Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
No, not just behind me.
Over me.
Even as that thought formed, I felt a hand grab a handful of my hair, yanking back hard enough for the pain across my scalp to send tears flooding my eyes.
I blinked at them hard, trying still to move forward.
But his hand just yanked harder, pulling my head violently to the side.
“Lex!” Carl called, making my gaze shoot over to where he was trying to get to his feet, but kept stumbling forward.
How hard had he been hit?
Hard enough for a major concussion? Or worse?
He had to stay down.
“No,” I said, my voice sounding tinny and small.
“Yes,” the man behind me growled as his hand released me to try to grab my shoulder instead.
I shrugged it down, then threw myself onto my back, knees to chest, kicking out with everything in me.
“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole,” I growled, pleased at how he howled as my feet struck true to his shins. But when I tried to kick him again, his hands grabbed one of my ankles, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.
“Knew I’d see you again,” he said, giving me a sick smile as I finally got a look at this fuck’s face.
I’d been right.
He had a big nose, dominating his face that was otherwise unremarkable. Thin lips, bushy brows, plain brown eyes.
I felt a small surge of satisfaction at the way his nose had a bump now. Likely thanks to me and my glass sugar container.
I stared, trying to commit his face to memory as best as possible. I was going to walk away from this, damnit. And when I did, I was going to tell someone who knew how to draw exactly what he looked like.
Then the cops or Finn or the whole fucking biker club could decide what kind of justice I deserved.
“You have no fucking idea how much trouble you’re in,” I said, voice strong and firm. Because I knew it down to my bones.
Finn would make him pay for this.
And I would be completely okay with that.
“No neighbors to save you now,” he said, grabbing my other ankle, and starting to drag me across the floor.
My shirt slid up in the back, and the rugs burned across my skin, the pain only managing to ratchet up my anger.
I had to focus through it, use it to fuel me, not overpower me.
I knew how this was going to go.
He wanted to hurt me.
And he wanted to rape me.
He wanted to finish what got cut short in the woods.
So I had time.
Time to figure out how to get away.
If nothing else, he’d struggle to get me undressed.
I hadn’t picked an easy to flick off jumpsuit today. But a pair of vintage jean shorts that were a little roomy, enough so that I’d needed to put on…
A belt.
I had on a belt.
The only one Finn had packed for me. With this bulky-ass buckle that was so big that it dug into my belly when I sat down, so I almost never wore it.
I wiggled my legs, trying to distract him, to keep him somewhat distracted as my hands rushed toward my belt, working the clasps free.
But I couldn’t pull it out of the loops while being dragged.
So I paused, waiting until he got me where he wanted me.
Close to poor Carl, who was sweating and green, the room likely spinning each time he tried to get up, to get to me, to help me.
What was his plan here? To rape me close to my boss? My real father figure? Was he that kind of sick?
Probably.
If there was one thing I knew from my Forensic Files reruns, it was there was no end to the depths of depravity human beings were capable of. Just when you think you’ve heard the worst of it, someone comes along with something infinitely more horrific.
I waited until he released my ankles, flattening my feet on the ground, so I could bridge my hips upward, giving me the room to free the belt.
He was fussing with his own button and fly, struggling when he caught his shirt inside of the teeth, and letting out a frustrated grumble.
I didn’t pause to think about it.
I just wrapped the leather around my hand, then struck out with everything I had.
The buckle end cracked against his cheek, catching him completely off-guard, making him cry out and stumble backward, his hand going to his cheek.
The shock only lasted a second.
Then his eyes were looking for me, filled with dark promise.
You’ll pay for that, bitch.
But I was quick, scrambling back to provide enough distance to get to my feet.
Then I swung out again, this time with even more momentum.
The buckle landed lower than I’d intended, though, catching him in the throat instead of the face, making him choke and cough.
When I cocked my arm to hit him a third time, though, his arm shot out, hand grabbing the belt.