Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“How about that. Look at the treat you brought me today. This is a nice one. I might want to sample her first.” I hold back my shiver of disgust so he can’t sense my fear. He grabs me around the shoulders and quickly pulls me out of the car and throws me over his shoulder. The bastard hurriedly moves into a small building out of the fading sunlight to avoid any passing cars on the road. The blood rushes so fast to my head that a new wave of nausea causes the spins, and I’m a little off on my surroundings.
“Boxer, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?” my cousin says. He looks like a damn underground heavyweight boxer.
“She is,” he says, leering at me with a dirty look in his eyes and licking his lips.
“Let me go, you filthy fuck.” I kicked him violently, attempting to break his hold. It almost works, and he nearly sends me falling to the ground. The prick must be used to dealing with women like me, and he snatches me up in a more precarious position, holding me tighter.
He smirks as he tosses me into a cage. Fuck, this isn’t good. “Oh, feisty, is she? You never told me that.”
“Well, we had no idea. She’s a little mouse.”
“Let me steal your freedom and see if you cower, you dirty cunt,” I hiss, grabbing the metal and tugging on it, but it’s useless, so I spit on the fucker.
He wipes his face with the back of his hand while glaring at me. “Watch your mouth, little treasure box. You don’t need teeth to suck dick.” I try to still my expression, but I can’t stop myself from clamping my lips shut.
“Don’t want to lose profit on a precious commodity,” James says, stopping the wrath of my jailer.
“True. We have enough crackhead whores. A pretty little skirt like her would make a killing even if she’s not a virgin.” I slide back into the far corner of my small enclosure and consider my options. There aren’t a lot of ways out of this.
They step out of the room, and then suddenly only two men rush back in: the man who carried me, and a new man. I recognize him from my time with Dylan. He was on his security team, and he brought me my things to the hotel from Dylan’s condo. I see him, and I believe he’s here to rescue me.
“Oh, no. Is that you, Harley?”
“Yes, please help me.”
I move closer to the edge of the cage. He stares at me lecherously, and I try to move back but I’m too late—he already has the cage open and drags me out by my hair. “Oh, my, my. Finally, I’ve got you alone.” He brings his face to mine, about to kiss me when his eyes drop to my chest. “What the fuck?”
“I told you to take the fucking necklace. It has a damn tracker. Hunter put it in there to follow her ass.” He violently rips the chain from my throat.
“No,” I scream.
“What? You’re upset that your boss can’t come to find you? He’s not looking for you anyway. He’s too busy sitting at home like a lost fucking puppy.” He laughs maniacally, and I’m growing more terrified by the moment. There’s something different in him than the others. They’re greedy and unscrupulous. He’s insane.
“Who are you?” I question, scrunching my eyes as I try to remember his name. I know that I’ve seen him around many times, but his name isn’t ringing a bell.
“What? You’re going to play dumb with me?”
“I don’t know your name or anything, other than you work for Dylan.”
“Bitch,” he roars, slapping me across the face. “You ignore me, but drop to your knees for him.” He huffs and attacks me. Damn it. I feel the strikes until the other guy pulls him off me.
“Chill the fuck out.”
“Sorry.” I groan and lie there, still.
“Leave her for now. Let’s dispose of this shit.”
“We’re going to have to move her now that he can trace this.”
“Damn it.”
“Well, she’s fine for now. Let’s go have a drink and think about our plans. She’s not going anywhere for a while.” The second they leave the room, I make my way to the door on my tied hands and knees. The rope digs into my wrists, twisting with each inch I move. The pain is excruciating, but I’m able to get to the door that isn’t locked. Fucking idiots.
I open it just a bit because there is a light nearby that can seep into the dark room. I shimmy it open just enough so that I can scoot out, and I make a break for it. Getting to my feet, I look around and dash back to the main road and start running.
Even with the pain racking my body, I use my skills as a runner and push through it, remembering that I’ve run on bloody, blistered feet before. Unlike before, my hands are tied, so I fall just a quarter mile from the little shack. I heard them shouting, so I duck down. As I do, I find my savior—scrap metal on the road. Keeping myself ducked in the overgrown brush, I used the metal as a knife and sawed my ropes over it until my hands were free.