Chapters (31)
- Cover
- About the Book
- STORIES AT THE SPEED OF LIFE
- About the Author
- ALSO BY JAMES PATTERSON
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- EPILOGUE
- STORIES AT THE SPEED OF LIFE
I tell Hannah that I’ll meet her over in the coffee shop. Then I ask Claire if she minds going back to my house and waiting for me. It’s just a short walk along the beach path. Today is a warm day—maybe the last of the season—and I don’t think she’ll mind.
“Should I be worried?” Claire says, gesturing toward the coffee shop as Hannah steps inside.
“Not at all,” I say. “Hannah and I are just friends.”
I give her a long, reassuring kiss, and then I head to the coffee shop. Hannah is waiting in line, and I join her. She buys a regular coffee and I opt for a soda instead. I’m more of a sugar junkie than a caffeine addict.
Hannah insists on paying.
In our seats, she smiles at me, and I can tell there’s something on her mind. I wonder for a moment if she’s going to declare that she has feelings for me, and I realize I’m not quite sure how I would handle that. I’m falling for Claire—hard—but sitting across from Hannah, I’m struck with how much I like her. With the sunlight through the window catching her hair and bringing out the depth in her chocolate-brown eyes, she’s every bit as pretty as Claire.
In another life, I think, maybe she and I would have been meant for each other.
“Was that your girlfriend?” Hannah asks.
“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you. I guess you caught me off guard.”
I tell her that I met Claire the day after I met her. Hannah has a melancholy look on her face, like she knows she missed her chance.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she says. “I don’t want you to get mad and storm off. I just want to talk. As friends.”
Now I’m nervous.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half. She unfolds it and slides it across the table to me.
It’s a photocopy of a warrant for my arrest.
CHAPTER 13
“SHIT,” I SAY, and I flop back in my seat. I tilt my head back and run my fingers through my sweaty hair. I think about how much trouble I’m in.
The problem isn’t the warrant. The warrant is old. It’s from an armored car job that Marco and I did a few years ago. The police brought me in after the warrant was issued, but they ended up releasing me. No charges were filed. Not enough evidence.