Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
After a few picks, I remove the padlocks and carefully slide the chains free, link by link, so they make no noise. I crack the door, inwardly wincing at the thought of an alarm going off, but there’s no power. The interior’s just as muggy as ever, and on the far side of the pool area I see a guard seated at a folding table, a candle lit for light. He’s got a magazine in his hands and is fondling his crotch absently.
Gross.
I hear Zohr’s chains rustle, and I know he’s trying to free himself again, flexing against his bonds.
“Shut the fuck up,” the guard lazily calls, then flips another page of his magazine and rubs his crotch again.
I freeze in place. Fuck. That’s Old Jerry. He’s the only one I’d have qualms hurting. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, like most of these idiots. He just makes poor decisions. He’s the only one who’s been nice to me in his own way. I hesitate, then pull my knife out anyhow. I don’t have a choice. If it’s Old Jerry or Zohr, there’s no question. Zohr never chose to be here. Old Jerry did.
I consider the best way to approach him. It’s shadowy in the pool room, but he’s got a handgun sitting on the table next to his candle, and I don’t want to get shot. I’m not sure how to approach.
I will distract him.
I’m not sure—
“Ohllzhherreee,” Zohr calls out before I can stop him. The name’s so thickly slurred that it takes me a moment to realize it—Old Jerry. Oh. I’m so startled at the sound of his voice that I pause. I know he’s in my head and I know how he thinks, but still hearing him aloud is…different. He’s all growly and fierce and untamed, and it’s both fascinating and a little scary.
Jerry freezes in his chair, his gaze flicking toward the empty pool, where the dragon-man is chained. He hesitates for a moment and then gets to his feet. I hold my breath, worried he’s going to take his gun with him, but he walks away from it, heading to the edge of the pool.
As he gazes down at Zohr with a confused look on his face, I move along the far wall, heading over to his seat. I feel a surge of triumph when my fingers close around his gun and I raise it in the air. Success!
I raise the gun high and point it at Old Jerry. “Turn around slowly and put your hands up, Jer.”
He stiffens, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Motherfuck.” He shakes his head. “I shoulda known you weren’t to be trusted. Pretty girls don’t last long with this crew.”
“I’m not with this crew,” I tell him, and gesture that he needs to sit. “Don’t make me shoot you. I like you. You’ve been kind to me.”
“Fuckin’ hell, girl. I don’t want you to shoot me, either.” He puts his hands in the air and slowly walks toward me. “Don’t know what you’re thinkin’, though. If you want to go, just go. I won’t tell no one nothin’.” He thumps into his seat. “Just don’t wanna end up with a bullet in my brain is all.”
At least he’s being reasonable. I pull out the handcuffs in my pocket and toss them into his lap. “Put those on.”
He curses under his breath but does as he’s told. I pull out my duct tape and start strapping him down to the chair, just enough to slow him down if I have to make a fast getaway.
“Told you, girl, I ain’t gonna put up a fight,” he says as I wind the tape around his legs. “This shit ain’t necessary. Dunno why you ain’t just goin’.”
“Need to take a friend with me,” I tell him.
At that, his lip curls. “So. You’re a dragon-fucker just like that other cunt, eh? Fucking disgusting.” He spits at me and it lands on my shirt. “Nasty bitch.”
I’m shocked at his attitude. It’s gone from almost grandfatherly and understanding to…hellish. “Wow, you kiss your mama with that mouth?”
“Fuck you, whore.” The look on his face is downright ugly and appalling. “I don’t want nothin’ to do with traitor sluts.”
“I take back what I said about liking you,” I tell him lightly, and then rip off a piece of tape to put over his mouth. “Now I see why you’re with these creeps. You’re one of them.”
He’s silent, but he glares at me as I finish up with the last of my duct tape and then pocket his gun again. I’m a little hurt at his vicious reaction, but I’ll get over it. Time to get Zohr free.
I hop down into the pool and race over to his side. I hate that he’s splayed out like a snow-angel, chains all over his arms and legs. His eyes are wide, blazing with a mixture of gold and black, and I don’t know what that means for his mood.