Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
That explained why it was so cold in this room my breath billowed in front of me. Large warehouses were often not heated when they weren’t actively in use, due to the cost of heating such large, open spaces.
Unfortunately, knowing that I was by the docks didn’t really help me unless I could get out of this chair and find my way out of the warehouse. If I could manage that, there should be tons of people around, including security guards and dockworkers.
Sure, a few probably worked for the mob, but I was willing to bet most were just hard-working people trying to make a living.
I had to believe that.
Otherwise, there was no point in trying to get free.
They would kill me anyway.
CHAPTER 40
EDDIE
I pulled at the zip ties on my wrists, the plastic cutting into my skin.
Thankfully, the cold numbed most of the pain. I pulled with everything I had, but I couldn’t make the zip ties budge.
I tried again, pulling as hard as I could, trying not to let out the scream of rage and frustration that pressed against my lips, ignoring the pain biting in my wrists. I closed my eyes, and I thought of everything that I had worked for so far, everything that I was so close to finally achieving.
I thought of the cold, restless nights and the shit apartment I survived, including that fucking landlord who had tried to insinuate that my rent was going to go up unless I performed sexual favors. I thought of every single act of indecency and insult I had suffered in the last twenty-four years of my life, and I refused to let it end like this.
It wasn’t uncommon for some women with my background to end up dead before they were twenty-five from overdose, suicide, assault, rape, or other acts of violence, whether random or perpetrated by the ones who were supposed to love and protect us. I refused to end up like those tragic girls. The statistics of impoverished women would not claim me.
Harrison had called me stubborn, and he had no idea how right he was.
Then his face popped into my head. Not the stern look he wore at the office when he was so absorbed in his work that the little line between his brows started to form. Not the proud-looking lift of the corner of his lips—not quite a smile but not a smirk—he had when he put something together that he knew no one else had yet figured out.
No, I thought of the Harrison that I was pretty sure I was one of the only people he showed. The Harrison who looked like the vibrant young man he actually was. When he genuinely smiled, his entire face lit up and his intense, dark blue eyes seemed to glow. When he laughed, truly laughed, it was with his entire body.
Then there was the triumphant smirk he got when he knew that he had made me come harder than I ever had before, when he knew he owned my body and could control everything. That was the Harrison I thought of, and I promised myself I’d make it back to him, redoubling my efforts to force apart the plastic straps binding my wrists together.
Two clicks. I managed to pull the plastic apart two clicks. But thankfully, that was all I needed to wiggle one hand through the loop and free myself. My wrists were bright red, and there were even a few spots of blood that started to smear the white button-down shirt I had stolen from Harrison before I left his apartment. I rubbed the tops of my arms, trying to get the blood flowing and some warmth into my limbs before I bent down and tried to wiggle the tie at my feet. Thankfully, having only one shoe made freeing my feet far easier and less painful than it had been to free my wrists.
As quietly as I could, I stood up and, after shaking my limbs to restore blood flow, stepped out of the bright light that was hanging over my head and waited just long enough to give my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The warehouse looked abandoned. The windows lining the top of the large empty space were mostly broken, and there was more than one bird’s nest nestled in the rafters.
With the exception of my chair and the single light that hung from a rafter and plugged into a generator, the warehouse was empty. There were a few piles of fabric in the corners, probably beds for junkies or the homeless. But either way, I didn’t see a single soul, and that was more luck than I had counted on.
As quickly as I could, I moved to the closest wall, stepping around broken glass, trying not to cut up the bottom of my foot any more than necessary. I crept along the wall, trying to make it to the closest door, stopping just before I got there and listening.