t go that far again,” he added.
“Trust me, me either. So I’m really happy that you’re calling me out.”
“Not out. In. I’m calling you in. And asking you to let me in, if that is what you need.”
“God, you are wise beyond your years,” I said, walking over to give him a quick hug. “Thanks, Traeg. It’s really good to be seen. Even if what you are seeing isn’t the prettiest right now.”
“You have never been anything but absolutely stunning,” he insisted.
“Thank you. Now, git. You have friends waiting for you.”
“I’m going. I’m going. Are you sure you don’t want help closing up?”
“Positive.”
The last thing I wanted was for him to get tangled up in the awful web I was hopelessly wrapped up in.
By my best estimate, I only had about forty-five minutes before the truck showed up. After that, the cars and SUVs would arrive. And the men who would spill out.
Even just thinking about it made the coffee I’d just sipped threaten to come back up again.
“Alright. I’m going. Don’t work too late, okay? Get extra rest while you’re adjusting.”
“That is the plan,” I agreed.
It was the one reason I was relatively sure it wasn’t depression I was dealing with. Not yet anyway. Because when I was in a depression, I could barely force myself out of bed. Right now, I could barely sleep. I would just lay there, staring at the ceiling, overthinking.
That said, once this delivery was over with, I would hopefully be able to level out again. At least for the next couple of weeks.
Then it would start all over again. Unless the new medicine worked a miracle.
I watched Traeger get into his car and back out of the lot.
Then I chugged the rest of the coffee so I felt alive enough to finish cleaning up the store for the day.
Then I saw the headlights.
Dread seized my stomach and weighted my legs.
I was pinned to the spot, unable to move, to think, to do anything but feel my heart gallop in my chest.
Maybe if I stayed inside, they would leave me alone.
I used to care about the plants that came in, not wanting them to be manhandled, knowing how rare and precious some of them were. I carefully tended to them so the men wouldn’t throw them around or step on them.
But if I just said ‘screw it’ and stayed inside, would they just… handle their business and move on?
They didn’t need me to get their boxes full of contraband. If anything, wasn’t my presence a hindrance? Didn’t they want to conduct their illegal activities without a witness?
I flipped back through my previous interactions with these men, trying to remember if they’d ever said something about me needing to meet the delivery truck.
I couldn’t think of anything.
Besides, I couldn’t move anyway.
So I stayed behind the counter, heart hammering, icy sweat sliding down my spine.
I watched the truck pull in.
Then two SUVs.
And, finally, the fancy sports car that belonged to the leader of this little crew.
I watched him climb out, his head swiveling around.
His name was Marco, and he was maybe five-ten with short-cropped black hair, a somewhat forgettable oval face, dark eyes, and a fit build. He wasn’t bulky, but fit. When he lifted a hand to wave at someone, I could see his biceps stretch the material of his tight black tee.
His mouth opened, speaking to someone, and I saw the way his brows scrunched before he moved out of my line of sight.
I gulped in a breath and started to count, hoping it might be meditative. I even let my eyes slide shut.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” a voice barked, making my heart lurch and my body jolt.
My eyes flew open, and there he was.
Marco.
Swaggering toward me, his jaw tight.
“What?” I asked, voice raspy, my mouth bone dry.
“The fuck you doing in here? Get your ass out to the truck.”
“I, uh, they can just throw the plants out,” I said.
“Oh, so you’re the boss now, huh? Making decisions.”
“No, I—”
There was a chill in his tone. He took down the temperature in the room by ten degrees. A shiver racked my system as he drew closer still.
“No is right. Get your fucking ass out here,” he demanded, grabbing my wrist and yanking me from behind the desk.
His fingers crushed my wrist, and a small yelp escaped me.
That sound only seemed to motivate Marco as he widened his stride, basically pulling me along with him through the store. I had to jog to keep up and ease the ache on my wrist.