Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
It was obvious.
Happy reluctantly uttered, “Because they’re a thing.”
“Because they’re a thing,” Julius repeated, sighing under his breath.
Ling was suicidal if she thought The Dragons would look past this transgression.
No. They’d have her head on a platter.
Maybe that was the smartest way around our problem, to let her destroy herself.
“Okay.” I looked out the window of the moving car. “Let’s go have a word with the Turk.”
The house was a fortress. It was huge, imposing, and they had security to match Alcatraz. But we had something they didn’t.
Happy.
From the backseat, he typed quickly on the laptop. “Give me a sec.” He kept typing. “They’ve got two consecutive systems running at the same time. It’s confusing.” His fingers moved fast along the keyboard. “Okay, I’m getting there now.” The sounds of buttons clicking was doing my head in. “One more command and—” He hit Enter. “—they’re offline.” He looked from me to Julius. “Let’s go. I don’t know how long till they realize and send someone to fix what I fucked up.”
Pulling the hood over my head, I stepped out of the car and opened the app Happy installed on my phone. I pointed it to the three-door garage and hit the button. One of the doors began to rise, and I turned back to Happy, my face solemn. “Fuck me.”
Happy simply lifted a brow and grinned.
The man knew his shit.
The right technology in the wrong hands was a dangerous thing.
We all moved inside and I hit the button again, closing the door behind us. There was a door at the back of the wide-open space, and when I made it there, I gently put my hand to the knob and tried to twist, but it had no give. It was locked. Julius lifted his hand and tapped lightly next to the keypad attached to the door. I stepped back as Happy moved in, opened the plastic casing, and fiddled with the wires. Moments later, the red light turned green, and when Happy tried the knob, it turned.
We were in.
The moment the door opened, a feminine voice called out, “I thought you said you were going to be late?” We moved down the hall, weapons drawn, and she went on with, “Well, I just started season three of Game of Thrones. Come watch with me.” She chuckled. “I swear to God, Az, this stuff is so screwe—” When she came into view, her head jolted in shock, her wide eyes darted between the three of us, and she whispered, “Oh.”
The young woman in the wheelchair was overly thin, her big brown eyes wide with fear, her long black hair pulled into a low ponytail. She wore a thick sweater and had a blanket pulled over her lap. Her full lips parted in distress, as she spoke quietly, “Are you going to kill me?”
I felt like an asshole. She was clearly unwell. But that wasn’t my problem. “I don’t know yet.” I stepped closer to her, my tone gentle. “That depends on your husband.”
Surprisingly, she held my stare with the strength of the queen she was. “Well,” she sighed. “He’s not going to be home till late.” She used her hands to spin the wheelchair around and started to move slowly. “So, come on in, I guess.”
We followed closely behind her, and when she made it into the cozy-looking family room, she settled herself in front of the heater, taking in its warmth, rubbing her legs and wincing. She looked back and swept an arm out toward the sofa. “Sit.”
Before I sat, I went to her and held out my hand. “Phone.”
Looking up at me with those haunting eyes, she pulled her cell out from under the blanket, and I saw the Messages screen was opened and the single word written there was Help. Luckily, she hadn’t sent it yet. My eyes narrowed on her and she shrugged, appearing mildly sheepish. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
No, I couldn’t.
While Happy and Julius sat on the sofa with their guns out, I pulled up a stool from the breakfast bar and sat by the frail-looking woman. She watched me closely, and I uttered, “You probably don’t remember me—”
But she cut me off with a matter-of-fact, “I remember you.”
Okay. Good.
That was good.
Then she knew what I was capable of.
We didn’t speak for a while after that, but when the hour mark passed, I was getting bored of waiting. When I saw the woman’s eyes blink slowly, tiredly, I cleared my throat. The second her weary eyes settled on me, I uttered, “What’s wrong with you?”
The words weren’t cruel, just curious.
She smiled sadly. “Multiple Sclerosis.”
I sighed in sympathy, shaking my head lightly. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She grinned, but it was so strained it came out a grimace. “Maybe you’ll put me out of my misery tonight.”
No, I wouldn’t. “Yeah, maybe.”