Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
TWENTY-FOUR
Ella
I’m back in the tree, and Leo is sprawled under me, tongue lolling, content. We drove in a battered Toyota that blends into traffic, the kind of truck nobody remembers. I picked a path that ducks every camera I know about and a few I only suspect. Now I give the bird whistle and count to ten. Nothing stirs. That’s fine. This isn’t my usual hour, and if a lens tags me now, I’ll have problems. I whistle one more time for luck, drop to the grass, and dust off my hands. The front desk won’t let a dog in, so I need another approach.
The nursing home sits quiet, the big brick building stretched low and confident. I head toward the main doors, then cut left without breaking stride and follow the exterior until I reach the window I need.
A gardener looks up from across the lawn and then returns to tending his roses. I’ve learned that if I act like I know what I’m doing, folks usually don’t bug me.
I tap the glass. The slats flip up, and my godmother leans out, green glasses crusted with rhinestones catching the light. She pushes them higher, sees Leo, and softens. “Oh, what a sweetie.” She props the window, hooks the screen out of the way, and waves me forward. “Bring him inside.”
“That’s the plan,” I say. Leo looks at me, then at her, then back at me. He bunches his legs and slips through the opening like he’s done it a hundred times.
I climb in after him and land hard on one knee—not nearly as graceful as my dog.
Aura grabs my elbow and steadies me while Magdalena’s voice cuts from behind a monitor. “What exactly are you doing?”
I stand, brush grass off my pants, and watch Aura swing the screen back, slide the window down, and tug the blinds shut with quick, practiced motions.
Joslyn pivots in her chair, pale blue eyes that miss nothing locked on me. “Where have you been?”
“Kidnapped,” I say. “Justice Beathach took me.”
Aura’s ring-heavy hand presses to her chest. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Heat climbs my face before I can stop it.
Magdalena studies me, then the dog, then me again, her mouth tightening as if she’s solved a problem she doesn’t like. “You did not,” she says.
Aura turns to her. “Didn’t what?”
“Nothing,” I say, too quick. “I didn’t do anything.”
Jos doesn’t blink. “I doubt that.” She tips her chin, unblinking. “Are you involved with Justice Beathach?”
“I’m not involved with him,” I say. “He might have kidnapped me a couple of times.” There are more pumpkins decorating the place than before, and several have been covered in orange sequins. The smell of fall, apples and ciders, spills from a couple of candles lit on the far credenza by the door.
“You didn’t kiss him, did you?” Jos’s voice is sharp, like she already knows the answer.
My cheeks blaze. “He kissed me.”
Magdalena slides her glasses higher, pink sequins glittering across the frames she glued herself. She peers at me over the lenses, eyes narrowing. “Did you kiss him back?”
I shift on my feet. “I did.” The words scrape out. I’d done a lot more than that. No way I’m giving them details.
Mag’s chair creaks as she leans forward, her elbow on the desk, her hand fishing in the glass bowl beside her. She unwraps a caramel with neat, practiced fingers. “Well, how was it?”
I glance at the floor, then up, my voice light and shaky. “He’s a good kisser.” Oh, please don’t ask for more details. Please.
Aura pats my arm, her thin skin soft and smelling faintly of rose lotion. “As long as all you did was kiss him, I suppose that’s all right.”
Oh, for the love of everything holy. “He’s not that bad.” I nod toward Leo, who sprawls contentedly on the rug. “He beat up a guy to save the puppy.” Killed the guy, really.
Three pairs of eyes turn toward the dog. Jos studies him with her usual soft spot for animals. Mag tilts her head, sugar still melting in her mouth. Aura just smiles like glitter belongs in every corner of the world.
“He let you keep a dog?” Jos asks, disbelief edging her words.
“Not just let me,” I say. “He helped me save him.” My voice pushes too hard, like I’m trying to sell something I don’t quite buy. Justice might be decent with me, with dogs, probably with elderly women, but in the grand tally of life, his soul probably has some serious dents. It should worry me more than it does. “I kind of feel safe when I’m with him.”
Aura gasps and claps her rhinestone-bright glasses up on her head. “That’s how they get you, honey. They make you feel safe, make you feel special, and before you know it—”
“You’re in the mob,” Jos finishes flatly.
I laugh under my breath. “I don’t think that’s really how it works.” Though both Alana and Rosalie ended up right there. Not in the business, but standing beside it. Rosalie’s an attorney, a legitimate one, and Alana still fronts Aquarius Social with posts online, now branching into Malice Media. Neither of them has blood on their hands. Every instinct in me says their men would burn the world to protect them. I like that for them. “I can’t gossip any longer. We need to get to work to retake my company.”