Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"I, ah. I was in the walk-in closet. That was where I woke up," she said, taking slow, deep breaths. "I touched the pill bottle and the blanket. The doorknob. I touched all the walls in there, trying to find my way around. Um, the wood tray. I hit him with that. He, ah, he pulled my hair. I think he pulled some of it out," she said, eyes far away as she was trying to recall the awful events of the day. "Am I bleeding here?" she asked, touching her bruised face.
"No," I told her, even though I wanted to resurrect the bastard just so I could kill him more slowly.
"But there's..." she said, fingers touching her cheek.
"That's his blood. We will wash it off before we go, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, eyes starting to focus. "How are we... you killed him..."
"He deserved it," I said, shrugging. "And you don't need to worry about how. We just need to get you cleaned up. Throw a different shirt on you. And then we can go, okay? McCoy, Che, and Remy will handle this now."
"Okay," she agreed, going with the flow even though she looked like she had a million questions.
With that, I pulled her off the floor, took her with me into the bathroom, helping her wash the blood away, yanking off her top, slipping on the tee that Che handed to me, hating that she had to wear anything from him, but knowing it was the only way to get out of here without someone seeing the blood.
"Okay. You and me, we are going to walk out of here like nothing happened, okay?" I said, watching as Che moved into the bathroom, tossing the washcloth and shirt into the trash, wiping off the counter, faucet, light switch, the mirror, shit we didn't even touch.
Our body count was high for one day. Their paranoia was going to work in our favor to make sure there was nothing of any of us at this crime scene.
"Here," Remy said, handing Harmon a trucker hat. "That hair," he said, shrugging.
"Right," she agreed, carefully twisting her hair up, holding it on the top of her head, then trapping it under the hat. "I guess having distinguishing hair colors isn't a good idea if you're a criminal."
"You're not a criminal," I insisted, reaching to grab her hand.
"I'm an accessory, at the very least," she said, tone a little dead, far away.
But there would be time to deal with that later.
Right now, we had to get out of here so the guys could clean.
Even as I thought that, Che was walking past with plastic gloves and a vacuum, walking out to the living room where McCoy was scraping under Kit's nails.
"Okay. Listen. Just duck your head, and walk out of here with me."
"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I have no shoes," she said as we moved in front of the door.
"It's Miami, not New York. People are barefoot here sometimes," I told her, pulling her with me, not wanting to waste any time.
I was pretty sure that the shock was going to wear off sooner rather than later, and we weren't exactly close to home.
"Hey, you're okay, alright?" I said as I felt her body starting to tremble as we made our way out onto the main street. "You're okay. We are almost out of here. Just hold it together for a few more minutes," I urged. But by the time I got to the bikes, I knew there was no way she was going to be able to hang on trembling like she was.
"Shit," I hissed, wrapping an arm around her, holding her to me as I tried to figure out my next move.
"I'm just going to pick you up," I said when her whole body jolted when she felt my hands touch her legs. "I am going to take you to Teddy's," I told her, even though I wasn't sure how much she was actually paying attention right then. "He's not too far from here," I added, even though that was complete bullshit.
It was a bit of a haul, made worse still by carrying someone and trying not to seem too conspicuous.
It was a full twenty minutes when we finally made it to the apartment building, my arms feeling numb and weak as I confidently walked her through the lobby, slipped inside the elevator, and rode it up.
There were two penthouse apartments on the top floor with a small hallway between.
My foot kicked into Teddy's door, praying he was home because I didn't have a key or anywhere else to turn right now unless I wanted to call Seeley to come with a car, and try to hold her down in the back while she lost her shit with her PTSD.
There was a long pause that filled me with dread before the door pulled open, revealing Teddy still in his slacks and button-up but the buttons were undone.