Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
He backhands me across the face and my neck wrenches with the impact, stars dance in front of my eyes. “You’re not working on it. You’re screwing around stealing cars. I have my own car theft rings. I don’t need a teenager to reinvent one. Now I’m back, and I want my gold.”
“Here’s what she had on her, Don Salvatore,” Vinny says. “She brought thirty grand in cash.”
Don Salvatore. Now I have a name to put with the nasty face. Salvatore takes my purse and rifles through. He pulls out my phone. “You left her phone on?”
“She never touched it, Don. She was out the whole time.”
“People can be traced through phones, you idiot,” he growls. “And her fucking location setting was on.”
I sit up straighter. Location setting. Bo was tracking me before. Could he still be?
Probably not.
Definitely not after I told him we were through.
But however slim a chance there is, I find myself fixating on that sliver of hope. There’s a chance I could be found. My aunt would’ve called the cops by now.
Maybe they’re tracking my phone.
Salvatore takes the cash out and looks at it with disinterest. “I’ve been patient with you. Extremely patient. But I’m starting to think I didn’t apply enough pressure. I told you to find the fucking gold and the painting. So where is it?”
I jerk in my chair at the sheer volume and closeness. His breath smells like sour coffee.
“I’m trying to find it!” I protest and get slapped across the face. And least it wasn’t the backhand. That fucking hurt.
“Work her over,” he orders, walking away.
Bo
Lots of freaking firsts for me today. I’ve never been out of Arizona. Never flown on a plane before. Never taken an Uber.
It’s all easy, though, because I’m in warrior mode. Ready to tear those assholes apart when I get to them.
I stride through the EZ Storage complex with the key out, seeking the right unit. I had to sign in and show I.D. and the key to the locker, but no one stops me from entering. This place isn’t Fort Knox. If there are assets hidden here, the only thing keeping them safe is the fact that the storage unit was under the name S. MacCormac—spelled totally wrong—and that no one knew about it.
I find the right number, and the key to the corrugated metal unit fits and turns. I shut the door behind me for privacy, even though there’s no light inside.
There are a few filing boxes. Three paintings wrapped up in moving blankets, including the small one of a bird. And a little briefcase-sized fire safe that’s locked. I try the key to the storage unit on it, a puff of relieved laughter escaping my lips when it actually turns.
For once in this whole convoluted story, something’s going right.
I open the lid and my body reacts to the sight of what’s inside before my mind does.
Bars of gold. Slender, iPhone-sized bars of gold. Way more than the six Sloane said the mafia guy demanded from her. There’s—I do a quick count—actually close to thirty. Which means Sloane’s college tuition problem has also been solved.
If she’s still alive, and I can get to her.
Sloane
Oh God, it’s torture time. I may have once thought of myself as strong, but I’m pissing my pants right now.
“Wait!” I call to Don Salvatore. I don’t know if that gold still exists somewhere I can get to it or not, but I do need to buy time.
“I have more money for you,” I lie. “A good faith payment. Fifteen grand. M-my friend has it. He can bring it. Let me call him.”
It’s wrong to involve Bo. Very wrong. But if I can just get this message to him, maybe he can call the cops. Track me and get some help. Does tracking even work after locations have been turned off? I can only pray it does.
Salvatore cocks his head with a frown. I don’t think he believes me, but he’s greedy enough to entertain me. He pulls out my phone and turns it back on. It can’t have more than one percent battery left on it. “Contact?”
I clear my throat.
Dammit, do I really want to do this? What if they kill me and go after Bo? But I don’t see what other chance I have. “Bo.”
Salvatore dials the number and puts it on speaker phone, holding it up to my face.
“Sloane.” The urgency in Bo’s voice tells me he knows I’m missing.
I almost weep with relief at hearing that strong, clear note.
“Hey, Bo,” I speak fast. “Remember that money—th-that money that I had that belonged to someone else?”
“I have it.”
I’m momentarily stunned by his clipped and unexpected answer. It’s like he knew exactly what lie I just told and how to back it up.
“Y-you do?”
“Yeah, your aunt saved your dad’s letters to you, and we figured it out. Where are you?”