Chapter 21
Downstairs.
Adam goes downstairs, not thinking, not seeing. He’s blinded by rage, by pain, by himself. Like a whirlwind he tears by the receptionist, who ignores him. By Lewis, who sits in one of the lobby’s leather chairs grinning like a damned cat, as if he heard every word Adam and Paul exchanged upstairs.
Outside.
In the parking lot it’s already hot and bright—too bright. Adam yanks open the driver’s side door to his car and throws himself into the seat. The world shimmers as he tries to jam the key into the ignition. “f**k,” he mutters beneath his breath.
He doesn’t even hear his own voice or the way it threatens to crack, or the sob he barely manages to choke back. His palm is slick with blood that he wipes away on his jeans. He tries the key again.
This time it slid
