Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
"This is a nice place," she says as she steps into the living room. Rich emerges from the hallway and she jumps.
"Well, hello there," he says, his eyes raking over her. Sofia spins around to face me; her face drained of all color.
My brows pull together as I frown. "I'm sorry," I say as I step toward her. She screams and goes running for the door, but I grab her shoulders and hold her in place. She thrashes around, shouting.
"Get her fucking hands, Rich."
I feel teeth rip into my forearm and I grit my teeth. She somehow yanks one arm free and punches me in the mouth. My lip throbs as warm blood trickles over my chin. I take hold of her arms, shove her against the wall and spin her around. Using the weight of my body to hold her in place as Rich ties her wrists together.
Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the blood from my split lip as I stare down at her. She's bound and gagged, but still squirming around, trying to get out of the restraints.
Rich eyes me. "How long do I have to keep her?"
"Until tomorrow. I hope." I squat down in front of her, and she closes her eyes. "Sofia, I am sorry, but I need your father to do me a favor, and this is the only way I know he'll do it." I pull my phone out. "All you have to do is scream, okay?" I stand up and walk a few steps away from her as I dial Stan's number. I put the call on speaker.
"Hello?"
"Stan, I'm gonna need a little favor from you, partner."
"Who is this?"
"Oh, now, don't worry about who the fuck this is. What you need to worry yourself with is who the fuck I have." I lean down to Sofia, her eyes welling with tears. "Sofia, wanna tell your father hello?" She screams against the gag. I wedge a finger beneath the cloth and wiggle it free. The tattered material lips down her neck and her screams bleed through my ears.
"Daddy! Daddy, please help me. Please..." she sobs. My chest tightens. This right here is fucked up.
His breath is audible over the line. "If you hurt her in any way—"
"That's all up to you. All I want is Joe Campbell. You do as I say, she'll be just fine. You don't..." I swallow because I haven't really thought about what I'll do if he doesn't. I don't want to think about that shit.
"I'm not a man you wanna fuck around with. I'll just say that."
"Please don't hurt her." There's this edge of desperation to his voice, and I know just how he feels which makes this harder than I want.
"You will not call the cops, the feds; you will tell absolutely no one about this. You do, she dies." Sofia's sobs grow louder, and I attempt to block them out. "I'm going to call you tomorrow, and you're going to meet me. I'm going with you to pick that bastard up. You let him know anything and one of my guys will kill her. I will not give Sofia back to you unless I get Joe. You understand that?"
"Daddy... please. Please do it. I don't want to die!"
"You're not, baby. Daddy's not going to let these bastards hurt you." He pauses for a moment. "You don't give her back to me, and I will find you."
"You do as I asked, and you won't need to go to the trouble."
I hang up the phone and stare at Rich. "Feed her. Be nice to her. Don't fucking touch her!" My gaze falls to Sofia. "I will ask you if he hurt you, and you will tell me the truth." I turn back to Rich. "You don't hurt her, and I will give you a quarter mil. You touch a hair on her fucking body, and I'll kill you."
He rubs his hand over the back of his thick neck. "Yeah. Got it."
"Your father just works for the wrong man, sweetheart," I say as I turn toward the door to leave.
I'm sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee in front of me. My gun is in pieces on the counter, and I'm cleaning the barrel.
The screen door bangs open, and Jude walks into the kitchen. He looks exhausted, and he's wearing... "Are those chinos?"
He glances down. "Yeah. Don't ask," he grumbles.
His eyes skate over the dismantled gun, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. I shrug. "You know you have issues, right?" he says.
"Um, have you looked in the mirror? This right here..." I wave my finger at him. "Is issues. Have you got... hair gel in your hair?" He swipes his hand roughly through his hair. "I thought I told you not to ask?" He seems agitated about something. "Grumpy," I mumble, turning my attention back to the gun.