Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
He reached for his shirt, making all those muscles twitch and flex, and I felt something I didn’t think my body would be capable of ever again.
A flutter of desire.
Primal, undeniable.
But absolutely horrifying to the part of my brain that was so tormented and traumatized.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sensations to go away, as I listened to Riff clean up the bathroom, then make his way out into the bedroom.
He flicked on the TV, but lowered the volume down, likely thinking I was asleep, and not wanting to wake me.
Eventually, there was a light tap at the door, and Raff got up to let his brother in. There was the rustling of plastic bags and the click of the door and slide of the locks.
“She asleep?” Raff whispered.
“Yeah,” Riff answered. “I think she’s probably going to be doing a lot of that,” he said.
“Did you get a chance to talk to her?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t want to go to the police.”
“I’m not surprised,” Raff said. “I mean, she’d have to be poked and prodded, tell someone all that shit over and over. Maybe even go to court and face that motherfucker…”
“Yeah,” Riff agreed. “He has to pay, though.”
“He will,” Raff said, sounding certain. “I’m sure Slash just wants things to calm down before he lets us come back to clean up.”
“Yeah,” Riff agreed. “It will give us a chance to get Vienna settled, too. Around some of the girls who might… know what to say or do. I don’t know what she needs to hear.”
“I dunno. I think you’re doing something right. She’s comfortable with you. Even after everything she’s been through, and how much she must be scared of men, she’s okay with you around.”
“Maybe,” Riff agreed. “I’d be happy if that was the case. But I think we need to really pay attention over the next few days. Dunno how being trapped in a car is going to go. Might feel like she’s being held again.”
“We can take it slower than usual if we need to. I got all the maps out,” he said. “Did a little research on a burner. Lots of road work going through the usual route through Texas and New Mexico. Figure that means a lot more cops than we’d be comfortable with. So, that leaves a route that cuts up through Colorado.”
“The weather might be a risk this time of year,” Riff said. “But it’s early still.”
“Bonus points for Vienna getting to see some bison and moose.”
Under the covers, I felt my lips curve up ever so slightly at his words, that he would think about what sights I might enjoy at all.
As much as some part of me was afraid that I would always look sideways at men, would always fear the worst from them, these two seemed to be proof that there were some good men still around too.
I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of their voices as they plotted the exact route, complete with fuel stops and food and rest stops, and the hotels or motels where we could spend our nights.
It was practically a lullaby.
And I fell into a deep, peaceful, dreamless and fearless sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riff
She woke up with a gasp, shooting up in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest, her eyes huge and unfocused.
With an ache in my chest, I realized this was likely how she’d been waking up for months. Afraid of having been unconscious for so long, unaware of what or who was around her, not sure what might be done to her.
“You’re okay,” I said, voice as soothing as I could make it. “You’re in the motel with me, remember?” I asked, watching as her head snapped in my direction, unseeing for a moment, then slowly relaxing as she realized I was right.
“Oh,” she said, looking embarrassed as she reached up to brush some of her hair out of her face.
It was a copper shade of red now that it was clean and dry, and it was a really pretty contrast to her gray eyes and the freckles over her cheeks, forehead, and the bridge of her nose.
Vienna slow blinked, her gaze moving around the room.
“Raff went to get coffee and breakfast sandwiches,” I told her.
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing toward the windows, but the heavy, hideous paisley drapes were pulled against the light. We’d wanted to let her sleep in as long as possible.
“A little after seven,” I told her. “We have to be out by nine, but we have plenty of time to have an easy morning. How does your ankle feel?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s… it’s okay,” she said, brows pinched as she looked toward her blanket-covered leg, like it hadn’t occurred to her to think about that wound. Why would it? When she’d clearly had open wounds there for months?