Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Firstly, though, I need to find a way to stop the drugs.
Hound always shoves the needle into my thigh. Could I cover it with something? Stop it from penetrating my skin? I have nothing I could use, the shirt around my foot would be too thick and he’d notice. Frustrated, I stare up at the ceiling. How the hell am I going to get out of here?
Is Jackson close to finding me?
Has Hound made contact with him?
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything, and that kills me.
All I can think about is Ava, and if she’s safe. I know Jackson would be protecting her, but what if something happens, what if they get attacked or he gets hurt? Who is going to be there for her? I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen, and here I am, slowly fading away because I couldn’t keep that promise.
A salty tear runs down my cheek.
I reach for the water bottle and take another sip, I need to try and stay alive, it’s the very least I can do.
Hell, it’s all I can do for now.
THE MAN COMES BACK.
I was beginning to wonder if he would.
He has a large white shirt and a pair of women’s underwear. I could argue and demand to know where he got them, but, right now, I’d rather be anywhere than lying here in my own pee. Not that I’m doing much of it, considering how dehydrated I am.
He also has another bottle of water and a sandwich.
Obviously, he has been given instruction to keep me alive.
The fact that he’s here again and not Hound tells me Hound is out trying to claim what he wants.
Could I use this man to get out?
I can sure as hell try.
“Can you help me into a different spot?” I croak. “Please.”
He has a needle in his collection, and I know he’s been instructed to inject me.
Without saying a word, he leans down and hauls me up, taking a few steps and putting me down in a new, somewhat cleaner, patch of concrete. My entire body aches when he moves me, and I know I’ve been blocking out the pain. Plus, whatever Hound injects me with must have some kind of pain killer, because it seems to be keeping it at bay.
Tossing the clothes on the ground, the man orders me to dress myself.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I murmur, my voice crackly, “I can’t move.”
He mutters something under his breath, his blue eyes flashing with frustration like he’d rather be anywhere else. Then, with a curse, he runs his hands through his sandy brown hair and leans down, jerking the white shirt over my head.
“I’m not into stripping women naked,” he informs me, matter of factly.
“Well, I’m not into lying here dying, but here we are. Just reach up and pull my underwear off. Please.”
The last thing I need to do is make this guy angry.
He stares at me, hesitant, but growls and slowly reaches up beneath the long shirt, taking hold of my underwear and quickly pulling them off. He tosses them to the side and puts the new pair on my legs, slowly dragging them up. I close my eyes, hating how this feels and knowing Jackson would lose his shit if he were here right now, but it’s better than nothing.
“Eat, or you’ll die,” he orders once he’s done.
He puts me into a sitting position against the wall so I don’t choke on my food.
“If you stop drugging me, I might be able to eat,” I mutter to myself as I pick up the plain sandwich. “Do you even know who I am?”
He stares at me as I chew slowly.
“No. I’m not here to ask questions.”
Interesting.
“Then why are you here?”
“I owe debt. Hound is helping me.”
“Well, you picked the wrong guy for that job. He’s as evil as they come.”
The guy snorts. “Yeah. I know. He’s my father.”
I blink, my eyes widening. “Hound is your father?”
“Is it that hard to believe? I’m in here fucking holding you prisoner, aren’t I?”
“It’s not that ... I just didn’t know he had a son. I’m Hogan’s daughter.”
His eyes widen, and his head jerks back. “No shit. You’re the one who took out that entire club.”
I weakly raise a hand. “Guilty. I didn’t do it alone, though. And if asked, I’d do it all over again to be free of him.”
He murmurs something to himself that sounds a whole lot like, “I wish.”
Could I get this man on my side?
“We could help each other ...”
My words cause his back to straighten, and he shakes his head, as if snapping himself out of something. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. Eat your food.”
“Please, if you’ll just ...”
He turns and moves toward the door.
“Please. I’m begging you.”
He doesn’t stop; he opens the door and gets the hell out of here.