Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“What’s goin’ on here?” Jagger asks, entering the room from the hall, his eyes going to me.
“Nothin’, boss. She just offered to cook for us,” Snake says, calmly.
He gives the men a look, then narrows his eyes and focuses back on me. I give him no expression, my soul is numb. I continue cooking, and when the men retreat downstairs for beers, I get an idea. Maybe my mind has had enough, or maybe I’m just on the verge of losing it, but I’m going to get the hell out of this place, and I’m going to make sure they can’t follow me.
I go the cupboard where Jagger keeps the first-aid kit and dig around quickly through the medicine cabinet. Jagger has only gone for a second, and I know it won’t be long before he returns. He knows I can’t escape just yet, I’d have to run past all the men to get out the door, but that doesn’t mean he’ll leave me alone for long. I shuffle through a few bottles of pills, when I finally find what I’m after. A jar of laxatives.
A feeling of overwhelming strength washes over me.
I walk over to the simmering sauce on the stove and carefully crush each tablet up and put them in. The entire bottle. I take a tiny taste, to make sure it’s not too obvious, but the delicious sauce I’m making to go with the chicken rules it out. I take a knife and tuck it into my pants just as Jagger enters the room again, beer in hand. His gaze finds mine, and once again, I don’t change my expression even a touch.
I don’t want to hurt Jagger, because out of them all, he has been the best to me, but I can’t stay here any longer either. This pathetic lust I feel toward him is nothing more than some twisted version of Stockholm’s syndrome, and I’m not risking letting my brain take me there. No, I’m going to make them wish they never met me.
Voices drifting up the stairs cause me to snap back to reality and I jerk, hurriedly finishing the meal. Dropping a bean onto the floor, I reach down for it and wince as the pain becomes almost unbearable. I stand upright and see Jagger in the kitchen, eyes on me. He reaches out, curling his fingers around my arm. “What’s wrong?”
If he finds out that Snake hurt me, all hell will break loose and my plan will fail. I bite back my furious response as I jerk my arm from his. The motion causing pain to radiate through my body.
“My back is sore because I’ve been locked in a god damned room for fucking weeks.”
He makes a sound of frustration at my snarky response but doesn’t say anything further. If I look at him, he will see the way my lip is beginning to tremble. I’m breaking. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I need to go home. I take the plates of food to the table, and when I place Jagger’s down in front of him, he pushes it away.
“I’ve eaten.”
God dammit.
I won’t cry. I won’t.
“But thanks, I’ll have it tomorrow,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my face.
Why does he have to look at me like that? With that beautiful expression? He’s making it so damned hard for me to want to do this. I don’t want to have to hurt him to escape, but I will. I’m so god damned fucked up. He has completely screwed my mind and I’m crumbling with every passing second.
The men all scoff the food, typical male style. Then about fifteen minutes later as I’m finishing the washing up, Angel grips his stomach and groans. Soon all the men are groaning and holding onto their stomachs with desperation. Jagger looks over at me and the rage in his eyes has me running out of pure fear. I rush out of the kitchen and, hearing his footsteps close behind mine, I know I’m not escaping this house right now. I run into his bathroom, slamming the door and locking it, before dropping to my knees and letting out a loud cry as the pain becomes too much.
“Open the fuckin’ door, right now,” Jagger roars, pounding his fists on the frail timber.
I slide out the knife, this is my only chance. Jagger kicks and shakes the door, but he can’t open it. Well-built house. Cars begin roaring to life outside, and I know the men are making a break for it. I just locked myself in the only bathroom other than the one in my room, and they’re all going to need one very soon. This is my chance. The only chance I’ll get. Jagger is alone. It’s just me and him.
And, for the first time, I have a weapon.