“Of course. If you need anything, give me a holler, all right?”
“Thank you. I think I’m just going to nap.”
“Good plan. I’ll give you a call tonight to see how you’re feeling.”
“Thanks, Georgia.”
With that taken care of, I curl back up in the sheets and reposition all the pillows in an effort to get comfortable. I’mneververy comfortable, but I manage to lie on them in a way that everything hurtslessand drift off again.
The sleep is fitful. That sensation of falling hits me multiple times, jarring me and jolting me awake. I’m totally dehydrated, but in an effort to avoid having to drag my ass out of bed to pee, I forego any water. Beyond that, my stomach doesn’t feel so good. Every second, I feel like I’m on the cusp of dry heaving, but it doesn’t actually happen. My gut feels like a ticking time bomb, but I manage to slip into sleep again.
Some time later, the tightness of the Braxton Hicks rouses me again because this time it’s accompanied by cramping that’s hell of a lot like the period I haven’t seen in more than eight months. It’s too much to ignore, and the mid-afternoon light pouring in through my window tells me I’ve slept enough for one day, so I think a nice, hot bath is just what the doctor ordered. But then I pull back the sheet and am suddenly catapulted back in time to when I was thirteen years old and woke up to my first period.
Blood.Everywhere.
That’snota good sign. Despite being a pregnant person, I’m by no means some kind of pregnancyexpert, but even I know that’s not a good sign. In fact, I think it’s actually a reallybadsign, and I suddenly don’t know what to do becausefear,the likes of which I’ve never felt, has suddenly fogged up my brain.
My shaking hands act on pure adrenaline and instinct as I pick up the phone and dial the only person I suddenly want here with me. The only person who has any business being here if this is what I think it is; what I’mterrifiedit is.
This is literally only thesecondtime I’ve called Colin’s phone, so I’m sure he’s just as freaked out as I am. When he answers, the subdued panic in his voice only confirms that suspicion.
“Elle. What’s wrong?” he demands quietly, bypassing the greeting altogether.
“Colin.” His name comes out as a squeak on a stifled sob. “I need you.”
25
AN ALL-DAY TUESDAY SALES presentation.Yawn.
About eight months and what feels like a million life-altering changes after the engagement party weekend at the Reyes estate, Platinum Aviation has finally made the new PA6500 jet available for order to less elite clientele, so today, I get to talk about it in hyper detail for the entirety of the day. There are fifteenless elite, but still very high-value potential clients gathered around the long, sleek conference room table. The catered breakfast spread was removed from the room about fifteen minutes ago, and the lunch caterers are now quietly and discreetly bringing in trays of fancy meats, artisan cheeses, and scratch-made breads and croissants. A third of the people in this meeting are thoroughly distracted and scrolling on their phones, another third are eyeing the food, and there’s a handful of people who are actually hanging on my every word.
I click a button on the laser pointer to advance to a slide featuring a schematic of the jet. “Maximum range of 7,900 nautical miles, with the actual range obviously affected by speed, weather, selected options, and other factors. It has a four-crew capacity, and passenger capacity up to seventeen.”
Click.
Try not to yawn.
“State of the art avionics include a flight deck with advanced fly-by-wire technology. It features four large displays, including a head-up display, enhanced vision system, and a synthetic vision system. Beyond that, state-of-the-art graphical flight planning, multiscan weather radar including windshear detection, the latest in performance-based navigation, and—”
My train of thought is suddenly gone with the wind because the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. That sixth sense I always used to get when Archer was in some kind of trouble. The one I always get when I know something isfucked,and I just don’t know what it is yet.
Archer’s in prison, so the likelihood that he’s responsible for this particular sixth sense is low.
That only leaves one person.Twoactually, because they’re currently still a package deal.
My hands suddenly grow clammy, but I clear my throat and attempt to focus.
Click.
“Each PA6500 is uniquely designed with customizable suites for maximum comfort for both business and pleasure. The interior features large windows and essentially limitless flexibility in how each of its five luxurious suites can be configured. This unsurpassed freedom of design also extends to the meticulously crafted furnishing options that—”
My phone is now silently lighting up on the conference table. It’s about three feet from me, but the name flashing on the screen might as well be lit up like the Las Vegas strip.
Elle Kissinger.
Shenevercalls me.
Actually, she’s only called me once. The day she found out about Archer being arrested. An emergency, for all intents and purposes.
