Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
The shard of light had moved to the bed. Hours had to have passed. The first Friday of the month, after he’d let her see Niels, was the only day Doumar didn’t make her work. Maybe he knew she’d freak out and scare away the customers. Maybe he feared she’d snap one fine first Friday and kill him. She would, if she knew where he kept Niels. If Doumar would let her, she’d read his palm, but she could only enter his past or future with his consent, which he’d never give, knowing how easy it would be for her to trace Niels that way.
She secretly made a bit of money with fortunetelling on the side, money hidden in her horribly clichéd cookie jar. Whenever she had enough, she paid a private investigator to follow Doumar and track her son, but her owner was clever. Niels didn’t live on his property, and he moved the boy frequently, never leaving him in the same school for more than a few months. She’d probed before, but Niels knew he wasn’t to tell anyone anything. He said his daddy had said it was for his own protection. Doumar had him registered under a different name, one he wouldn’t give her, and he probably used a false birth certificate, because there was no child listed in the Dutch system with Niels’s name and date of birth.
Her neighbors’ laughter and fights reached her, making her aware of life outside her bubble on the floor. The light was gone. Only shadows stretched over the surface. Shivering with cold, exertion, and hunger, she hugged her knees to her stomach. She needed to eat, to keep her strength. The bark of a dog and shuffling on her step warned her of someone’s presence. The door opened to reveal a lanky figure with a box-style haircut in the dusk.
Doumar.
He kicked the door shut, flicked on the torch lamp, and crouched down next to her, studying first her face and then the destruction around her. With a sigh, he sat down on the floor, hooked his hands under her arms, and pulled her upper body against his chest.
“Shh.” Doumar stroked her hair. “It’s over now. A month is a long time. You’ll recover before your next visit.”
“I hate you.”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Careful. Don’t test my patience with you.”
Wiggling from his touch, she pushed to her feet. “Why are you here?”
Doumar never came to her private domain. It was an unwritten understanding between them. This space, a place she could call her own, was the only thing keeping her from falling off the brink of insanity.
He got up, kicking at the sheets that got tangled around his Docs. “Fix your face. Godfrey is waiting at the club.”
Alarm bells chimed in her head. “Why?”
“I have a feeling he’s about to tell us.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“He saved your life. If not for him—”
“I would’ve rather been dead.”
He closed the distance between them and gripped her hair so hard her eyes watered. “You’re a piece of property I’m not willing to let go of. Not just yet. Until the day I don’t need you any longer, you’ll live. You’ll only die when I say so.” He let her go with a shove.
She wobbled on her feet, gripping the table to regain her balance. “You signed away your freedom when you accepted Godfrey’s help. He’s not a man who does anything without a reason or agenda. He doesn’t save lives for nothing. The day of reckoning is coming, and when it does, I fear to know what he’ll ask of us.”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his shoulders tense. “I have a feeling it’s today, so put on your fucking whore make-up and let’s go.”
Taking a deep breath, she walked outside to wash her face in the metal bowl filled with water that stood on the garden table. When she got back inside, Doumar was going through her closet, selecting an outfit. She gathered her cosmetics from the floor and applied black eye shadow and pale lipstick. Doumar threw a pair of skinny jeans and a red wool sweater at her. Those were the most figure-hugging items she kept here. Her slutty clothes were at the club.
“Move your ass.” His lip curled up. “I’ll wait in the car.”
After dressing, she drew a brush through her hair and hurried to where Doumar’s car was parked in the street. She stopped dead when she noticed the Doberman in the back.
Doumar winded down his window. “Get in. She won’t bite.”
The bitch snarled.
“You know I’m scared of her,” she said.
“She’s well trained. She won’t go for you unless I tell her to. Now get the fuck in. We’re late as it is.”
Sky slid into the passenger seat, keeping an eye on Diamond. Her leash was tied to one of the coat rails above the window, the collar cutting into her neck.