Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Hugo and I head to the door leading to the staircase where two men stand sentry. They open the door when they see us approach and Hugo follows me down. For as luxurious as things are above ground, they’re that primitive below. But the basement, it’s not anywhere anyone wants to be.
My steps echo off the walls and the guard standing outside the door straightens.
“Open it,” I tell him.
He does. The two inside still instantly, both turning toward us, the girl blind from the cloth covering her eyes. She may have seen the faces of the idiots who kidnapped her, but she hasn’t seen me. Doesn’t know who I am unless her asshole brother told her.
I enter with Hugo close behind me. He closes the door.
Jones is blubbering, fucking crying again, his words are coming out so fast, I can’t make sense of them.
“Shut the fuck up.” It’s Hugo and he’s moved to stand behind the kneeling man. He presses the barrel of a gun to the back of Jones’s head.
Jones quiets but for the fucking sniffling. “Jones, don’t be a pussy,” I say, leaning against the wall, my eyes on the girl. She’s quiet, hasn’t said a word, but her head snaps in the direction of my voice the moment she hears it. She’s on her knees too, but I’m guessing it’s because her balance is off with the blindfold and her hands being bound behind her back. I know she’s pretty from her driver’s license picture, but in person, even with the blindfold on, she’s striking, with high cheekbones and plump lips I’m not sure she realizes she’s biting.
“Did you tell her what you did?” I ask Jones, not taking my eyes off the girl.
“I didn’t do anything. I was just…I found…I accidentally—”
Hugo mutters something and smacks him on the side of the head. It’s not a hard smack but Jones shuts up.
“You accidentally found a duffel bag full of coke?”
“Y…yes, sir.”
“And then what?” I ask.
“I…I was going to bring it back.”
“Do I look like a fucking idiot?”
“Please don’t hurt me! Please. I made a mistake. I—”
“Please don’t hurt you? What about your sister here? Should I hurt her instead?” Fucking coward piece of shit.
Jones shakes his head. “It’s all there. I was going to give it back.”
“Really? After you made arrangements for a sale?”
He takes in a deep breath, realizing I know.
I step toward him. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, understand, fool?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My brother made a mistake,” the girl suddenly says. “He’s not a fool.”
Her comment makes me chuckle, but she’s not making a joke. Her voice is soft and I know she’s trying to act like she’s calm, but I can see the pulse at her neck pounding.
“No? Because all evidence points to the contrary.”
She’s quiet, perhaps thinking how to reply. “Please don’t hurt him.”
That strikes me. Please don’t hurt him. Not please don’t hurt us.
“Should I let him walk out of here scot-free?”
She swallows, exhales a breath. She knows I won’t do that.
“Just…” She’s shaking her head and tears have wet the blindfold and her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Her apologizing makes me hate Jones even more. “Help her stand.”
Hugo takes her arm and raises her to her feet. She stands on the foot with the shoe, then shifts to the one without it. I step toward her and even though she can’t see me, I know she feels the shift because she backs up and stiffens, her face turning upward, searching for me.
“Priscilla Hawking,” I say, trying out her name. I want her to know I know exactly who she is.
She visibly shudders.
I move closer, then to her side, slowly behind her, eyeing the ropes that have cut into the skin of her wrists. I lean in and inhale a subtle scent of perfume beneath the acrid one of fear.
“Are you scared?”
She goes rigid. I know she can feel my breath on her neck.
“Answer my question.”
“Yes.” It’s a squeak.
I walk around her, resume my position facing her. “At least one of you is honest. But what kind of message would I be sending if I let Jones walk out of here? If I don’t punish him?”
She drops her head, wipes her nose on her shoulder.
“It wouldn’t be good for business,” I say.
“What are you going to do, then?” she asks, her jaw set when she turns her face up.
“Break a leg. Maybe two.” I shrug my shoulder as Jones starts blabbering some nonsense. I realize he’s probably stoned.
“I can pay you.” Her voice breaks and she can’t hide the fact that she’s crying now.
I step to her, reach out to touch a tear with my thumb. She gasps.
“This isn’t about money, sweetheart.”
“Please don’t—”
“Shh, Priscilla.” I turn to Jones. “Get up.”
She obviously thinks I’m going to break his legs right here, right now, because she throws herself forward, crashing into my chest. I catch her when she bounces backward to stop her from falling.