Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“I’m not ruling out anything just yet. Isaac’s running from more than me and Harper. Was tonight related to his fear? Yes, but I’m not sure how. As for tonight’s visitor, was he a tipster trying to help me? A hired goon trying to fuck with my head? Someone trying to mock me with the message in numbers? The options are many.”
“Agreed. We’re in this all the way with you. I damn sure am. I’m not going back to New York until you go back. You staying here or at the hotel?” he asks.
“Here,” I say, disliking hotels where strangers come and go too easily.
“Then so am I.” He motions toward the side of the house and then heads that direction and I don’t even care that anyone watching knows he’s here. In fact, I hope they do and then stay the fuck away.
I scan the area, but I see no one and sense no danger. I start walking, reaching in my pocket, and removing a mini-Rubik’s cube, and close it in my palm. There were years that I had to work the puzzle to focus my mind, but now if I’m holding it, it streamlines my thoughts, clears my mind. Just that easily I’m chasing those numbers on my little gift, searching for their meaning: an employee badge number, a reference number to a medical claim. The list becomes a dozen long, with no end in sight.
By the time I reach the hotel, Blake is calling me.
“The numbers mean nothing to you, genius?” he asks, as I enter the lobby and head toward the stairs. “What the fuck?”
“They’re an identifier,” I say, moving my weapon to the rear of my pants. “In other words, Mr. Hacker Genius, find out what they identify.”
“Already working on it. It’s not a VIN number or car part.”
“I already told Adam that. Think outside of the box. I’ll send you a list of prospects if you need them, but of course, you’re a genius hacker, right?”
“You just can’t stand the idea of someone else being the genius, now can you?”
“I’ll believe you’re a genius when you find out what that identifier means.”
“Rolling my sleeves up now, asshole. Get ready to feel stupid for once. Our lab will run prints of the stuff you and Adam bagged tonight. How present do you want my men in Denver?”
“Present, but out of sight until we know what the hell really happened tonight.”
“What’s your gut say?”
“I still think this is a symptom of a bigger problem and we don’t know the real problem or who is behind that problem.”
“Agreed,” Blake says.
We talk another minute, and disconnect right as I exit the stairwell to my floor, the Rubik’s cube all but imprinted on my left hand. By the time I reach my door and relieve Jensen of his duties, I’ve decided to look to the obvious place for an answer to what that identifier represents—Harper. That man was at her house. It hits me then; I’ve been assuming the message is for me because of the number format, but the truth is, it could be for her. Certainty fills me; the message is for Harper and for reasons that are pure instinct, that feels like a problem. That feels dangerous. It feels like something else Harper still hasn’t told me and if she was anyone else, I’d be bordering on pissed.
But I’m not sure I trust my instincts with Harper. I’m too fucking into her. And the very idea that at this point, Harper could be holding information back, does not sit well. I want answers or I’m out.
I slide my keycard and open the door. I’ve made it all of four steps when Harper charges at me, flings herself into my arms, and breathes out, “Thank God.”
Thank God, spoken with relief.
“I was so worried.” She pulls back to look at me. “I’m glad you’re back.”
She has a million questions, I’m certain, but she’s not asking them. She’s focused on me and I don’t remember the last time anyone worried about me or focused on me for any reason that wasn’t to hurt me or compete with me. I don’t remember a time when anyone defended me as she did with her mother. Her mother, who is all she has, the only one she calls family. No one understands what that means to her, more than me. My mother was all I had, too.
I stroke her hair from her face and tilt her gaze to mine and in that moment, I decide right now that if she’s hiding something, she’s afraid. Words Grayson has said to me over and over come back to me: You get what you give. If I don’t give Harper my trust, she’ll never give me hers. She doesn’t trust me with her secret because she doesn’t trust me not to leave. I’ve done so two times before. I’ve earned her distrust, not her trust.