Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Zephyr Galleries. Art gallery in Atlanta. Samson Zephyr owns it and lives in Buckhead,” Oz said into the phone. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes,” followed by, “I am.”
Then, he ended the call and stood up, sliding the phone into his pocket.
He hadn’t taken my plate from me, but I quickly ate the last of the eggs and grabbed the last piece of toast. With my other hand, I took the water bottle and held it close to me, watching him warily. I wanted to keep this too. I’d given him a man that I didn’t know, someone who might be as innocent as I was in all this. But Perry didn’t have a big friend circle. It was as small as mine was, if not smaller.
“Get up,” Oz ordered.
I slowly stood, wincing from my sore muscles. My eyes went to where I had seen him tuck that gun behind his back. I didn’t want it to come out again.
“Let’s go.”
His words surprised me, and my eyes flew back to his face.
“Where are we going?” I asked, afraid to be relieved.
He might be handing me over to worse people. Some who wouldn’t feed me.
He raised an eyebrow, as if I had no right to ask him anything. I felt like it was a reasonable question. I just needed to prepare myself if he was about to give me my death sentence. Now that they had a name out of me, they might see me as a waste of time. Bad guys in TV shows did not let their victims walk free. I wasn’t stupid enough to assume he was going to call me an Uber and put me in it.
“Do you want to stay down here?” he asked.
I shook my head, then stopped. Maybe I did. I mean, if it was here or death, I was going with here. “Um, I mean, if it’s safe to leave. If not…I think I can stay here longer.”
Those dark brows of his drew together again. “What?”
I sighed, then held his confused gaze. “Are you taking me upstairs to release me to someone who is going to kill me?”
Slowly, a smirk curled his lips. I didn’t see how that was an amusing question.
Psycho. He was a psycho.
“No, Winslet. You gave us a lead. You get rewarded. I’m taking you upstairs so you can take a shower, brush your teeth, put on clean clothes. Use a fucking toilet.”
My eyes flew open wide. “Really?” I asked in shock.
I hadn’t expected that outcome. Again, the guilt that I’d just given them the name of a man I couldn’t be sure was connected to anything was there, but the reward part might be worth it. Which made me a terrible person.
How would I sleep at night?
I glanced back at the hard concrete floor and decided I wasn’t going to sleep much anyway. I might as well be clean while I sat awake down here, feeling like the pits of hell were licking at my feet.
“You give me information that leads to your brother, and I will give you what you want. Well, at least the things within my power. Freedom is not one of those. Not until we have Perry.”
Right. But what if I couldn’t answer any more of his questions? That had been pure luck that I remembered that.
Shoving that panic away until the time came, I nodded.
I’d just be sure to make this one hell of an epic shower. I wondered if I could shower, then take a bubble bath. That would be wonderful.
Eight
Winslet
While I had been living in a basement that was dark, damp, and smelly, Oz had been living in the most fabulous house I’d ever been inside. The further he took me into the massive home, the more amazed I was. I felt like I had stepped back in time to the pre–Civil War South.
“Is this an antebellum home?” I asked, unsure if that was what they called them. I wasn’t very educated on architecture.
“It’s considered a Greek Revival mansion. I’d guess it’s circa 1832,” Oz replied.
The red-carpeted grand staircase he brought me to was so unbelievable that I had to take a moment and soak it in. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. I glanced over at the windows and saw the sun hadn’t fully come up yet. It was early in the morning.
“What time is it?” I asked because I had no idea what time we had arrived here fifty-eight hours ago.
“Five thirty,” he replied.
I tried to do the math in my head, but I was too tired and gave up.
“This place is remarkable,” I said, finally following him up the steps.
“Yeah, if you can overlook the past. Prejudice bastards built the place,” he replied dryly.
I hadn’t thought of that. I studied things as we climbed the staircase, seeing it in a different light now.