Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
And right then, she was very high.
So high in fact that it sent an instant jolt of terror through me as I got up and went to the monitors that were on the shelf in my closet.
She was asleep in bed, and she was lying completely still, unaffected by the noise her phone was making.
I cursed and grabbed my lock-picking tools, then made my way over to her apartment.
After getting inside, I walked to the bedroom and tried to wake her up.
It took her a long time to do that, her eyes so heavy that she could barely open them.
“What?” she rasped.
“Your blood sugar is high as fuck right now. What do you need to do?” I asked.
“Dunno,” she grumbled.
When she made no move to explain, I pulled out my phone and called my sister, who was a nurse on the night shift at the hospital.
“Hello?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
I rolled my eyes and said, “I have a friend whose blood sugar is through the roof. She’s a type 1 diabetic, and I can’t get her to respond to my questions on how to get it fixed. What do I do?”
“She likely has insulin in her fridge. Unless she’s on a monitor. Does she have a monitor that gives her insulin?” she asked.
“How would I know that?” I asked.
She walked me through what to look for, and after confirming that she didn’t have the mechanism that would dispense insulin for her, I went in search of the actual stuff.
“You have to get the correct dosage,” she said. “Insulin is very, very dangerous.”
She helped me draw up the correct amount of insulin, then she told me how to administer it.
After injecting her, I asked, “How long will this take to work?”
“The type of insulin you used is rapid acting. It should take anywhere from five to twenty minutes or so,” she explained.
“Got it,” I said. “Thanks, love you.”
“Love you, too,” Caroline said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
We hung up, and I sat on the edge of her bed and watched her chest rise and fall.
I constantly checked her glucose for the next twenty minutes, watching as it gradually fell back into what the app considered normal range.
Instead of waking her before she was ready, I swung my legs onto her bed and leaned my head against the back of her headboard.
My eyes closed as I waited, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep.
My whole purpose of sending you a text was to get a response in a minute. Otherwise, I would’ve sent you a letter.
—Haze to Ben
HAZE
My phone ringing had my eyes peeling open.
My head took a while to comprehend what I was seeing, and I frowned.
Curtains.
Pink curtains.
And a white fluffy blanket covering my entire body except for just the smallest amount of my face.
I twisted, raising my hand up to the blanket, and tugged it down.
As I did, I saw a toned bicep, much smaller than my own, pressed against my belly.
And my phone was resting on my chest right above that bicep.
My gaze trailed from the bicep to the shoulder and from the shoulder to all the fuckin’ hair.
God, Nastya had a great head of hair.
Even messy as hell and tangled to all get out, it was attractive as fuck.
Her eyes were open, though, and staring right at me.
The heat in her eyes had my already semi-hard cock thickening even further.
“Your phone is ringing,” she pointed out.
I answered it, putting it on speakerphone.
“Hey, we caught a lead on the case,” he said. “And get this. This is the fourth fucking body that’s been found in an Amazon box in the last six months. FBI thinks we might have a serial killer.”
“Fuck,” I said. “So they’re giving it up with Nastya Semyonov?”
Was that fucking hope I heard in my voice?
“Nope,” he said. “They’re still considering her as a person of interest.”
“Where did these other murders happen?” I asked.
“The senator is spinning this as an accomplice type thing.” John laughed. “Even though the same shit happened with the other three victims that were found. But those were actually delivered to a house before the remains were found.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I grumbled. “He just has a hard-on for Semyonov.”
“Sounds like it to me. I asked the Sarge if he even thought the senator cared that someone he was acquainted with was a victim, or if he’s just using this as a perfect excuse to forward his project.”
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” I admitted. “Jesus.”
“Now, I have no actual updates yet. I imagine I will find out what happens today with the FBI, and I’ll give you updates as I get them. Use your day off wisely,” John said before hanging up, not bothering to wait for my reply.
There was a moment of silence as we both digested his words and then she said, “How did you get in here? Not that I’m complaining or anything, because waking up to a handsome man in my bed, especially Detective Haze Hopkins, a.k.a. Daddy, a.k.a. my stalker…”