Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Three offices down. I count the doors, my heart pounding, my senses heightened. I’m so close. This doesn’t have to be any harder than the way Elena described it.
Sure enough, the lights are on in the third office. I could crumble with relief, but there was no time for that. That can wait until I get home. Right now, what I have to do is duck inside the office, open the top drawer and pull out… whatever it is I’m transporting, aka what I think is probably drugs. She didn’t describe what the package would look like, but something tells me I’ll recognize it when I see it.
It turns out, the drawer is empty except for a small, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper. There’s an address taped to the top. I’ll have to feed it into the Uber app as soon as I’m out of here, but I’m not going to waste another second in this place. I’d rather be outside, even if outside is pretty sketchy and dangerous-looking.
I tuck the package into my bag, then place a book and my phone on top of it. My hands are still shaking, even though I’m practically home free. Maybe it’s because, for once, something’s turning out the way it’s supposed to. For once, I might come out on top.
But first, I need to get out of here. I look both ways before ducking out of the office, then begin hustling my way back to the door practically on my tiptoes, just in case somebody is nearby.
“Over here.”
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
I’m like a scared rabbit, frozen in place, eyes wide and heart racing faster than a heart ever should. There wasn’t supposed to be anybody here! But voices are coming from somewhere ahead of me, in one of the aisles between rows of crates. I’m not sure exactly which one, but I know I’m going to have to pass it on the way to the door. They’re bound to see me, whoever they are. I stand in place, holding my breath, afraid they might even hear me breathing.
There are two men with deep voices, though I can’t understand exactly what they’re saying. It doesn’t matter. I duck behind a pallet of boxes held together by plastic wrap before creeping down the length of the row while looking around in a panic, hoping to find a lit-up Exit sign somewhere. There’s got to be more than one way in and out of here. It’s a freaking warehouse. There should be a loading bay somewhere, right?
As I wait like a sitting duck, all I can think is how I could kill Elena for getting me into this mess. What happens if some guy who works here finds me dressed like I am, sneaking around? I could be mistaken for a hooker.
I come to the end of the row, facing another narrow aisle before continuing down the next row of pallets. The voices still seem fairly close—and now, I notice something I didn’t before: the sound of their shoes on the floor. They make noise, telling me they aren’t working boots with thick rubber soles and more like dress shoes.
Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more terrified, it occurs to me these could be bad guys. Dangerous guys. The kind of guys involved with the sort of thing I’m now carrying in my purse.
Fuck.
I think I’m going to be sick. There’s no way I’ll get through this without puking all over the place.
What if they think I’m stealing from them? Without a doubt, they’ll kill me.
There has to be a way out. I move a couple of rows away from the men, closer to where I started, but it doesn’t look like any doors are along the far wall. They must be in the back, opposite the entrance I came through. Right now, as scared as I am, it might as well be ten miles away. Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I try to calm myself.
The only other option is to wait it out, and I don’t know how long they’ll be here. My thoughts run rampant…what if they’re here to do something a lot worse than pick up drugs? Something they wouldn’t want witnesses for?
My panic is growing by the second. I need to run. I need to get out.
Especially since it sounds like the men are on the move again, and shit, they’re coming closer with every step.
4
ENZO
There’s nothing quite like doing all the legwork for a big meeting—the research, the planning, developing an idea of how to respond to various questions that might come up—only to be left hanging when the other party doesn’t see fit to show.
I can’t help but growl at Prince, who’s listened to me bitching since we arrived and found ourselves alone. “This is bullshit. Is this how the man starts a relationship with a potential business partner? By leaving him to hang?”