Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
The door she’d entered through opened, and Bolt appeared. He grabbed her arm and towed her out of the room. She stumbled along, barely able to process her surroundings. He ushered her to another room, where he knocked.
The door opened to reveal a slightly overweight man with a bushy mustache and thinning hair. He wore a partially open shirt, showcasing his gray chest hair and two gold chains like a seventies porn director.
“Congratulations, sir,” Bolt said.
The man didn’t acknowledge Bolt at all. He stared wide-eyed at Brenna, who automatically took a step back.
“Hello, sweetheart, what a pretty girl you are. My name is Ron Wilson, but you may call me Mr. Wilson.”
Her knees wobbled.
Bolt shoved her forward and then pulled the door shut behind her.
The man caught her upper arms with a bruising grip. Thick rings on his fingers bit into her skin. The blatant hunger in his eyes made her sick to her stomach. Instant revulsion had her struggling to free herself from his grasp.
He frowned. “Now, Cindy, I was promised you’d be a good girl. I’d hate to have to punish you so early.”
“Let me go, you perverted piece of shit. My name isn’t Cindy.”
His shoulders sagged as he heaved a sigh as though genuinely disappointed in her. The next thing she knew, the back of his hand, gaudy rings and all, smashed into the side of her face so hard she crumpled to the floor. The bear flew out of her hands as the lollipop clattered on the tile floor, breaking into pieces.
Brenna screamed and cradled her face. It felt as though her eye had exploded out of the socket.
The man tsked. “You must be one of the new girls,” he said, sounding like he was speaking to a child. “That’s okay. I’m the perfect man to teach you how things work around here and make sure you obey the rules. Now look,” he said as he bent down toward her.
Brenna scrambled as far away from him as she could.
He tutted and picked up the lollipop. “You ruined your treat. That’s a shame.”
She gaped at him. Either she had a brain injury or was stuck in a nightmare. This grown-ass man was legitimately speaking to her as though she was a child.
“Don’t worry, little one,” he said, crouching beside her. “I have something else you can suck.”
It was then that Brenna realized that no matter how strong she thought she was, she might not make it until the Handlers found her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BY THE TIME they reached the posh club Lock would never step foot in under any other circumstances, he was vibrating as much as his bike.
Midnight had passed a few hours ago, and the parking lot only had about ten cars, all worth more than all the vehicles he’d ever owned combined. String lights twinkled from palm trees scattered through the parking lot. The club’s entrance shone bright with a white neon sign over a revolving door that glittered as though made of diamonds. It spoke of money, superiority, and exclusivity.
Fucking rich people and the shit they valued.
“How are we doing this?” Tracker asked. “Just busting on in?”
“Fuck yes.” Lock started to charge toward the door, only to be stopped by a giant hand landing on his chest.
“Hold up, Rambo,” Jinx said. “Give it a hot second.”
Scowling, Lock tried to bat his brother’s hand away, but the man was too damn big. “Fucking move, Jinx. Every second we waste, Brenna is in there suffering through Christ knows what.”
“I know,” Jinx said with none of his usual snark, only steadfast determination. It bolstered Lock, knowing how seriously his club brothers took this, especially Jinx, who had every reason to hate him. “That’s why we need to be smart. We have one chance to get her out, and we’ll blow it if we charge in there like a bunch of hot-headed idiots.
“Okay. You’re right. I know you’re right.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off some of the antsy tension.
“Good man,” Jinx said, clapping Lock on the back. “So what’s the plan, Spec?”
Lock shifted his attention to Pulse, who assessed their surroundings in a more subdued manner, as usual. He wore a large backpack stocked with medical supplies. The man was a walking emergency room. Most of what he carried he’d pinched from the hospital where he worked, but his expertise had come in handy more than once. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need his skills tonight, but Lock was grateful to have him there in case. Ty stood beside him, also taking in the area with a shrewd gaze.
“Ollie… rest in hell, motherfucker… said there’s a back entrance.” Spec cleared his throat. He cast a wary glance at Lock as though he didn’t want to reveal the next plot point. “Once inside the back, you can go downstairs to where they keep the women or stay up to where they do the auctions and have the rooms for the winners to collect their prize.”