Enough whining. Seven days and you'll never have to do this again. One hundred sixty-eight hours. She did some quick arithmetic. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. She called Jo on her speed dial.
“I'm here, Josephine. What's the room number?”
“It's twenty-two oh one, darling. It's on the top floor. A penthouse suite.” She paused, perhaps having heard the quaver in Andi's voice. “Honey? Are you okay?”
She swallowed hard. “Just fine, Jo. Just fine.”
“Good. Now, you listen to me, girl. If this guy mistreats you, or you get a bad vibe, don't be afraid to cut and run. Get out quick. You've got the emergency numbers, don't you? And don't hesitate to call the cops. I still have some friends in the department here in town. They'll take care of you if you let them know you're my friend. If this
