Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
He hoped like hell the good doctor had stayed on the premises. There were three exits the guards let people in and out of: the front one of the mansion, the one that went out to the parking area for the lab, and the subterranean tunnel that headed out to the garage. Everything else was barricaded. So if he’d left, someone had to have let him go.
And driven him away.
Not an Uber, either.
Gus wasn’t the only one with departure on his mind. After dinner, Lydia had talked about going out to run the mountain. Daniel had sensed her restlessness as if it were his own, and he knew that she needed to let her wolf free. More than that, maybe she was safer there on the elevation. She was certainly faster on her feet—paws—than those robotic soldiers.
Not that she could out-bolt a bullet.
In the end, though, she had decided to stay put, probably because she was worried about him. And he decided it was okay because at least he knew where she was, currently lying down on their bed.
She was exhausted, and he hated that.
Maybe he’d been wrong to say what he had about Eastwind and the mountain… and her.
As he arrived at the foyer he looked at the sculptures set with a museum curator’s eye on the black-and-white-tiled floor.
“So much money wasted,” he muttered as he went over to one of the blobs.
Putting his palm on the abstract form’s bulges, he smacked it like a horse’s rump—because God knew the thing was big as a Clydesdale. The smooth marble was cold, and he supposed he had to give the artist credit. Lot of work to get rough stone to look like it was melted cheese.
On that note, he kept going across the checkerboard floor, and as he came up to the next major piece in the open space, he pulled another ass-smacker. This time, the sinuous form was painted with some kind of sealer that was so thick, there was no way of judging what the underlying structure was made of, and so shiny, he could see his own reflection.
“Helluva mirror,” he murmured as he cleared his throat and ran a hand over the new growth on his head.
Continuing on, and ignoring a sudden exhaustion, he nodded to the guard in the alcove, got no response at all—and thought about Candy the Receptionist’s nutcrackers. All this guy needed was some gold piping on his uniform and a funky hat, and he was a prime candidate to bust some nuts.
In a figurative sense.
Bored of his established route, Daniel went to one of the library’s French doors and popped it open. On the far side, there was nothing but darkness, a shaft of light piercing in and carving a visual slice down onto the—wait for it—black carpet.
’Cuz the shit could only be that or white in this house.
As he entered the long, narrow room, he could smell the old books, even though he could only see the shadows of the shelves that ran up the walls. Considering how antiseptic the rest of the house was, he wondered why C.P. had the collection of first editions, given that they seemed to fly in the face of her shiny-and-new vibe. Then again, they were probably good investments?
Man, he was really getting tired. Maybe he needed to head to bed.
Closing himself in, he kept the lights off because the big plate glass windows that marked the far wall became portals for monitoring the back meadow. As he went to the view, he searched for shadows moving around the winterized pool. Then wondered what exactly he would do if an attack occurred.
Other than call for the guards.
Still, he’d rather figure that one out, even with his limitations, than be here waiting. And thinking of those boot prints that had appeared out of nowhere in the forest.
It was very possible something other than a human was stalking them—
“Daniel?” came a distant call.
“In here,” he said over his shoulder.
Lydia opened the same door he had, and as her body was silhouetted by the light streaming in from the foyer, his instinct was to block the view of her with himself. But before he could get into position, he remembered that all the glass had a reflective coating on it. No one could see her from the outside.
Still… “Come in, but close those doors, would you?”
“Sure, but what are you doing in here?” she asked as she stepped in and did as he’d requested.
“Oh, not much.” With all the light cut out once more, the visibility improved. “Just watching the night sky. There’s a moon tonight.”
“You’re stargazing without me, are you?” Her voice was warm. “Hey, where are you…”
He wished he was merely looking at the heavens. “Just follow the sound of my voice.”
As she closed in, he covered a little cough with his hand and glanced over his shoulder. Outside, there was nothing moving in the back of the property, no shadows zeroing in on the house, no outright attack marshaling on foot or from the air—