Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“You have to leave. Quickly,” the mystery man said. He hadn’t moved from the place he’d been standing when I’d first turned around.
I didn’t want to scare her or hurt her, but he was right. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed four men were missing. So, I stripped off my shirt, draped it over her and bent down to gather her up as gently as I could.
She resisted. “Please, just leave. I don’t want to go with you,” she choked out between sobs.
I refused to acknowledge the twist of the knife in my heart, and I picked her up anyways. She fought to get down, but she was so weak it equated to little more than writhing in my arms. The struggle subsided quickly and she laid still in my arms, now huddling closer to my chest. I could feel the exhales of her breath against my bare skin. It was the most comforting thing I’d ever felt.
Up the stairs and out the door that led to the four-foot foyer, but the mystery man stopped there. “You’re not coming?” I asked.
“I’ve sat in front of those cameras for six years. Six years, and I didn’t do a god damned thing. I couldn’t. Or maybe I was just too much of a coward. I’ll do something now though. Stay here. As soon as I send the next text, get her the hell away from here. I hear it’s going to get awfully hot soon—like a big-ass bonfire.”
I nodded, but I needed to know, “Why?”
“She reminded me of my wife—looked an awful lot like her actually. Alicia was taken from me and sold eight years ago because I fucked up. When you showed up in the driveway, I knew you were looking for her,” he inclined his head toward Scar. “I guess I did what I wished someone had done for Alicia.”
Eight years ago. A girl who looked a lot like Scar. Fuck. It could be a coincidence, but what were the fucking chances of that? The girl Marcos had tortured. Guilt washed through me, but there wasn’t time for it. Not until Scar was safe.
I had a feeling mystery man intended to go up in a blaze along with the house, but who was I to object? Hell, if I’d lost Scar, I wouldn’t have lasted eight days, never mind eight years.
And the second the phone vibrated, the door unlocked and I took off, back along the side of the house to the car still waiting at the top of the drive. I placed her in the passenger seat as gently as I could and buckled her seatbelt when she made no move to do it herself. In the driver’s seat seconds later, I revved the engine, but then it hit me. The guard post.
As if reading my thoughts, the phone vibrated. “All clear up ahead,” the message read.
It was a good thing mystery man had been thinking further ahead than I’d been. I started down the drive with the phone still in one hand.
“Name?” I texted.
“Michael.”
“Thank you, Michael.” There weren’t many times in my life when gratitude had been warranted. This was one of them.
“Take care of her, Derek.”
8
Derek
I slipped the phone into my pocket and focused on the road ahead as we passed the guard post unnoticed. But now what? I glanced over at Scar. She hadn’t moved a muscle, and while her eyes were open, she seemed to be staring ahead, unseeing. My heart clenched. This was my fucking fault, I knew it, but I also knew it was the least productive path of thought at the moment. I forced down the guilt…for now.
She needed a doctor. Aside from the emotional trauma, her body was severely injured, and I didn’t know to what extent. The hospital was the obvious solution, but they provided substandard care at best and would raise a lot of questions. Fortunately, I had a private doctor on call who was good at what he did and didn’t ask questions. Technically he had originally been contracted by Marcos, but since Marcos had never really given a fuck about the medical attention his slaves required, I’d been the one in contact with him for the past several years.
A quick call had him ready at his home-based office, and I pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later. Fifteen silent minutes. She’d said nothing and she still hadn’t moved at all. It was as if killing Donovan had used up every bit of spark she’d had left. I never would have let her do it. If I’d known she was standing there with my gun pointed at the man who’d been a despicable excuse for a father, I would have fired first. Mystery man could have sent a signal text to warn me about that one! But it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. Just another way I’d failed her.