Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
In the front window, she puts on her goggles and focuses on her work.
After searching The Vultures, I took my private elevator to the parking lot. As I expected, she hadn’t left the lot yet, having taken the busier elevators the rest of the company used.
As I followed, I told myself it was for her own good. But the longer I sit here, the more difficult it becomes to ignore the conflicted motivations in my tangled mind. Would I do this for any other woman, or is Evie Davis just too damn interesting?
Loud engines rumble from the end of the street. Three motorbikes drive down the street, big bulky looking men with violence in their postures. I’ve been around enough dangerous people to see the intent in their hunched-over, focused frames.
The bikers park just around the corner from her apartment. The tool Evie is using must be making some noise, because she doesn’t look up at the sound of the engines.
She admitted to running from the Vultures, so if she’d heard them, she’d know she was in danger and make a move to escape, surely. I lean forward and see that, sure enough, there are vulture images on their patches.
I can’t leave now.
If they’re here for Evie, I need to do something.
One man steps from his bike and takes out of his helmet, laying it on the seat. Standing tall and wide, he sports a thick brown beard. He lights a cigarette and stares at the apartment building with his head tilted. He looks like an animal appraising a possible kill.
I clench my fists and whisper under my breath, “Just try it, motherfucker.”
CHAPTER 2
EVIE
Focusing on my work usually brings me peace. I’m working on a ring of twisted metal, but I’m distracted. Meatball, my rescue Persian with a squashed face that always makes him look mad, reclines in the sun on the windowsill. But he’s not what’s distracting me.
It’s my roommate, Tasha, on speaker. “To me, it’s obvious you liked him.”
I laugh quietly and, I hope, convincingly. “He was a douchebag. The whole time, he was smoldering at me like he was some kind of bigshot.”
“Smoldering is an interesting choice of words.”
“Staring.”
“But you said ‘smoldering.’”
I don’t reply for a few moments. That describes it perfectly. He wore a shirt with his sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone, as if to advertise his hulking muscular build. His hair was black with threads of silver that made him look both youthful but with the perfect mix of maturity and experience.
When he looked at me, I felt… seen. It was as if he was interested in me for more than a job. At certain points during the interview, it felt like a date.
“Let’s say I had certain thoughts about the brief conversation,” I mutter. “But I’m certain I was just getting carried away. It means nothing. I know better than to feed those fires. It can’t lead anywhere good. I needed a job. He saw through my lie. The end.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much.”
“Even if you were right, what do you expect me to do? Rock up to his offices in Century City? ‘Hey, Mr. CEO, my roommate thinks we had some chemistry earlier, so I’m thinking you should take me on a date.’”
“It’d be easier than getting a job.”
“Urgh, no. I’d rather be poor than be some rich guy’s plaything for cash.”
“Then urgh, you’re crazy.”
Meatball purrs as if to agree with Tasha.
“If that makes me crazy, I don’t want to be sane.”
“I’ve just never heard you like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re interested in a guy.”
I turn off the soldering iron and raise my goggles. “Tash, maybe you’ve got a point, okay? There was a certain… vibe. And at the end, when he got close, I won’t lie. It was quite something. But it doesn’t mean anything; I’m never going to see him again.”
There was a moment right at the end when I thought he was going to come after me. My heart was pounding from the sudden physical contact, and I was certain there’d been a glimmer of interest in his dark brown eyes, but he didn’t. Life goes on.
“Hey, relax, I’m just busting your lady balls.”
“I need to get a job. That’s the bottom line. I need to make rent, somehow.”
“I told you, I don’t mind loaning you an extra month.”
“I know you don’t, and you’re the best friend in the whole freaking state, but I don’t want to be a leech.”
“You’re not a leech.”
She’s nice to say that, but how else am I supposed to describe myself when I take and take and don’t give back? I borrowed one month already after the restaurant closed, and I lost my job. Since then, I’ve applied for dozens of positions, but I’ve had no luck. When I saw the ad for Russo Multimedia Group, I knew I had to give it a shot.