Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 82824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Then there was nothing.
Blissful oblivion.
I woke up being jostled around, my body slamming down on something hard and cold. I felt my lashes flutter, but kept my eyes mostly closed, able to only see a slit of vision, but it was enough.
Enough to see that I was inside what looked like an old, dirty, gutted out train car, illuminated by construction lights hung from the roof of the car, the wires snaking out of the open doors where I heard some kind of humming noise. A generator. Outside the dirty windows, it looked like I was in a train station. Except it wasn't. Or, at least, it wasn't anymore. It was abandoned.
My captor turned back to me and I made my eyes shut completely, not wanting him to know I was awake yet. And then the weirdest freaking thing happened. He reached out and brushed my hair out of my face.
“Damn it,” he mumbled to himself, the words carrying some kind of weight that I found myself wanting to understand.
But then he was moving, from the sounds, away from me.
I slitted my eyes again and saw him manually closing the train car doors and doing something to them. I imagined, locking them somehow so I couldn't escape. Then he turned, shoulders slumped forward, as he tore up the staircase.
I slowly pushed myself upward, forcing my dead limbs to work, both annoyed and horrified when they moved like dead weight- completely useless to me. But I eventually got myself up into a seated position, looking around.
I was right. Gutted train car. There weren't even any seats. Just the metal hold bars for standing passengers and filth covered floors.
No. Not just filth covered.
Blood.
There was dried blood on the floor as well.
Damn it.
I knew it.
My heart refused to pound in my chest, still dulled by whatever drugs he had forced into my system. But the fear managed to permeate my foggy brain.
He was huge.
There was no way I would be able to fend him off. And I didn't have any kind of weapon on me. I was screwed. I was going to be tortured and end up in a dumpster or shallow grave somewhere.
Without taking down Lex Keith first.
God damn it.
All those years for nothing.
And he would just go on doing what he had always been doing with no one willing to stand up to him.
I might have been a girl. Young. Weak. But somehow I was the only one with the balls to chink his armor. How long would it take for someone else to step up?
Would anyone even bother?
I should have at least found a group who would release the incriminating evidence I had in the case of my disappearance or death. Just so the information was out there if someone started looking. So their job would be easier. God, I was so stupid. And arrogant. Thinking no one would touch me. That I had been careful. I had been careful. But there was simply no such thing as careful enough when you were dealing with someone who ran a criminal empire.
Great.
That was just great.
I should have created fall backs. I wasn't exactly dealing in legal operations. I was fucking with people's lives in my business. People got pissed off and did stupid things. Like having girls kidnapped.
And now I would lose the chance to do something that would mean something. That would make my existence worthwhile.
Damn it.
“Why aren't you looking for something to defend yourself with?” his deep, booming voice asked, surprising me, making me slam hard back into the wall I was propped against.
I hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. Or pry the doors back open. Or step into the damn train car. He was a ghost.
“That might have been an option if my limbs were working,” I said, sounding surly and my words slurred the slightest bit.
His shoulder lifted slightly and dropped. “Drugs will wear off soon.”
“Couldn't just rape and kill me now when I can't feel it?” I asked, my jaw getting tight in my anger. My anger that ran very heavily toward hot. Something that had always confused and troubled my mother growing up- how I flew off the handle, from normal to rage monster in two-point-seven seconds.
“I ain't gonna rape you,” he said, his eyes holding mine, willing me to believe him.
And for some reason, I did. At least on that point.
“So just killing me then. Wish I could say I was surprised. Are you going to make me suffer first?”
At this, his brows drew together. “The fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
I went to lift a hand, surprised when it followed the instructions, waving in the air. “How long do you have?”
With this, I got a sigh as he crouched down in front of me, his elbows on his knees. “You a criminal? Dealer? Thief? What?”
“Not a dealer or a thief. Why?”
“Because normal fuckin' people don't talk about their death like we're discussing what color you're gonna paint your fuckin' toenails.”
“I never said I was normal,” I hedged. It was the truth.
“You got yourself into something criminal if I was called in to take you.”
“What? Like you're a big deal or something?”
Honestly, I was curious. He seemed to carry himself like he was someone important. He had taken me with what seemed to me to be practiced professionalism.
I'd never seen him before. But, then again, I only had eyes for Lex and his associates.
“Yeah, doll, I'm a big fuckin' deal.” He paused, letting his words settle. “What you got yourself into?”
“Honestly, I don't know,” I answered. It was true enough. I really didn't. “I'm not exactly the kind of person who has enemies.” At least not enemies that knew they were my enemies.
“What do you do?”
“What?”
“For a living, kid. What do you do?” he asked, sounding impatient. Like I was trying his nerves.
Yeah, I felt real bad about that. Asshole.
Also, I chafed against the 'kid' comment. Maybe I looked young. And maybe I was younger than him, but I hadn't ever been allowed to be a kid.