Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Mason admitted he’d been disappointed and felt more than a little foolish when he’d come out of the bathroom to an empty table. The note Jesse left had helped his ego, but he didn’t appreciate his options being taken away. Maybe he wanted to ask Jesse for dinner at his place or breakfast the next day. Instead Jesse had run away because he assumed he wasn’t good enough.
Mason turned the wipers on high speed as he drove through the neighborhood. The storm was bad out, and the temperature had dropped to the low fifties, making the freezing rain feel like sharp edges of glass when it hit him. Mason rounded the corner and shined his bright lights into the park, not caring who he was blinding. Many tents were still standing and battling valiantly against the wind, but most of the drifters that lingered around were gone.
Mason grabbed his flashlight out of the back seat and jogged into the park. “Jesse!” he yelled. “Jesse!” Shit. His voice sounded too small, like it was being carried away on the wind.
Mason didn’t rip open any tents, but he shined his heavy-duty flashlight across the wide-open grounds, searching for a long, slim-framed man curled in on himself. He walked over to the tree he’d seen Jesse reading under a lot, then to the bench he typically chose to nap on in the evenings, but he was nowhere to be found. Mason turned in a circle, wringing his hand through his wet hair. “Jesse!”
Riding by in his patrol car and seeing Jesse on the streets all week had eaten at him a little more each day, until it was an ache he couldn’t quite ease. He’d been telling himself to give it time, to be patient. However, Mason swore this year he was going to stop letting nice men get away and blaming it on patience. He was finally going after what he wanted, but he would still be careful. Jesse had opened up to him a little, but it was obvious he still had secrets, and Mason didn’t know if they were the career-killing kind or not. But he couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d gone off his gut instincts his entire life, and he believed it was what made him a good cop. And everything inside of him was telling him that Jesse didn’t fucking belong out there. “Jesse, where are you?” Please don’t let anything have happened to him.
“Mason!”
Mason jerked his light around and shined it directly into Arnie’s face, earning him a slew of harsh curses. “Get that goddamn thing outta my eyes, boy! Who you hollering for out here?”
Mason jogged over, his running shoes sloshing through the dense puddles. “Arnie. Are you all right?”
“I was, until you woke me up.”
“Why aren’t you at the shelter? I thought you didn’t stay over here anymore?” Mason said loudly over the wind. “Too dangerous.”
“You really doing small talk right now?” Arnie grunted. “You wanna talk about the weather too?”
Mason crouched down so he didn’t have to yell. “I’m looking for someone, Arnie. A new guy. Young. He wears a black leather jacket with a gray hood and is kinda quiet. Reads over there by that tree a lot.”
“Yeah. I know exactly who you talkin’ ’bout. Baby-faced guy.”
“Yes!”
“The dealers think he’s the reason for God’s enforcers coming through here the other week and cleaning house. The kid took off earlier after some Bulldogs chased him towards the freeway.”
Mason was damn near hysterical. “How long ago! Which way did—”
“I’m getting soaked.” Arnie ducked back into his tent.
“Arnie, goddamn you!” Mason barked.
“Under the overpass bridge! Now go on. Get outta here with all that noise. You’re louder than the storm!”
Mason was already gone.
Jesse
Jesse was curled up so tightly beneath the freeway overpass, trying to blend himself into the shadowed concrete. He wasn’t sure how many hours he’d been hiding, since he didn’t calculate time that way anymore. Hours were impossible to keep up with on the streets. Jesse wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was. All he knew was he was done. He’d never had to run for his life so much, and it was all his friend’s fault. Jesse had to get out of this shit. He had a degree; he had dreams and ambitions. He didn’t have to live like this. If the storm ever passed, he was walking to the precinct and directly into God’s office. Once Worm got a look at him, at what Jesse had gone through, his friend would sing like a canary.
Jesse was dozing in and out, trying to keep one ear peeled for trouble while he attempted to rest. The storm raged unforgivingly around him, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t enamored by Mother Nature. His head was bowed in the crook of his arm when he heard someone hollering his name. Jesse scrambled further into the corner, noticing the bright searchlight scanning the area.