Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
With surprising quickness, he grabs my foot and yanks. The cuff cuts into my arm as I’m stretched as far as I can go. I try to fight this man off with my free hand, but he easily swats it away. He’s yanks at the top of my pants, ripping the button off in one tug. Then he starts peeling my uniform slacks off my body.
He’s going to rape me as promised.
God, I can’t do this.
Think of Dempsey.
Dempsey, sweet Dempsey.
I’m flipped onto my stomach and my arm screams in pain at being twisted. Then a punch to my back has me in so much pain I vomit.
He punched me where I got shot.
That bastard.
Someone is sobbing hysterically and it takes me a second to realize it’s me. I’m crying. No, I’m freaking the hell out. I may be a tough cop, but even this is too much to deal with.
I need help!
But help isn’t coming.
My panties are torn painfully from my body and dirty fingers probe at my ass crack. I wish he’d just kill me instead. That would be more preferable to what’s coming.
Shouts.
Lots of men shouting.
Bright white lights start dancing all over the barn in every direction. Chaos ensues with people yelling and crashing into things. Prez lets go of me, taking off in a bolt. I whimper and sob, painstakingly trying to twist my body back around. My ass meets the dirty hay floor and it’s a relief. I’m trembling so hard my teeth keep clacking together, but all I can focus on is pulling my uniform pants up to provide some sort of protection. Heavy boots thud toward me, causing me to shriek, shying away from my attacker.
“It’s okay,” a smooth, deep voice says. “PMPD has arrived. Let me get you uncuffed.”
A light from somewhere in the barn reveals my rescuer.
Andre Bishop.
I open my mouth, ready to scream at him to get away from me, when he brutally grips my jaw, cutting me off.
“Say a single word and I’ll finish what Prez started,” he warns, voice low and dangerous. “And then I’ll do the same to every goddamn person in your family.”
Another man rushes over to us. I recognize the nauseating cologne immediately. Bishop’s partner, Ethan Montgomery.
“Grab the kid,” Bishop barks. “Right there. I think he’s injured. I found Thurman. She’s in bad shape too.”
“Fuck,” Montgomery growls. “I hope every single one of these assholes goes down for this.”
“You and me both,” Bishop agrees.
I’m too stunned, and frankly terrified, to speak. Bishop unlocks the handcuff, finally freeing me. I’m too weak to stand on my own and am forced to lean against him once he has me on my feet. More tears freely fall down my cheeks.
I’m not dead and neither is Trevor.
I need to get to safety before I can figure out a way to bring Bishop down for all this. In the shape I’m in right now, though, I’m powerless and relying on his physical strength to get me out of this barn.
Once outside, the chill of the fall air makes me shiver. Bishop crushes me against him. Bile burns my esophagus, making me wonder if I’m going to puke again. I hope I do it all over him.
EMTs rush over to nephew, immediately taking over for Montgomery. More EMTs come to my aid. Bishop gives me a painful warning squeeze on my arm before releasing me to them.
I’m free.
I’m free from that psychopath.
Tanaka stalks past me, giving me a nod and an apologetic smile. I’m confused that I didn’t just receive another reaming for getting involved with these bikers again. Instead, I see him stop Bishop. He says some words that have Bishop backing up, but then Montgomery and another officer are manhandling him into cuffs as Tanaka reads him his rights.
Am I imagining this?
Nope.
They put him into the back of a squad car and shut the door. Tanaka and the other officers are talking, but the EMT asking me questions and probing the back of my head distracts me.
“Ma’am, tell us where you’re hurt.”
“I, uh, got hit in the back of the head. Then punched in the face.” I grimace. “And punched in the back where I was recently shot.”
A wave of nausea has me gagging.
“Were you sexually assaulted?” the woman asks, gesturing at my unbuttoned pants that aren’t doing anything to hide what my panties would have if I still had them.
“N-No, well, y-yes. I, uh, he didn’t get to penetrate me, b-but that was the plan.”
She nods, a sad look on her face as she covers my lower half with a blanket. The next few moments are a blur as they check my vitals inside the back of the ambulance. Before we leave, someone enters the ambulance and sits down beside me.
“Thurman.” Tanaka stares down at me, an unreadable expression on his birdlike features. “I’m sorry.”