Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Norman nods hard enough to make me dizzy as Gage says, “Yes, ma’am, we do. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to make this right. Pay Chris back plus interest, turn ourselves in to the police, whatever he feels is best.”
“But I really don’t want to go to prison,” Norman squeaks. “Tammy and I are finally making it work.” He motions toward his head. “And I’ve got a baby face and these long eyelashes. Every girl I’ve ever dated said something about them. How pretty they are, how thick and luscious and all that. I really don’t want to hear that from a hardened con who wants to be my boyfriend, you know? I really, really don’t.”
“I’m not going back behind bars,” Unger says, his slimy gaze raking up and down Starling’s body. “No pretty girls in prison. You look even better in person, by the way, Foxy. I like a tall girl with legs long enough to wrap around you twice.”
“I like nothing about you,” Starling says pleasantly, meeting his leer with a cool smile. “You’re a slimy thief, and you have a rat mouth.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Unger asks, his tone shifting from smarmy to threatening.
“It means—Your mouth. Looks. Like a rat’s mouth,” Starling says slowly, patronizingly.
A part of me is proud of her for giving this asshole shit, but the fact remains that he knocked me unconscious. Unger is dangerous, and I don’t like her standing that close to him.
Before I can tell her to head into the office to call 911, she adds, “The yellow teeth are part of it, sure, but it’s the shape of the mouth itself that’s the problem.” She cocks her head to one side, her brow furrowing as she seems to consider something. “Or maybe it’s the giant nose that’s really taking it out of ‘needs dental intervention’ into full on rat mouth territory.”
“If I were you, I’d shut your mouth. Before I shut it for you,” Unger says softly, puffing up his chest as he takes a threatening step toward Starling. He’s a couple inches shorter than her five eight, but he’s a strong man and to my knowledge Starling isn’t an expert in self-defense.
“No thanks,” Starling says, looking utterly unfazed. “I don’t think I will. I’m not scared of you, either. You’re a mean little shit, for sure, but there’s only one of you and four of us. Try something and see how fast we make you eat concrete.”
Unger reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a butterfly knife that he opens with an expert flick of his hand. He points it toward Starling, making my heart lurch into my throat as he says, “I’d rather see you eat my cock.”
“Run, Starling!” I shout, attempting to stand only for a wave of renewed dizziness to send me to my knees before I get two steps from the bed.
“Stop it, Unger,” Norman says as Gage helps me up.
“This isn’t what we agreed to,” Gage says, keeping his arm around my waist as I find my balance. “Let the girl go and get out of here. We won’t call the cops until you’ve got a head start.”
“You’re not giving the orders here, old man,” Unger says, advancing upon Starling as she backs slowly toward the door. “I am. And my boys will be here in ten minutes to pick up the cargo. We’ll see what we decide to do with you then. If you wise up and help out, maybe you get to live. If not…maybe you don’t.” His tongue slips out across his bottom lip. “Either way, this little porn star is coming with us. I’d like to make some more movies with her. Good ones, this time. Without any dumb costumes.”
“No, I insist on costumes,” Starling says, the slight tremor in her voice the only sign that she’s starting to lose her cool. “I’m a costume girl. Can’t get into the mood without one. I’m also going to need snacks, my flattening iron, and my emotional support skunk.”
“Is she weird or soft in the head, Chris?” Unger asks without glancing my way. “I can’t tell, but I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck a dummy.”
“And I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck a skunk,” Starling says. “But I think the skunk is probably going to fuck you up first.”
Unger snorts. “What?”
“My skunk. It hates slimy, thieving bigots and doesn’t like you one little bit.” Starling points behind him, drawing my attention to the little black-and-white striped hero toddling in from the office to save the day, snorting and chirping up a storm as she bounces toward Unger’s feet.
God only knows how Bella got back there—the only way in would be through the window I know I closed and locked—but I’ve never been more grateful for her escape artist skills.