Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Maybe.
My phone buzzes, offering me a reprieve from my thoughts.
Bianca: If I tell you something and it turns out to be true—and it’s illegal—am I considered an accomplice?
Me: Did you do it?
Bianca. NO. Not me.
I sit on the edge of the bed.
Me: Out of all your siblings, you chose the brother playing rugby for legal advice?
Bianca: No offense, but out of all our siblings, you have the most experience dealing with legal issues.
Me: Touché. Continue.
Bianca: Maybe I should call you so it’s not written down. Paper trails are a real thing.
Me: Why? You think I’m going to rat you out?
Bianca: I’m calling you.
“Thanks for the warning.” As promised, the phone buzzes in my hands. “If you didn’t know, I promised your father I would be on my best behavior until his purchase goes through. I don’t think he’d appreciate you dragging me into the dark side.”
“My father?”
I shrug. “He likes you best. And me least. Anyway, I knew you had illicit behavior in you. I could tell. It’s in your eyes. Real recognizes real.”
“Renn? Shut up.”
“Fine.”
She sighs. “I think my new neighbor might be holding someone hostage.”
“What? Why?”
“I was sitting on my patio, enjoying my tea and doing some paperwork, and all of a sudden, this muted … banging was coming from that direction.”
“Maybe he’s doing construction.”
“Have you seen him? He’s not construction-y, and there are no work trucks or anything here.”
Huh.
I’ve seen her new neighbor a couple of times. He seems like a decent guy. We briefly chatted about running and the best place to get burgers. He didn’t seem weird or hostage-holding-y. But what do I know? People have surprised me before.
“I think it began last week. Not just banging, but thumps too. And I swear to God I heard screaming the other night,” she says. “It’s freaking me out.”
“Damn. How thin are your walls?”
“I had the window open, Perry Mason.”
I laugh. “Look, do you think you might be jumping to conclusions?”
“No, and here’s why—he’s hot.”
The line stills. I wait for her to expound on that brilliant observation, but she doesn’t follow her statement with anything more.
“Did he nab you too? It’s awfully quiet over there,” I say.
“You are not funny.”
“Bianca. Your reasoning for thinking your neighbor is holding someone hostage is that he’s hot. Have you listened to that out loud?”
“He’s extremely good looking, Renn. Beautiful. And attractive people always get away with stuff because no one suspects the gorgeous doctor in the gated community of wrongdoing.”
“Call the police then.”
“And say what?”
“That your beautiful neighbor is thumping on his walls, I guess. I don’t know. Come to think of it, how do you know he’s not just fucking his girlfriend?”
The line goes quiet again.
I sigh. “When I get home, I’ll come over and do some reconnaissance, if that will make you feel better.”
“Not if you’re just going to make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“I hear it in your voice, Renn.”
“So what do you want me to do? If you seriously think something is weird over there, call the police. I suppose that’s the responsible response.”
She groans. “Now I don’t know. What if you’re right?”
“It won’t be the first time.”
“I won’t dignify that with an answer.” She takes a deep breath. “Forget it. Calling you was a mistake. I’ll call Tate.”
My laughter is loud and immediate. “Why? So he can come over and shout mean things over the fence at him?”
She tries not to laugh but fails.
“Set your security system,” I say. “And if you hear anything else, call the police. Or Ripley, at the very least.”
“Okay. But I can’t be held responsible for anything right?”
“No, Bianca, you can’t.” I roll my eyes. “Anything else? I have reservations.”
“Reservations? Where are you?”
“Vegas. It’s Blakely Evans’s birthday, and I came with Brock for the weekend. I’ll be home on Sunday.”
She pauses. “So what are your plans while you’re there?”
I twist my lips, knowing exactly what she’s asking—without asking.
“Oh, not much,” I say. “Strip club. Shots. Might get married tonight. That sort of thing.”
“Renn Patrick Brewer, don’t you even joke about such a thing. You’ll lose your contract if you so much as breathe the wrong way, and Dad has hundreds of millions of dollars tied up in this Arrows purchase—”
“I’m aware. Damn. Don’t any of you have any faith in me?”
“Is that rhetorical?”
“Call someone else the next time you think you’re living next to an apex predator.”
“I will.” She takes a breath and blows it out. “Enjoy your night. Safely.”
“And safely enjoy yours.”
“Love you, Renn.”
“I love you, Bianca. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
Before I put the phone in my pocket, I enter a quick text just to piss her off.
Me: I can’t believe you’re helping your neighbor hide bodies! That’s wrong!
Sure enough, it buzzes in quick succession as I shove it in my pocket and walk out of the room.
No one is visible, and the suite is quiet. I start to check the kitchen. But just as I pass the staircase, movement catches my attention.