Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Officially …” I step forward, looking at him in the eye, man to man. “You’ve most likely been places and done things I can’t imagine doing, Lex. I’m the one who should be calling you, sir. The cold, ugly fact is that I’ve spent years shamelessly making as much money as possible. I’ll give you another fifty percent if you agree to one simple thing.”
He swallows and glances at the door like he thinks we’ll be overheard, but I can see the second he decides. His eyes harden. I read his history online. I know he’s served five tours. I know he’s been in combat countless times and worked with politicians, some on the shady side.
“What would that be?” he asks.
“If a body needs disappearing, make it disappear. Make it so it can never be linked back to me. That’s it. All it takes is a nod. I’ll add the money as a performance bonus at the end of the week.”
He internally debates it again but then nods at me in a small, decisive motion.
“Awesome.” I grin. “Shall we discuss the protection area, then?”
He snaps back to professional mode. “Certainly, si—Landon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LILY
“Is it a bug?” Carter asks down the phone.
Guilt and shame twist through me as I make my voice raspy. I’ve always prided myself on never calling in sick to work, even when working at the pizza joint as a teenager.
“I think so,” I say. “Hopefully, it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing. I should be good for Monday.”
“Yeah, well, just rest up,” he says. “We don’t want you infecting the whole office.”
“Sorry for leaving you in the lurch.”
“You can’t help it if you’re ill.”
I hang up, then roll over and lie on my side. The sun is beginning to rise, glowing through the curtains. I’ve slept fitfully, with my thoughts shackled to Landon. I had to set an alarm to call in sick, but now, I should get more sleep.
Instead, I go to mine and Landon’s text conversation. My stomach is tight after what that English lady said—implying she and Landon were a thing. Maybe she was trying to hurt Ethan, tell a lie to wound him during an argument? There are bigger things to worry about now, mainly Landon’s safety.
Breaking the no-talking rule, I write, Are you okay? I know you want to focus, but I can’t stop thinking about something terrible happening.
He replies quickly, making me think he’s been waiting for this. I wonder if he’s been feeling the urge to contact me as strongly as I have to contact him. I’m okay. I’m doing my best. I can’t get into specifics but know I’m thinking about you, Lily. I miss you badly. I wish we could’ve shared everything we did under different circumstances.
We’ll get our chance, I type, my emotions suddenly rising close to the surface. I’ve nearly cried too many times recently.
You don’t have to commit to anything now.
We can find a way, I reply, not thinking about work for a moment, about Carter, the director, the threat of losing my job. Just come back safely and soon.
I’m doing my best, he texts. Nothing would make me happier than finding a way with you, whatever that means for us, however long it lasts. But I don’t want to hurt you.
Maybe being apart from you hurts even more.
You’re so damn sweet. So perfect. Let’s talk more when this is over.
I almost type, “I want to help,” but I can’t. I have to be strong. I have to remember the consequences. Helping Landon means losing my job and being unable to help more kids.
I’m sorry for making it hard for you to focus.
You’re the reason I can focus on this at all, he tells me. Without you, I never would’ve felt this passion again.
Is that a good thing? Is it good that he feels like this—ready to tear the world apart? He should spend his final days with his loved ones, savoring the time he has left, but I heard Ethan. Before me, he never cared about stuff like that. He never cared about himself or his own feelings.
I wish I could help.
You can help me by keeping yourself safe. If I can think of you over there, calm, collected, and SAFE, then it’s one less thing to worry about.
You don’t need to worry about me, I reply. I’d never say this to Mom, but I’ve been taking care of myself for years.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you.
I want that, too. So bad, but I shouldn’t.
Neither should I, he texts. It’s a damn cruel thing for me to do—make us both care.
Never say that again. Never even think it. The time we have is the time we have.
The time we have is the time we have, he replies. I like that. Talk soon.
I thought we weren’t supposed to be speaking.