Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Dallas. Next time she made a suggestion, even if it was donating both my kidneys to science, I would fulfill it without delay. If there was a next time.
“Home.” I managed not to shout. “As fast as you can.”
Jared offered me a curt nod and fished a bottled water from the mini fridge next to him, handing it over to me, as he always did. I didn’t have any goddamn time for his routine.
Tucking it under my arm, I shot a text to Zach and Oliver.
Romeo Costa: @ZachSun How fast can you track Madison Licht’s location?
Ollie vB: County jail? FBI holding facility? Or, if there is a god, a CIA black site?
I sipped the water, trying my hardest not to lose my composure as I waited for a real response. I’d get there in time. I had to.
Romeo Costa: He’s out on bail.
Ollie vB: Shit.
Zach Sun: If he has his phone on him, a minute. Hold.
Romeo Costa: @ZachSun, you done? It’s been a fucking minu
A chill bolted through my skin, hiking up every hair on my body. As if I’d been electrocuted. Must be static friction. But I couldn’t finish typing out my sentence. A roll of nausea crashed into my gut like a fist. A guttural growl escaped my lips. I raised the water bottle, intending to sip again, and noticed my hands shaking.
My hands never shook.
I inventoried my symptoms. Trembling hands. Sluggish breaths. Hazy vision.
My entire body twisted inside out like snakes slithered within it. Jared’s eyes met mine across the rearview mirror before scurrying back to the road ahead. I knew guilt when I saw it. And I could taste betrayal from a thousand miles away.
I’d been poisoned.
Madison or Bruce? I didn’t even have to think twice. Madison, of course. Bruce was conniving but too conventional to murder. The man was as edgy as a softball.
Madison must have paid my driver to kill me. Problem was, I had no idea what he’d laced into the water. No way of knowing how grim my situation was or what the antidote might be. I doubted Jared knew, either. One thing was certain—mentioning it to him now, while I was too weak to breathe properly, would be a mistake.
Returning my attention to my phone, I wrote one word.
Poisoned.
Within half a second, Zach’s name flashed on my screen. I accepted the call, too ill to speak. Just as well, as Zach didn’t want my conversation. He needed my location through his GPS app.
“I can’t wait to get home,” I croaked out, so he could hear where I was headed. Judging by the scenery, I’d make it there in four minutes.
Texts darted down my screen.
Ollie vB: I sent an ambulance over to your house. Heading there now.
Ollie vB: Side note—I love how you insisted on putting a period after the word poison, even on your deathbed. Your passion for good grammar is commendable.
Ollie vB: Oh, and keep whatever you drank or ate with you, so we can run a check and see what’s in there.
I was grateful my friends, despite exhibiting the mental age of thirteen normally, were resourceful in crunch time. Relief swept through me when I realized Madison would probably leave Shortbread alone. No point harming her without me alive to witness it.
Jared’s shoulders rattled with nerves. He tossed glances at me through the mirror, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip, leaving indents of sweat on the plush leather cover. He either expected me to drop dead and was wondering why I was still seated, looking calm and collected, or was having second thoughts.
There is minus-zero chance I’ll let you walk away from this.
If I get out of this alive.
I’d never been a big fan of life. Growing up, I’d spent countless days wishing I’d never been born. So, the foreign panic that seized my chest surprised me. And with it, came an unsettling realization—I didn’t want to die.
I wanted more time with Dallas “Shortbread” Costa. With my wife.
I wanted to hear her laughter. To try new food with her. To dance together in ballrooms—this time because she wanted to give me those dances, not because of societal pressure.
I wanted to seduce her and be seduced by her. I wanted a do-over of our Parisian honeymoon.
Hell, a part of me wanted to see our child. Would it be a boy or a girl? Hazel or gray-eyed? With her temper? Or my dry sense of humor? And her laugh? Was she already pregnant?
Fuck, what if she was?
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
The car pulled in front of my mansion. The thought crossed my mind that it could very well be the last time I greeted Dallas in our home. If she was still there.
Pushing the door open, I stumbled out, zigzagging my way to the door.
Jared flew out the driver’s side, hot on my tail. “Boss, you don’t look well. Should I—”