Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“That’s the spirit!”
“I hate flying,” I said as we turned into the airport forty-five minutes later.
“And now you likely have two nice, long flights ahead of you.”
“Not helping.”
“Oh, just order a stiff drink and instead of counting sheep to fall asleep, imagine counting all the money you are about to make.”
“That helps.”
“Alright. Now, go nab you that hot criminal.”
“He’s not that hot.”
“Oh, hon,” my mom said, shooting me a lowered-brow look. “He really is.”
“If you say so.”
“Try not to fall in love with him,” she said as I shoved some of the things out of my purse into my duffel.
“Right. Like that’s going to happen,” I said with an eye roll. As she rolled up to the drop-off line, I grabbed my ticket and ID.
“Hey, you never know.”
“He’s a criminal.”
“Bad boys make really good men.”
“If you say so.”
“You sound like you need to eat something.”
“And you sound like you are moments away from asking me when I’m going to give you grand babies.”
She tried to hide her guilty look.
“I wouldn’t mind grand babies. But you would probably need to be having sex to give me one.”
“Hey, that’s…”
“Totally fair?” she asked. “You’ve been working nonstop for six months. There’s no way you’ve had any time for dating.”
“True,” I admitted, exhaling hard. “But I’m not going to be banging a skip. Let alone falling in love and having babies with one. He’s going to prison, remember?”
“Hey, at least you won’t have to trip over his clothes on the bathroom floor. Okay. You have to go. Shoot me a text when you land. And if you are hopping a plane anywhere else.”
“Will do.”
“I mean it,” she said, voice firm. “You always forget to check in.”
To be fair, it wasn’t that I forgot; I was usually just busy. Or sleeping. I could remind her that for most of her bounty-hunting career, she had no one she needed to check in with, but she would only tell me that this was different, that she had people who cared about her coming home safely.
“I will text you,” I promised.
“You better. If I have to drag my ass all the way to Florida, let alone South America, I’m going to be pissed. Okay. Go. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I said, climbing out of the car.
I was cutting it close with my flight. So after I got through security, there was no time to stop for some much-needed coffee, let alone any food. I had to run to the gate to just barely make it on the plane.
By the time I was in my seat, I was in a sour mood. And too hungry to sleep, like my mom suggested.
So I gripped my armrests and comforted myself with thoughts of slapping cuffs on this Warwick guy’s wrists, dragging him to the police station, and getting my little finder’s fee. Then doing nothing for months.
Hell, maybe I would finally get my own apartment instead of crashing on the couches of my friends and family. Or, on occasion, the couch at the office.
It always felt pointless to pay for an apartment that I would almost never be spending any time in. Plus, it was just begging to be robbed.
But with half a million dollars in my bank account, I could cut my workload by half or a third.
I wouldn’t even know what to do with that time.
As things stood now, when I wasn’t working on a case, I was mostly sleeping, catching up with my family, or trying to figure out what my next case would be.
What would I do if I had every weekend free? Maybe even weekdays? Pick up a hobby?
I was still mulling over such a different life when we finally landed in Miami.
The humidity had my hair sticking to the back of my neck as I walked down the jet bridge, making me rummage around in my bag to find a hair tie.
I blamed my distraction for what happened next.
I was still trying to tie my unruly hair up in the tie as I walked into the concourse, so I was only half paying attention to the various sights around me: shops, boarding areas, and gates.
But I felt this strange—I don’t know—shiver move up my spine that had me stopping dead.
“Watch it,” someone grumbled as they rammed into me, sending me forward a step.
In my line of work, you had to trust your gut instincts. And something was telling me to turn back around, to look closer at… something.
I spun around, trying to see past the small rush of people walking right toward me. I scanned their faces, but nothing was clicking.
Not until I looked toward one of the gates.
My gaze landed on one man. He was tall and fit under his fitted white tee and cargo shorts.
I was just looking at the back of his head, so I had no idea what was calling me to him.