Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
The house is tricked out with cameras in every wall, speakers in every ceiling, and a red, orange, and yellow (“heat”) color scheme in every room. Every table is stocked with pamphlets explaining domestic violence, the charitable cause to benefit from tomorrow night’s fights.
Priscilla flits off with one of her camera people to pose for a photo with the assistant mayor—only in Las Vegas would the assistant mayor attend a porn star’s benefit—just about the time I start feeling sick.
It’s my back. I’m on my way to the bathroom when I get intercepted by Marchant’s cousin, Samuel. I talk to him for twenty minutes about some development ordinance he wants the city to pass. He wants me to help, and I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about. Too distracted by my stupid mistake.
I mutter an “excuse me” and shake my head. “Migraine,” I croak, and he says, “Ow. I’m sorry, man. Those things hurt.”
“They do.”
“Take care.”
Fat chance.
I spend the next five minutes in a froufrou yellow bathroom, where I text Dave and let him know I haven’t seen Smith or Lockwood yet.
‘I’m here, outside,’ he replies. ‘Lwd just arrived.’
Hell, yes. I’m stepping back into the formal dining room when I feel something trickle down my back. My stomach heaves—it’s blood—and I whirl to step back into the john just in time to see some woman shut its door.
Fuck.
I step toward the food-piled table, telling myself to quit being such a pussy, but the punch is blood red and there’s steak laid out on a platter right in front of me, swimming in...
Fucking fuck!
I set off down the hall, swallowing repeatedly, ignoring one of Priscilla’s cohorts, a pretty porn star named Cinnamon Vern. The nearest door is only steps away, and I’m reaching for the crystal knob when I hear Priscilla’s voice.
I lean closer to the door, but her voice gets softer. She’s not in this room, but she’s somewhere nearby.
I notice another door a few feet down and walk to it. In the seconds that follow, I hear a male voice, rising and falling in turn with Priscilla’s. I recognize it from a tape I heard in Marchant’s office: Lockwood. He says something low that I can’t hear, and Priscilla laughs.
“I ripped up his back. He’s trying to play it off, but he can barely walk.”
Lockwood chuckles, and my throat feels tight. My heart races as I stand stiff as a statue with my head leaned to the door.
“Go for his left shoulder blade. I think there’s some ceramic impacted, broken off from the end of my cat. It was swollen, and I noticed in the car he’s not moving that arm much.”
What the fuck?
“I don’t want to do that,” Lockwood replies. “I don’t give a shit about the fight, and it’s a bad idea to match me up with him anyway. I don’t want anything to do with that sonbitch. I’m keeping my nose clean.”
“Honey, there’s not a thing about you clean,” Priscilla drawls.
He says something angrily, but for some reason it’s muffled.
“Don’t be silly,” Priscilla says, and Lockwood groans, “Just finish the damn job.”
Priscilla murmurs something I can’t hear, followed by: “He doesn’t like to hurt a lady.” She snorts, like the notion is ridiculous.
“Which is why you’re supposed to make him like it,” Lockwood snaps. “And get it on tape.”
She laughs under her breath. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Yeah, because you’re thinking with your pussy.”
“He’s a good fuck.”
“Congratulations, now do you want to do time in prison, or do you want to frame this son of a bitch and go to Mexico with me?”
“Is she still alive?” Priscilla asks softly.
“Yes,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “Now get down on your knees and—”
I slip into the next room and get sick.
Elizabeth
I SEE LOVELESS WINCE, like it hurts to even think about. Juniper squeezes her arm and Loveless’s mouth flattens.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this,” Juniper murmurs.
Loveless shakes her head. “Scarlett should know.”
“If you think.”
I can’t hold it in anymore. “Are you talking about the girl who disappeared?”
They both freeze. I watch as their mouths curve down in unison. Juniper nods. Loveless says, “Yeah. She was my next door neighbor. Sarabelle. I trained her when she started. Three years ago, I think.” She opens her mouth, like there’s so much more she wants to say, but in the end she just shakes her head. “We’re praying for her.”
“It makes me furious,” Juniper says.
“Me, too, but here’s the thing, Scarlett,” says Loveless. “You need to know a girl disappeared from here. I don’t know if Richard told you but I want you to know. If you ever feel uncomfortable around any man, or something happens that doesn’t seem right, you need to let me know.”
I nod.
“Probably best not to bring it up,” Juniper advises me. “We miss her, some of us more than others, but we’re family here, so it’s a hole in all our hearts.”