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)
“I’ll destroy this in just a minute,” Mags says easily.
“Thanks.” I move back toward the window. “Would you all keep the dog for a bit?” It’s easier to run without him.
“Of course,” Jos says for the group, her fingers flying over the keys. “I’ll order him food right now. And treats. Plus a few toys.”
Leo flops down on her feet. Yeah, he’s found a kindred spirit.
I don’t blame him. I love this place and these women. The room hums with overlapping signals that include the faint whir of cooling fans, the snap of wrappers as Mags digs for another caramel, and the steady tick of the crystal-faced clock on the wall. String lights flicker above the curtained windows, throwing small halos across the cluttered credenzas. Aura’s perfume bottles and bedazzled teacup sparkle under the glow, while Jos’s workspace stays neat, her topaz locket gleaming as she makes another note in her tidy handwriting.
I gently pull the window screen free.
“Why don’t you go out the main door?” Aura asks.
I shrug. “Dunno. I came in this way. Are you sure the cameras are still out?”
She rears back.
Oops. I lift up a hand. “I know they are. Sorry.” I flop my leg over the sill and drop down on the other side, careful not to trample the flowers. “Thanks and I love you. Get ready to attack at four.” I blow kisses, turn, and run across the lawn to the forest.
The trails are familiar as I move between trees to a small alcove where I usually hide my vehicles while visiting. There are no cameras anywhere near.
Reaching the truck, I open the door just as a gleaming town car tears around the bend and screeches to a stop at my side.
Two men jump out.
“Damn it.” I shove the door, but the closest guy is quicker. His hand clamps on my arm, yanks me forward, and before I can twist free, he tosses me into the back of the town car. I hit hard, palms scraping the pristine carpet. The air smells like new car and real leather.
I push up, knees stinging. “Ah, shit.”
Sylveria Rendale sits across from me in a blue ball gown, the kind that belongs at a gala, not here. The skirt is bunched at her knees, creased from the ride. A row of diamonds circles her throat, bright even in the dim car light. Her hair is pinned tight, not a strand out of place. “How are you, my dear stepdaughter?”
“Just great,” I mutter, sliding onto the seat. “How did you know I was here?”
“I’ve been tracking Rosalie’s calls and texts. Even though you used a burner phone, Rosalie didn’t.” Sylveria smooths her dress with long fingers, her nails painted red. “The best part is we’re the only ones who know where you are right now. Most of the underworld still thinks Justice Beathach has you.”
Well, fantastic. If I end up dead, he takes the blame. Darn it, Rosalie. We all figured she was so safe now protected by the Russian mob. Why hadn’t I thought to give her a burner phone? What was I thinking?
I glance at the door. The hulking bodyguard wedges himself there, with his wide shoulders blocking the window, hands loose at his sides. Watching with no light in his eyes. Not even a glimmer. There will be no help for me from him. “I suppose you still want me dead,” I mutter.
“I really do,” Sylveria says, and then she smiles.
TWENTY-FIVE
Ella
Unlike the other social media companies, TimeGem Moments located its headquarters several miles outside of Silicon Valley. The building is a massive spread of metal and glass, two stories above ground and five more hidden below. The grounds are perfect, unnervingly so, with every hedge and path lined to precision. Statues glimmer as if they’ve been carved straight out of diamonds.
For a second I almost believe the sparkles. Then I wonder how the guards keep anyone from rushing in and prying the stones loose. I glance sideways at Sylveria, suspicion pressing against my ribs. The realization lands sharp. “Those aren’t diamonds,” I say, my voice catching. “I read an exposé on you a few years back. They swore the statues were covered in diamonds. The eyes. The nails. All of it. They’re not diamonds. How did you fool the reporter?”
Sylveria doesn’t flinch. She turns her face toward the window, her tone flat, almost bored. “A couple are real. You just don’t know which ones we showed. The one the reporter saw was real. I told him the rest were authentic, and he wanted to believe that.”
My father would’ve hated that. “Of course he did.”
We roll up to the front of the building. Security cameras stare down at us from every angle, cold and unblinking. My stomach knots. “Are those on?” I try to keep my voice steady.