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)
I sucked in frantic breaths as I pressed my phone to my chest to keep it dark while I pressed the volume all the way down. The last thing I needed was for my grandmother to send one of her many worried texts and have the ding give away my location.
I winced as Ernest chomped on the food.
But he was a ravenous eater. By the time the men stopped ransacking my house, he would be long finished.
I scurried backward, trying not to notice how dirt scratched at my knees, shins, and palms, how the cobwebs caught in my hair.
I didn’t stop until I reached Ernest, using my body to barricade him in the back of the crawl space.
Outside the hidden door, on the other side of the mirror doors of the closet, I heard male voices, then things hitting the floor in my bedroom.
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm myself down.
“She just let the fucking dog in. She’s here somewhere,” Marco’s voice growled, making my stomach clench.
What if they turned the house upside down?
What if they found me?
What if Marco let them do to me what they’d joked about the last time I’d seen them?
My hands were shaking as I slid my phone into my shirt, unlocked it, then lowered the brightness until I could barely see the screen as I scrolled to my messages.
My grandmother was on top.
Below her, Traeger.
Then five or six text stream advertisements.
Then, finally, Kylo.
“Stop bullshitting and find her. Now!” Marco snarled.
My shoulders crept up toward my ears as I texted with shaky fingers.
HELP.
I sent that off before I realized he needed more details.
Marco is at my house with his men.
I resisted the urge to tell him my address, remembering that he’d been following me, that he likely not only knew where I lived, but my exact schedule.
Where, just an hour before, that information would have made me angry, now I was just relieved.
I stared at the screen, worrying that he might ignore my texts, that he might not be by his phone, that he wouldn’t see or be able to help me in time.
Should I call the police?
But if they came and found Marco and his men and arrested them, it might all come out.
It was my name on those documents.
On paper, I was the arms dealer.
There was nothing linking them to anything.
Ernest tried to edge past me.
Needing to keep him distracted so he didn’t whine, I reached out with my free hand to rub his belly. He dropped down and rolled onto his side, inviting more. With my free hand, I kept touching the screen so I could see a text when it came.
One minute.
Five.
Men’s voices got lower as they moved into other rooms, then got loud as they closed in again.
I was holding my breath, so I could hear the swishing sound as the closet doors slid open.
Okay.
It was okay.
There was no reason to think they could find me.
I petted Ernest harder as I leaned over, burying my face in his wrinkly neck, trying to keep myself from making a sound as the hangers shrieked across the bar while they looked for me.
The luggage thumped against the hidden door and I prayed the pressure wasn’t enough to push the magnet in and unlatch the door.
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to know what was coming if our location had been found out.
I focused on the feel of Ernest’s soft fur as I counted breaths, trying to keep them steady and slow.
But there was no way to control the way adrenaline surged through me, to calm my heartbeat, to force my lungs to accept more oxygen.
“She’s not hiding on a fucking shelf,” someone said, close. So, so close.
But then, the slide of the doors again.
Then, suddenly, the crash of glass.
I yelped against Ernest’s neck, using both my arms to keep him in place as he startled.
“Good boy,” I whispered, my voice barely even audible to my own ears. “Good boy. Who’s my good boy?”
Shoes crunched on the glass shards, then moved further away.
I was vaguely aware of more crashing and speaking before, suddenly, the silence spread.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t dare.
If Marco suspected I was still hiding somewhere, he could have just ordered his men to be quiet, to wait for me to come out.
I petted Ernest.
I counted.
One to sixty, then back again, holding up my fingers for each minute that passed.
Ten.
Twelve.
Fifteen.
My body jolted hard at the sudden thunderclaps of shoes running through my house.
“Rue?” a voice called, making me stiffen and straighten up.
That wasn’t Marco.
But it was coming from so far away; I didn’t let myself hope it might be a rescue.
“Rue? Rue, where are you?” The voice grew closer.
I straightened as much as the tiny space would let me, trying to listen.
I reached for my phone, unlocking the screen again.
I’d been so busy burying my face in my dog’s neck that I’d missed the texts from him.