Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Oh shit, bad things are happening. I scream and kick in an effort to get away, but it’s no use because soon enough, we’re outside the bar. The melee continues indoors, so I doubt anyone’s even noticed my absence. But Sam pulls me over to a white van loitering at the sidewalk, and throws me inside by my hair as I scream. My wail is cut off by the slamming of the van door, and then the men make their way to the front.
Meanwhile, I scream as I collapse on the hard floor with a thud, and then immediately get up and try to search for a door handle in the darkness. But there’s no handle because it’s been removed so that passengers in the back can’t let themselves out. Even more, there’s a metal plate separating the back of the van from the driver’s seat, and I bang against it while screaming for help.
“Shut up!” Sam yells from the driver’s seat, his voice muffled through the metal plate. “You get what you deserve.” Then, the van pulls away from the sidewalk with a screech and I’m thrown off balance to land in a heap on the hard floor. What the hell is going on? In the midst of this crisis, I’ve been kidnapped by two lunatics who only want to inflict pain and savagery on my curvy form. But where is Ranger now?
8
RANGER
Oh shit, where’s Sydney? Where did they take her? As soon as I can stagger to my feet, I run out the bar door to scan the street, but it’s too late. A white van is screeching around the corner and I can’t make out the plates. Fuck fuck fuck.
Fortunately, I drove the Maserati here and within seconds, I’m in the car and chasing after the van. But where the fuck are they? My sports car weaves crazily between other vehicles as I swerve this way and that, trying desperately to find the van, but it’s disappeared into thin air. Fuck me! I have to catch up with them and get to Sydney before those two assholes can do anything to her because the fact is that I’m not exactly “friends” with Sam and Clement. They’re just pricks that I met on the job and we were friendly enough, but clearly, I misjudged them. Those fuckers better not touch a hair on Sydney’s head because if they do, I’ll kill them.
My thoughts race a mile a minute as I drive like a maniac, still swerving crazily. I’m trying not to panic, but this is a bad situation, and I can’t help but anticipate the worst. What the hell are those two lunatics going to do to her when they finally get to their destination? Of course, I saw how they eyed Sydney with looks of lust and envy when she walked into the bar, and their words ring in my head too.
“This fucker got to fuck a hot girl as part of the job,” Sam said when he first found out about the hijacking. “Why don’t we get the same treatment?” Now, the sentence replays over and over again in my head as I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Goddamn, I know I should have listened to my instincts because those jealous assholes are like children. They’re not able to control themselves and now they’ve seized this opportunity to literally kidnap the girl of my dreams.
Even more, I know I haven’t exactly acted honorably. I shouldn’t have hijacked the plane because it isn’t part of the TSA’s training initiatives. I don’t know what overtook me, and why I acted so impulsively, but what happened, happened, and now I’ve been fired.
But Sydney is an angel, and she doesn’t deserve any of this. She has a right to be angry with me for lying to her. But still, kidnapping? This is going too far, and I can only imagine what she thinks of this trip now, given that the curvy woman’s experienced both sex with a hijacker, and a kidnap attempt.
Fuck me. This is so fucking fucked up, and I could kill Sam and Clement. Where the fuck are they?
I drive aimlessly for a while, looking in desperation out the window for any sign of the white van, but it’s hopeless. After about an hour, I pull up to a safe house on the outskirts of London maintained by the TSA. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The Department of Homeland Security maintains safe houses all over the world, where clandestine operations take place. It’s my best guess for where to find those assholes, although of course, there’s no white van in front of the abandoned building.
But what other options do I have? I exit the car and enter the safe house, which isn’t much more than an empty space with crumbling ceilings and a few sticks of furniture. It’s deserted, and I take off again, disheartened. Where the fuck could Sydney be? I’m going to assassinate the assholes who took her.