Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Like murder you all in your sleep before you murdered him.
Rubix sidled closer, his fists balled by his side. “You’re right, Cleo. Thorn failed on so many accounts. Pity my hell-bound son put him out of his misery like a fucking dog.”
My heart free-fell as Arthur consumed my soul.
Arthur never wanted violence. He’d been content with love and numbers, only to be smothered by a life he didn’t choose.
Arthur … I’m stalling. I’m doing everything I can to drag this out. But I need you to get here now. Where are you?
The fear I’d been keeping in check crested again.
My time was swiftly running out.
Sighing, as if I’d grown bored of my tiresome subjects, I placed my hand on my hip, hoping no one noticed my tremble. My eyes fell on another biker at the end of the table.
Him.
The one who’d burned me in the Dancing Dolphin motel.
Alligator.
My skin crawled and the acrid scent of my own skin burning haunted my nostrils.
Traitor!
His beady eyes pinned me to the spot. He no longer wore a tan Pure Corruption cut but downgraded to a black Dagger Rose.
I struggled to stay in place. I wanted to launch myself across the room and see how he liked being held down and set alight.
Hiding the flush of rage and fear, I demanded, “What is this all about? You write me a fake letter. You burn me when I follow your breadcrumbs, then steal me from Arthur all over again. If you wanted to kill me—why not just kill me when I didn’t remember? Why not shoot me when I was alone in England?”
Rubix came up behind me, poking my lower back with a gun to march me forward. I recoiled but had no choice. I moved closer and stopped at the head of the table.
“Because this isn’t cut and dry, Buttercup. This isn’t about murdering you to hurt him.”
The wooden table barricaded my way as Rubix jammed me hard against the edge. His hand lashed up, encasing my nape.
“I don’t understand.” I winced as his fingers turned to pincers.
“No, you wouldn’t. How can I put this?” Nudging my ear with his nose, he breathed, “This isn’t about you. No matter what we do to you, remember that you aren’t the target—he is. If I wanted you dead, you’d be two fucking feet under and the beetles would’ve already enjoyed your taste. After all, you are a fucking delicacy.” His tongue slimed over my cheek. “But that isn’t my plan. My plan is to show him that all this time he thought he was better than me. Better than his own flesh and fucking blood. Well, he isn’t and it’s time he learned that the hard way.”
Shoving my head against the table with a vicious push, he glowered at the cracked out whores who’d traded their souls to pleasure devils on earth. “Get out, bitches. All of you.”
Cobra, who sat in the vice president’s seat, glared at the scantily dressed girls. “You heard the fucking prez. Move!”
Slowly, the rustling of cheap fabric and abused bodies shuffled from comatose into movement. The bikers smirked and occasionally swatted a woman on her behind as the girls traveled the gauntlet to the main exit.
My heart charged thickly, my body growing frigid from pressing hard against the table. Everything inside me wanted to follow them and leave this godforsaken place.
Take me with you!
The men stayed silent until the last girl disappeared in a flash of nakedness and cheap polyester. The anticipation hummed with an electrical charge—all eyes pinned on me.
With a curt nod, Rubix ordered a man I didn’t recognize to shut and lock the door.
The nucleus of fear grew larger until it opened its jaws like a consuming black hole. It sucked and swirled, urging me to jump into its terror and give in.
With every attention zeroed in on me, my skin goose bumped and prickled. Their interest cramped my stomach. Their lack of empathy and blatant disregard for right and wrong ratcheted my heartbeat until my palms sweated and legs begged to bolt.
Arthur … hurry.
Pausing just long enough to make a dramatic beginning, Rubix shouted, “We have her boys. Sarah fucking Jones.”
Some of the men frowned. “That ain’t a bitch called Sarah … that’s—”
“Hey, wait … what?”
“Thought this bitch was—”
Rubix rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, you’re a bunch of twats.” Pulling my face off the table, he choked me with his savage hold around my throat. His body singed mine, pressing hard like a living coffin behind me.
Even as terror suffocated me, I still scoffed at how stupid these men were. Before them stood a woman their president had waged a vendetta against for years. Yet they didn’t know my state-given name.
They should all die just for being half-wits.
“I know her name isn’t Sarah Jones, you dumb fuckers. That was the name witness protection gave her. Ain’t that right, Cleo Price?”