Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Her feet started tingling and she let out a low moan of pain. It was like having a massive case of pins and needles.
All over her body.
“Can you shut her up?” the woman asked.
The man sighed, then put a piece of cloth between her teeth and tied it behind her head.
“Was that him?” the man asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
Oh frogbutts. This hurt. So bloody much. She tried to move, to help the pain, but she was still partially paralyzed. She took in a shuddering breath.
“Is he happy you got her?” he asked.
“He would have preferred we grab someone more interesting. Pippa or Alina would have been better. Two women corrupted by the ruling men of this country. The headlines would have been better than a washed-up, pathetic athlete. But he understands that it was far easier to get to her. And we’ve been following her long enough and gathering enough information that it should make the front pages.”
What were they talking about?
Who had she been talking to?
Obviously she was the washed-up athlete. And they had photos of her? Doing what?
Her head was spinning and her entire body was drained.
It was hard to keep up with what they were saying, but she tried her best.
“The reporter is going to publish some of the photos we have. Beloved athlete is corrupted by Escana. Used by multiple men. Headlines like that. We have a few intimate photos to go with the articles and some interviews from concerned citizens. Including the doctor at the hospital she saw.”
Who? There were only two. Jameson and Doctor Evans. Which meant it had to be Evans. Asshole.
“He’ll lose his job,” Rufus warned.
“We’re already moving him out of the country.”
“And you think people will believe all of that bullshit? That they’ll care? There are a lot of people who love the princess and the princes. They’re all rooting for them.”
“I know that, you idiot. Why do you think I joined the Purity Party?” the woman snarled.
Wait.
These guys were part of the Purity Party? And they’d been following her? It made some sort of sense.
But she still didn’t get how kidnapping her helped.
“We should have just released the photos,” the man muttered.
“That wouldn’t have helped him. He wants us to delay the wedding, and that’s what this will do.”
Maggie was in so much pain that it was hard to concentrate.
“Now, I need you to rough her up a bit for some more photos.”
“What? You want her damaged? But why? Won’t that turn people against us?”
“Don’t be stupid, Rufus. We’re not going to tell people that the Purity Party have taken her.”
“What makes you think the royal family won’t tell people that?” he asked.
“Because they rarely talk to reporters. And it would make it seem like they’re attacking us without any proof. Especially when we issue a concerned press release. Plus, they’ll be scrambling to find her and postpone the wedding.”
Oh God.
She didn’t like the sound of any of this.
Just as the pain started to ebb, the woman turned and left, leaving her with Rufus.
He cracked his knuckles. “I’m sorry about this, girl. Don’t really like hurting women. But it’s all for the greater good.”
Then he took a step toward her . . .
50
Jack couldn’t sleep.
He stared down at her bed. The way he did every night. Or every night that he hadn’t been in the bed with her.
Only now, she wasn’t in it.
Two days had passed since she’d been taken. And the only clue to her whereabouts was that one of the make-up artists had seen her talking to an older woman shortly before she’d disappeared.
That was fucking it.
He curled his hands into fists. Someone could be hurting her . . . right fucking now and he couldn’t do a thing to protect her.
She was his to protect.
Mine.
He’d known she was his for a long time. That’s why he watched her. Not because he was a psycho creep, although plenty of people would call him that.
But because he had to see her . . . to check on her . . . to know that she was breathing. He couldn’t rest without seeing that.
And so he’d watched her every night he couldn’t be beside her in that bed.
When they’d slept together, he’d kept his hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat. Knowing that she was his.
And you let her get taken.
He was never going to forgive himself. And he was never going to let her out of his sight. Maggie could complain all she liked about how he was suffocating her . . . about how she had rights . . . how she was independent.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
He didn’t give a shit about any of that. There wasn’t much Jack got possessive of. His childhood had taught him that possessions meant nothing. It was people who were important.
But he couldn’t care about just anyone. He didn’t have it in him. The only people he’d ever possessed were his mother, Ian, Jameson, and, to a lesser extent, Ian’s brothers.