Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Chet, what the hell is going on here?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Where?”
“Here. At Aces Underground.” I lean in, lowering my voice. “May—I mean Seven, damn it—she told me that she had a friend who disappeared after her contract here was up.”
“People who work here often go on to greener pastures,” Chet says.
I scratch my arm. “But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something unsettling about this place.”
Chet’s grin widens. “Of course there’s something unsettling here. Everyone here at Aces Underground is a little bit outrageous, a little unhinged, Miss Wonder. I am, Rouge is. Your friend Mr. Hathaway is.” He narrows his gaze. “You are.”
I scoff. “I’m not.”
He chuckles. “Of course you are, Miss Wonder. Why else did you come here?”
I bite my lip. “Because Maddox brought me here.”
“That was why you came the first time. Why did you return?”
“Because he wanted to bring me back.”
“And why did he bring you back?”
I press my hands on either side of my head. “Oh, my God. Are you capable of giving a straight answer to a question?”
Chet cocks his head. “Are you?”
“You know what? I’m done here.” I put my hand on the doorknob.
“Miss Wonder…”
Chet’s voice slithers into my ear, making me twitch. It feels like he’s right behind me, whispering seductively, but when I look back, he’s still seated at his desk.
“Christ. What now?”
He tents his hands together. “You ask a lot of questions. But I wonder, Miss Wonder”—his lips twitch—“what you intend to do if you actually find what you’re looking for.”
I squint at him, unable to make head or tail of what he’s talking about.
“I came here for my credit card, Chet. That’s it.”
I open the door and walk into the alleyway, slamming it shut before he can say anything else.
24
MADDOX
Four forty-five p.m. I haven’t heard back from Alissa.
Did she not see my note? Does she think I ditched her?
I left it by the coffeemaker… But fuck. She’s British. She probably has tea in the morning.
But then why would she even have a coffeemaker?
Maybe for guests.
I rub at my temples, trying to soothe the troubling thoughts ping-ponging through my brain.
Her phone was dead, though, and I don’t think I saw her plug it in once we got to her place. And she certainly was otherwise occupied once we started making love.
Making love?
We fucked. Had sex. Did the nasty.
I don’t think I’ve referred to the act, even internally, as “making love” since…
Since Laurie. Fuck.
I’ve got it bad for this woman.
I shake the thoughts out of my head. She didn’t plug in her phone, so she wouldn’t have been able to text me back, assuming she did see my note. She probably has a shift at the hospital today, and even if she plugged her phone in once she arrived, she’d likely still need to be focusing on her duties.
I’ll start closing up the shop. I’ve had a few customers in today, and normally I like to stay open until six in case someone pops in on their way home from work, but I only got a few hours of sleep last night, and I’m exhausted.
I cross to the windows, preparing to draw the curtains when my phone dings.
I walk back to the counter and pick it up.
It’s from Alissa. My heart soars.
God, Hathaway, get a grip.
I unlock my phone and read the message.
Hey—sorry I’m just now texting you. Busy day at work. Can I come over to your place?
My dick hardens. Does she want to fuck again?
Suddenly I’m not feeling so tired.
I quickly text back,
Yeah, of course. I’m just closing the shop. You nearby?
Yes. I was able to take off early. My friend Dinah is covering for me.
Great. Just come in the shop when you get here.
She responds with a thumbs-up emoji.
A little businesslike, so I send a kissing emoji back to her.
No response.
She’s probably on the L. Even when it’s above the ground, cell service can be spotty.
I continue closing. I won’t draw the curtains quite yet because I don’t want her to think it’s closed when she arrives. Instead, I’ll count the cash in the register and put the day’s profits into my safe.
A lot of people who come here pay in cash instead of credit cards—I guess I attract a more old-fashioned demographic—so I have a decent amount to get through.
I hear the bell attached to my front door ring, and I look up.
Alissa is standing there, dusting her jacket off. She waves a mittened hand at me, but she’s not smiling.
I cross over to her and take her coat.
“Cold out there?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. It’s a balmy seventy degrees, quite temperate, as is often the case in Chicago in the dead of winter.”
I chuckle. “I see you’re in a playful mood.”
She frowns. “Hardly.” She lets her hair out of the messy bun on top of her head and twirls it around her finger. “I actually was just at the club.”