Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“You're just putting off the inevitable.” I bang on the door. Surprisingly enough, she doesn't open.
“Go away!” she yells through it. “I'm not going with you!”
I hear the scrape of furniture being dragged across the floor, and then the door thunks. Fuck.
“Got a way with the ladies there, buddy,” notes Crank, grinning up at me.
“Oh fuck off.” I knock on the door again. “Paige! I don't wanna fucking break this door down, but I will. We’re not going anywhere. This is for your own good.”
Something slams inside. “For my own good? That’s a laugh. Is it my uncle that sent you? What did he tell you?”
“Look, he cares enough about you that he’s more interested in getting you back than reporting the theft to the police.” Is that true? Who the fuck knows. The listing said she’s a junkie and stole from him, but that doesn’t feel quite right. Gut instinct. There’s no one type of person that gets hooked on drugs. We’re all one bad decision away from fucking up our lives, but if she is, then she’s not deep in it. It shouldn’t matter. We get paid for doing the job, not making judgement calls about it, but somehow it feels like it does.
“That’s a joke! He's just trying to save his own sorry butt!” she yells back. More slamming. What the fuck is she doing in there?
“I'm coming in. Back away from the door.”
“Stay out!”
The door creaks but hardly budges when I slam my shoulder into it. Solid, but not impossible. I slam into it again and the creak gets louder.
Crank rolls his shoulders as he climbs the stairs. “Move.”
“I don’t take fucking orders from you,” I snap.
He snorts and flips me off while giving me the most sarcastic please I’ve ever heard.
We've been friends way too long to pull rank, at least right now. I know he’d throw himself on a grenade without hesitating, but he’s a stubborn motherfucker with very little respect for authority. Besides, he's right. I'm strong, but he’s a force of fucking nature.
“Coming in,” Crank declares, then throws his bulk at the door. It only takes the one hit to make the door split with a loud crack, right down the fucking middle. Behind it, a dresser was pushed into the way, but it’s too small and light to put up any real resistance of its own.
Paige has a lamp in her hands, ready to club us with it.
“Jesus, we're not gonna fucking hurt you.”
“Yeah, right. If you take me back, my blood is on your hands!” Maybe she really is high on something and it’s the paranoia speaking, but there’s no question that her fear is real.
“Put that down, honey. How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen? I’m sure you’re scared, but we’re just going to keep you from hurting yourself, okay?” I move forward slowly, hands out in the open.
“Please. The best thing you can do for me is to just leave and forget you saw me. I’m not causing any trouble and I’ll be gone tomorrow. How can I convince you to leave me alone? I’ll do anything.”
Crank chuckles. “Anything? You need to think before you speak, girl. You're fucking gorgeous, but we don't work like that. We're professionals.”
“I didn’t mean that!” Her eyes go huge, and for a moment she forgets her fear long enough to be shocked instead. “That's not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I look around her little hideout over the garage. It's simple. A cot, a moth-eaten rug, a little table with two rickety wooden chairs. Nothing on the walls or anything to make it look even remotely like anything but what it is, a hideout. Temporary crash space. “Nothing personal, honey, but I don't think you’ve got anything else worth our time.”
She draws a shaky breath and licks her lips, thinking. Meanwhile, I follow the journey of her tongue, storing the fantasy of what she could do with that mouth for later. Just because I’m not low enough to let her sell herself for safety, doesn’t mean I’m made of fucking stone.
Paige stands up straight and puts the lamp down. “Maybe I do. I’m supposed to be a thief, remember? I’ve got money. Let me go and I'll split it with you.” She hesitates. “H—half.”
“That’s cute,” I say with a laugh. “How much you offering? A hundred bucks and free hashbrowns at the diner?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars. Cash.”
4
PAIGE
They look at me like I just dropped out of the sky. I can’t tell what their answer is going to be, but I’ve at least shocked them into taking me seriously. I’m in so much trouble. I’ve been terrified to use any more of the money than I absolutely have to, but look where that got me. At this point, how much worse can it get?