Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“I’d deserve it,” he replies glumly.
He would so deserve it, and I’d enjoy it a lot. Instead, I find myself saying, “This is a new chance for you, Brian. You can make a fresh start after you make amends. Be the man your sister knows you can be.”
He nods, but there’s no confidence in his expression. He’s too beat down by just how badly he’s fucked up. But once we get on the other side of this rescue, then maybe he can turn his life into something good.
CHAPTER 22
Jaime
Hours ago, when I was pulled from my home and watched my poor husband beaten, I was pretty much convinced my life was over. It was singularly the most terrifying experience of my life.
Now, after having spent over five hours with these idiots, I’m pretty sure this will end up being a grand adventure I can laugh at one day.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m still scared and nervous. From what I understand, though, my brother has somehow miraculously come up with the money he owes these thugs—presumably from my parents—and there should be a safe exchange, thereby ensuring my freedom. But these guys aren’t truly master criminals. They’re young, stupid, and think they’re cool living their life of crime.
They’ve spent hours here in this warehouse congratulating themselves on such a well-executed plan, even giving continual high fives as they were not expecting Cage to be there, and they’re overly impressed with themselves for neutralizing one man when the other four had guns. I suspect they all have tiny dicks and are over-compensating.
Another way I know they’re not hardened criminals—although they’re definitely on the right path—is they’ve treated me fairly well. I had thought I might be tied up and mistreated in some way, but they’ve actually left me free to roam around the empty warehouse space.
Within reason.
Mostly, I sat on a chair and worried about Cage. He’d taken quite a beating, and the leader of this motley crew, who goes by the name Glen, bragged about knocking him unconscious before he left. What has me worried the most was that Brian seems to be orchestrating my rescue, which means Cage isn’t involved.
Which could potentially mean he is seriously hurt and still unconscious in my apartment.
What if he has a brain injury?
What if he’s dead?
My heart feels like it’s going to explode thinking about it. Every minute that goes by until I’m released is another minute Cage could be in serious jeopardy. My only real hope is Brian understood my anxiety in those few moments we talked by phone when I asked after Cage, and he sent someone—anyone—to my apartment to check on Cage. Surely my brother is smart and empathetic enough to do that for me.
“It’s getting close, boss,” Tommy says to Glen. Over five hours, I’ve learned their names. They kept their masks on so I couldn’t identify them, which was a good sign they fully intend to let me walk out of here once they get their money.
I wasn’t sure the same could be said for Brian, because the one thing I’ve learned from hanging with these guys for several hours is they’re pissed they were forced to do this just to get their money from him.
“About another twenty minutes,” Glen says, looking down at his watch and smiling through the small gap in his knit mask. “Then we’ll have our money, and we can celebrate.”
The other guys whoop, obviously feeling victory close at hand.
Twenty more minutes, and I’d hopefully be on my way home to find out if Cage is okay.
There’s a knock on the metal door that extends out to the loading dock in the rear. It’s where Brian was instructed to come.
“He’s early,” Glen says with a mirthful shake of his head. “That asshole never could follow directions.”
None of the other guys move. Two are still seated at the table while one exits the bathroom, still buttoning up his pants. Glen has his gun tucked into his back waistband, the two sitting have theirs on the table, and the one who just came out of the bathroom… I haven’t seen a gun on him.
Because, of course, Brian isn’t a threat to them.
Still, I’m nervous because it’s going down now. Even though a peaceful transition has been negotiated, there are still guns capable of firing bullets that will kill.
Glen saunters over to the door—more like a strut—and what I wouldn’t give for Brian to punch him in the gut after all this is over. But that’s not going to happen.
Almost as if they realize they should be a bit more active in this, the two men at the table stand, guns ignored. They don’t think Brian is a threat any more than I do.
Glen unlocks the door, which is a slide bolt, and pulls it open. Brian stands there, a satchel hanging over one shoulder. His eyes wander the room, coming to land on mine.