Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“She doesn’t know anything,” I yell. “I’ve been following her the last week because she wasn’t returning my calls. I followed her here,” I continue in desperation. I see Sam’s legs kicking—time’s running out. “It just so happens I found out what this place is called and secured an invite. I passed all the checks, all without Sam knowing. Let her go, please! You’re going to kill her.”
“And if I did, you’d be to blame,” Joseph snarls, releasing a gasping Samantha. She slips from the desk to the floor clutching her throat, red-faced and wheezing. “You see, the problem is, now you know more than your sister.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “What could I possibly know that she doesn’t? I don’t even know how she got the job here.”
I look to my sister and see a flicker of guilt. That flicker is enough to boil my blood. A flicker in the scheme of things is nothing. A mere brush-off. An insult to our relationship.
“I’ve got another,” we hear Joseph say into his cell before he pockets it. There’s a silent stand-off between the three of us, Joseph concluding he can gather more information from the tension in the room than he can by assaulting us.
The door smashes open and the same two men come in. Hauling Sam into the chair Joseph had occupied, they give her the same treatment they gave me until we’re both fully restrained. Mascara runs down my sister’s pink cheeks, and for a moment I feel sorry for her. She hadn’t expected this to happen when she was preparing for work earlier tonight. But another part of me wishes my hands were free so I could reach across and slap her.
“What a collection we have here.” Joseph smiles like an asshole, passing his victory gaze between us. “I certainly did not see this coming. But I must admit…” he crosses one arm and taps his chin with a finger as if in contemplation, “this could certainly be used to our advantage. Mine, I mean. It will certainly not be an advantage to you.”
“I don’t care what you have going on here,” I plead. “Just let us go and we mind our own—”
I’m backhanded across the cheek so hard my chair balances precariously until Sam wraps her legs around mine, effectively stabilizing me.
“I’ve got clients asking for Sam down—” The familiar voice cuts short when he rounds the door, eyes widening in horror when he sees his wife sitting tied up in front of him. He notices Sam in the same position and frowns in confusion. “What the hell is going on? Blythe, what are you doing here?”
Joseph bursts out laughing in amazement, and we all look to him thoroughly enjoying himself. “Ho-ly. Shit,” he exclaims. “Just when I think it couldn’t get any better.” He lunges for me, his hand knotting my hair, a Glock pointing up under my chin. His humor has now vanished, replaced by an unrivaled rage. “Now tell me again, what the fuck you are doing here?”
“Get the fuck off her,” Shawn bellows, making moves toward Joseph.
Joseph takes a swing in defense, but Shawn expertly dodges it. They grapple, jabbing each other when possible, both fighting for control of the gun. It fires into the roof once more, and Sam and I both scream and duck, not knowing if we’ll be hit next. The men fall to the floor, Shawn on top when he delivers a punishing blow to Joseph’s jaw who sneaks one in return. The two men who’d roped us return and, in seeing the commotion, wrestle to pry apart Shawn and Joseph. It takes some effort, the Glock sliding across the floor, the mass of bodies moving unpredictably throughout the room.
Finally, with the two men holding Shawn back, Joseph wipes blood from his lower lip and straightens his jacket. If he was pissed before, he’s raging now, nostrils flaring, a deathly promise in his stare. He drags the office chair around the table and adds it to his collection. The men, heavy-handedly, force Shawn to sit. One man leaves, most likely to find more rope, while the other battles to keep still an uncooperative Shawn. Having enough of the commotion, Joseph retrieves his Glock and pistol-whips my husband into submission. He’s left dazed, eyes fluttering before closing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam snaps in his defense. I know it’s the wrong time to be angry about their affair, but I can’t hide my disgust. She glances at me, frowning at my response.
Joseph again wipes his lip while Shawn’s wrists are tied to the armrests. “This sure turned into a fucking shit-show,” he growls. “Is it so hard for you bitches to give a fucking truthful answer?”
“We did,” Sam and I reply in unison.
Joseph chuckles at our supposed insubordination.