Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Until the trial ends,” Cat said. “Then what?”
“You’ll have the lease and our security detail until the end of the school year even if the trial ends early. After that, two of you will graduate, and the remaining two will have to find a new place anyway. It’s a good deal.”
“Supposedly,” Laila said. “I can’t read any of this.”
“We would have brought an English copy if we’d known him incapable of making his own decisions,” Owens said.
“Rude,” Cat muttered.
Jeremy pointed at a word on the page and translated, “Bedroom.”
Jean motioned confirmation and summed up the features of both places. Most of it meant little to him, at least until he finally flipped to the last page of the second option and saw a printout of the neighborhood. These street names were familiar; his psychiatrist was only a few blocks away from this apartment.
“I know this place,” he said.
Jeremy leaned closer to see. “There’s Staples Center,” he said, and squinted at the street names. Recognition set in a second later with a surprised, “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.” He knew better than to elaborate in mixed company but dragged a finger down the road toward campus. Jean was terrible at reading maps and putting them into perspective, as he’d never really used them, but after two trips to his doctor he knew this apartment was three times further away from campus than the house was.
“Can we discuss it?” Laila asked.
“No one’s stopping you,” Owens said, blithely ignoring the implicit “in private” in her request. The best he did was turn sideways and feign great interest in his watch. Laila leveled a stony look at him before glancing from Cat to Jean.
“What are you thinking, Jean?” she asked.
“I am not sure it is a real choice,” Jean admitted. “Their preference would be to take me out of Los Angeles until I’ve testified.” It didn’t make sense. This was the kind of protection they should have forced on Neil, seeing how it was his father’s empire on trial. Maybe they were leery of crossing Stuart, who was obviously still keeping tabs on his nephew, but Jean meant what he said: he had nothing left of value to give them. It would come back to haunt him later, but for now it offered them a way forward. “I cannot decide this for us, but I will not fight it.”
Laila was clever enough to know there’d be a price to pay for the FBI’s involvement, but she was also exhausted and defeated, standing in the wreckage of a home she’d lived in for so many years and running on only an hour of broken sleep. She wanted to linger in this dreary place as much as he did. She scrubbed a weary hand over her eyes before tilting the packet toward Cat. “Babe?”
“Yeah,” Cat said, barely looking at it. “Yeah, we’ll make it work.”
“Lofts?” Owens asked, squinting across the room at the papers Laila was brandishing. When she nodded, he did too. “Good. How much longer will you be here?”
Laila’s response was quiet. “I’m done here.”
“I just need to grab what’s in the kitchen,” Cat said.
“Then we’ll meet you over there,” the agent said, and he and Browning left.
Jean listened for a door before remembering there wasn’t one. Jeremy sent a last look at the papers in Laila’s hands, looking a bit spooked by this newest development. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure we will have to sort it out later, if later isn’t too late,” Laila said. “My father can get us some answers, or at least some trustworthy guarantees.”
Jean followed Cat to the kitchen while Jeremy went out front with Laila. Cat had salvaged a half-dozen glasses and most of their silverware. The terracotta pot from the windowsill, long empty, was tucked into one of the glasses on the end. Jean instinctively looked for the framed photograph of Barkbark von Barkenstein, but its frame sat warped and dark on the sill. Jean knew better than to comment but helped collect the surviving dishes. Both Jeremy and Laila were on their phones, Jeremy tapping away a text message to someone and Laila finishing up a call to her uncle. Laila sent one last look at her house before following Jeremy to his car.
By the time they arrived at the Lofts, the agents had secured keys and all the necessary paperwork for them. That they’d squared it away so quickly made it seem more a foregone conclusion. Either they’d used this building before, or they’d argued an arrangement into place before stopping by Laila’s house.
Cat and Laila made the agents wait while they read the contract top to bottom, but Jean signed every spot dotted with a yellow highlighter. If he had to read through these endless paragraphs, they’d be here all day. He trusted the girls to warn him if something looked wrong.