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I had one contact linked to it.

Cam.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to shoot out the message without looking too much.

Help. 5150. Didn’t do it.

That was the best I could manage before the woman looked in my direction again.

If there was anyone in the world who could help me, it was Cam.

He would knock on the door of every lawyer, every judge, every single person who could try to get me out of this situation.

I just had to give him a little time.

Until then, I was going to need to do my best to come off as, well, sane.

Because that was exactly what I was. Even if the situation was crazy. Even if I felt like I was losing a bit of my grip on reality since there were blanks in my memory, since I knew I didn’t drug myself or slice my wrist.

So what happened?

Was that not the Chinese at the door?

If not, who was it?

What did they have against me?

Was I supposed to actually… die?

Who would that help?

“Miss Coulter?” the doctor asked, coming in.

And so it begins…

Whether I liked it or not, whether I needed it or not, it looked like I was going to the mental institution.

CHAPTER TWO

Brock

“Who are you hiding from now?” Tig asked as I rushed into his office, pressing back against the door. “Pretty widow?”

“I wish,” I said, grimacing. “I’m hiding from Terry,” I admitted.

“Terry. The delivery woman?” Tig asked, swiveling in his chair to face me.

“Yeah.”

“Explain that one to me. The only women you hide from are the ones you’ve hooked up with.”

“Yep.”

“Terry’s gay.”

“One hundred percent,” I agreed. “Her girlfriend, however…”

“For chrissakes, Brock,” Tig sighed, dropping his pen on his desk so he could properly rub his fingers between his brows.


Tags: Jessica Gadziala Romance