Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
He can’t die. I won’t let him die.
He’s walking toward an eighteen-wheeler, and I know—I just know—if we get on that thing, we’re screwed beyond belief. I need to get to Jensen, and I’m trying to get eyes on him over his brawny shoulder to no avail. I punch harder. Kick harder.
“Fucking bitch,” he growls, and the next thing I know, he’s flinging me inside the truck and across the trailer, my body crunching on the steel floor and crashing into the wall. Somehow, despite every ache in my body, I drag myself into a sitting position and do so just in time to see Jensen’s bleeding, broken body flung across the trailer toward me, a trail of blood following his body. So much blood. Too much blood.
My heart lurches, and I scramble toward him, to his side, only to realize the big man is standing over us. As if he’s traveled at super-speed. I gasp at the sight of him, and he grabs a chunk of my hair and jerks my head back.
He produces a vial of clear liquid. “Swallow it.”
I have no idea what it is, and I don’t want to find out. I jerk against his grip, but his hold is biting.
A gun appears in his hand, and he points it at Jensen’s head. “He won’t survive a bullet to the brain. You decide. Does he live or die? Take the drug. That’s your way of saving him.”
He means it. I see it in his eyes. He hates Jensen. He wants to kill him, if he hasn’t already succeeded. There’s too much of Jensen’s blood on the steel floor pooling around his body for him to survive anything more.
“I’ll take it.” I hold out my hand and receive a gloating smile in return. He disposes of his gun and deposits the vial into my hand, but the grip on my hair doesn’t loosen, instead tightening mercilessly.
I suck down the chilly liquid, coughing at a bitter cold sensation that feels more like fire than ice in my esophagus, seconds before the burn in my lungs begins.
The man squats down beside me, his big body pressing to my side, his lips at my ear. “My name is Tad, sweetheart, and I’m the man who just cured your cancer and became your drug dealer. That makes me your new sugar daddy.” He holds up another vial. “When you start shaking and you need another hit, we’ll talk about what payment I expect in return. If you miss just one dose of your new cure, you die from withdrawal. In other words, we own you.” He motions to Jensen. “Not him. Not any of his kind.”
His kind.
I have no idea what that means. He shoves my head and releases me, standing up to tower over me, glaring down at me with a lusty, dark look that makes my blood run cold. When he finally turns away, he’s a blur of movement before the steel doors slam shut.
Only one small light flickers overhead.
My fingers ball in Jensen’s shirt, feeling his wet, thick blood on my skin. Fear and anger collide inside me, exploding from me in a fierce yell. “Who are you people?” I demand. “What does that even mean?”
The only answer is my own heavy breathing. It fills the trailer, bouncing off the walls and back at me. My body tingles, and my lungs expand without one hint of pain or discomfort. But with the realization that the drug has done something for me, I feel no hope or joy. Any cure Tad offers me is a drug-induced facade and a nightmare.
“Wake up,” I whisper, pressing my hands to Jensen’s body and to his face, so much blood seeping through his clothes onto my hand. “Wake up!” Of course, the demand is illogical, but I need to know he’s still with me.
I check his pulse, and when his beat is steady, I work to pull off his shirt and turn it into a tourniquet, but he’s unmoving. I can’t get it off, nor can I tear it or cut it. I lay my head down over his chest, find the steady beat of his heart, and relax against him. His soft, rhythmic heartbeat is comforting, even as the truck begins to move.
It's the last thing I remember before blacking out.
Chapter six
Jensen
Icome awake abruptly, flat on my chest, but I don’t move, don’t so much as breathe. I don’t even open my eyes, allowing my body to absorb the hard and unforgiving concrete beneath my body. Discreetly, I inhale, reaching with my enhanced GTECH senses to find the familiar scent I’d hoped to never experience again—Groom Lake, now Julian’s Zodius City.
Stickiness clings to my shirt, but remarkably, considering the number of Green Hornets Tad unloaded in me, my GTECH immune system has kicked into gear, and my body feels nearly healed, which requires sleep—a lot of sleep. Translation: Someone removed the bullets, gave me a dose of vitamin C, and let me sleep at least twelve hours, if not more.