Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
She wouldn’t be allowed to escape.
She snuck down the short hallway to where the front room was. The open living area and the kitchenette.
A large screen TV on the wall was on, but muted, the glow from it flickering around the room. Colors from whatever show was playing illuminated the man sprawled out on the couch.
Sig only wore a pair of jeans, the button open, the zipper partially undone, one hand tucked inside. His eyes were closed, his feet bare, his chest full of tattoos. The arm tucked behind his head had a full sleeve, which ran all the way up along his neck.
The man had a trimmed dark beard covering his lower face, the sides of his brown hair were clipped very short, almost shaved, only the top left longer. But still not long at all.
Not like his brother.
His lips were parted and he snored softly.
If she was going to leave, now was the time.
She could walk out the front door and disappear into the night. She could be far away before anyone would know.
She could disappear. Change her name. Dye her hair.
Become someone else. Someone no one was looking for.
She moved quietly and quickly toward the door and slowly turned the knob. When she pulled, it didn’t budge.
She pulled again.
Nothing.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to the solid metal door and pressed her palm to it. On the other side was freedom.
She was so damn close.
She felt for a lock on the knob, but it wasn’t turned. Then she felt around for a deadbolt.
There.
There it was.
But there was nothing to turn. Nothing to unlock. The pad of her index finger slid over the slot where a key would go. She blew out a breath.
She needed a key.
She pushed away from the object that kept her trapped and glanced around at every surface where a key could be tossed. The counters. The tables.
Nothing.
Her eyes slid back to Sig on the couch. Then they landed on the leather vest he wore, which was hung over the back of one of the kitchen stools.
She quickly moved to it and felt for pockets. She found plenty of things hidden in them. Condoms, what looked like hand-rolled cigarettes or joints, a small folded knife, but not a set of keys or even a single one.
He locked her in and held the key.
She’d gone from one captor to another.
She’ll have to find another way, another time to escape. Tonight would not be it.
She moved back to the couch and studied the sleeping man.
He had helped her. He’d helped her escape that mountain.
Was he really locking her in, or was he only trying to keep her safe?
It didn’t matter, she had no way to escape at the moment. She was two stories up and had no way to climb out of a window and land on the ground without serious injuries.
And, if she survived, there’d be no choice but to take her to a hospital where the Shirleys could find her and lie about who she was.
Once again, the sting in her eyes surprised her.
Maybe it was once again due to the loss of hope.
Running through the woods, she had it.
Riding away on the back of his motorcycle, she felt it.
But now that sliver of hope seemed out of reach. Once again.
She headed back down the hallway. Stella was right. She needed rest.
Sleep and food would make her stronger, more capable of escaping, of thinking more clearly. Right now her brain was still fuzzy and she was having a hard time concentrating.
She quietly closed the bedroom door behind her and checked for a lock on the knob. There wasn’t one.
Of course.
The bed called her, but she ignored it to go to the large picture window, the only one in the room and she pulled the sheet away from it to peer outside into the night.
Her freedom was out there. Beyond this place. Beyond that mountain in the distance.
If the seed survived, she was sure she could bargain for her freedom in exchange. She would just need to hand over what grew inside her.
But as much as she didn’t want the seed, she refused to give it to them, either.
She’d never hand it over to people like them.
Never.
She hadn’t given them any part of her willingly and wasn’t going to start. She’d rather die first because she’d never be able to live with herself.
Her gaze swept the area next to the building where a couple of fifty-gallon barrels had fires burning in them. The glow of one picked up some movement from under what looked like an open-sided pavilion.
Steady movement.
She tried to focus on what it was making it.
Her brows pinned together as everything became more clear, in her sight and in her mind.
A man.
His pants around his knees. Thrusting.
A woman. Naked from the waist down.