Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

“How creepy is that that someone came up to me while I was sleeping and slipped them off. I didn’t feel anything. I felt so vulnerable after that.”

“But you have your car.” She lowered her voice to match mine.

“Now, I do. That story was from the first time I ran. This is the second time.”

Destiny reached out to grasp my arm. “Are they looking for you?”

I was afraid that she’d pull her invite away. At the same time, I wanted her to know I was on the run. “I don’t think so. Not this time.” I shrugged. “Never can tell, so better I work somewhere under the table. Keep my life in cash and no contracts.”

The bathroom door pushed open. “Yo, I can’t handle this place by myself. So if Jim didn’t give you diarrhea from his crap food, I could use some help out here.”

The door swung shut.

“Enjoy the beach.” Destiny reached for the door handle. “I’ll get a copy of the key made, and tomorrow, if you’ll meet me here after my shift, I’ll show you the place.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Striker would be home soon, and I had just finished a bowl of garlicky cold tomato soup from my favorite sandwich shop just a mile from my house. Garlic and welcome home kisses weren’t a great combination.

I climbed the stairs to go brush my teeth and gargle.

Sleeplessness was building up in my system. Dr. Carlon had impressed upon me how important it was for my brain health to maintain good sleep hygiene. This included a set go to bed time and a set time to rise and shine. Luckily, the kids were all pretty good about having their fun, then falling asleep fairly early. And all of them were good at sleeping in at my house.

Though their parents would tell you a different story. Apparently, when they slept in their own beds, the kiddos liked to pop awake with the bird song.

I picked up my toothbrush and squeezed out some paste, dipping it under the flow of water.

This would be my last night in my house until I could find a nerve to press on Destiny. I needed to talk to Prescott about this. Destiny seemed like a nice girl. She certainly didn’t seem like she was playing loose with the law. Was this FBI interest safe for her? I had seen how FBI missions could go off the rails, and innocent people were caught up and made vulnerable. I didn’t want to be part of putting Destiny in any kind of danger.

Now, if the FBI’s interest would ultimately keep her safe, then I was all for it.

Besides the lecture that Dr. Gupta provided to help me lay a better foundation for my own background story, nothing was shared.

Not unusual.

Just unsatisfying.

Yup, I needed to make sure there was a plan in place for keeping Destiny safe. And I’d ask some pointed questions about my own safety if I were living with her.

Forewarned is forearmed.

It could wait for Monday, though. I spat out the toothpaste foam and rewetted my brush to take another pass as I scrutinized myself in the mirror. My fatigue was reflected back at me, along with the bruise that was entering into the violet and lime color spectrum.

Some theater makeup would help.

Maybe some eyedrops to clear the red…

I spat out the last of the toothpaste, rinsed with water, then opened the medicine cabinet to grab some mouthwash.

When I did, my pack of birth control fell into the sink.

I picked it up and stared at it. Every single pill in the pack was still cuddled into the little plastic blisters encased by the foil backing.

Every. Single. One.

I checked the date to see if this was for next month. But no. It wasn’t. I hadn’t been taking my pills.

I grabbed my phone and checked the date. I should get my period in two more days.

Okay, the chances that I got pregnant while I was playing the canvas and Striker was painting The Garden of Eden was just about zilch.

I rubbed the knuckle of my index finger between my brows, trying to self-soothe so I could think clearly. Striker had been down range much of the last two weeks.

Had I gotten pregnant without discussing it with Striker first?

It felt calamitous to have been this absent-minded.

Okay, first things first, I told myself as I shoved my phone into my back pocket and scrambled down the stairs, grabbed my car keys, and leaped down to the sidewalk.

Reaper was just getting home, and I brushed past him with a hand up in the air that I hoped signaled, “Hey, how are you?” and “Sorry, I’m in a rush” at the same time.

I calmed my system as I started the engine, stalling to take a deep breath so that others would be safe around me when I drove—a quick trip to the pharmacy. Grab a box of PlanB and an early detection pregnancy test. Get home and pee.

There was no point in freaking out until I knew there was a reason to freak out— Wow, it was possible that I had just had a fight with three steel-toed gang bangers when I should have been protecting my child.

As I thought that, cold sweat slicked my skin.

Holy moly, what had I done?

Still no reason to freak.

Pharmacy. Home. Pee.

I could do this.

As I sat impatiently drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green, I decided that either way, I needed a GYN appointment. If I was pregnant, to do whatever it was that pregnant women were supposed to do, vitamins or something.

And if I wasn’t pregnant—oh please, please, please, don’t let me be pregnant without talking to Striker, to begin with, and making