Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“We hunt. Our selection process is based on the buyer’s requirements, family and social situations, but most importantly, the captive’s ability to conform. The latter takes months of surveillance to determine the ideal candidate.”
He shook his head. “You watched me for weeks and—”
“I knew.” Her stomach clenched, conflicted and lost. “I knew you weren’t the right choice for this.” She met his eyes and found her way. “You were the right choice for me. When I saw you, I couldn’t walk away.”
A smile tipped the side of his mouth. “There’s my girl, honest and open. Was that so hard?”
Her chest lightened, her pulse pumping in an untroubled rhythm. “You’re easy to talk to.” And easy to love.
As she drove, she explained what she knew of Mr. E’s network, how he never had contact with the clients, and how he’d created a referral system for new buyers. “Each buyer must pass along a reference at the intro meeting. It’s Mr. E’s requirement in the contract. Since I’m the only one who meets face-to-face, Mr. E preserves his and the clients’ anonymity. Once the delivery is made and the transaction is sent, we never hear from them again.” There was so much more to that last part.
His silence pulled at her skin, scratching with unasked questions. No doubt he was thinking about how impossible it would be to find her previous captives. If he asked where they were, she would lie to him the way she lied to herself. They had to be dead to her, because the truth was too risky, for him and everyone involved.
When he finally spoke, his question surprised her. “Are there female buyers?”
She imagined him growing hard beneath another woman’s whip, and a double knot of jealousy tightened her tone. “What? A female buyer would’ve made this easier for you?” It was unfair to accuse, and she immediately wanted to take it back.
He sucked his teeth at her, his voice low and aggravated. “I’m struggling to understand how I’m supposed to be a straight guy who hates women.”
She flicked the blinker and changed lanes. “There was one female buyer. She wanted a male slave.” A corporate, power-charged bitch with a chip on her shoulder. “I don’t know what prompted the unusual demand of misogyny with this one, but it’s imperative you give the impression that you despise me and any other woman who might be present.”
A miserable silence followed as they watched the open pastures blur by. How would someone make a person hate women? It was an impossible requirement, but she’d known that going in.
She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the console, cracked the window, and lit one. “Recite the requirements. The better you know them, the easier it will be for you to embody them.”
He narrowed his eyes on her cigarette. Oh, he wanted to scold her, and if they were on their way to somewhere…normal, he probably would have pulled out his preachology. Instead, he smirked and dictated the rules. Listening to him practice the loathsome words, knowing he was doing it for her, made her want him with a ferocity that burned the backs of her eyes and swallowed her destination.
He repeated the twelve requirements with fewer and fewer errors, until he relayed them perfectly. His body molded to the words, his chin dropping, thighs opening, no hint of resistance in his voice. She knew he wasn’t losing himself. He was acclimating. For her.
Her body heated and tightened. He was the strength and heart of the most dangerous jump. He was the soul of bravery wrapped in chains. He would never fall, no matter how much metal weighted him down. He was a man who loved selflessly and honestly, and she was taking him to a monster who would slice him open and fuck the incision.
She gripped the wheel with two fists, unable to steer off course, unable to save him from herself.
An hour into the drive, flat fields tumbled into the scattered tower blocks of Austin.
“I grew up here.” Her voice sounded distant to her ears. Memories could tear her apart, but they were there, gathering in the clouds that hovered over the metropolis. “Just a few miles that way.”
He turned to face her. “What was your childhood like?”
“Spent a lot of time up there.” She pointed at the blue sky that spanned beyond the reinforced concrete and steel. “When I wasn’t at school, I was jumping with Mom.” She smiled past the burn in her throat. “I used to sing to the first-time jumpers. Mom said it calmed them, but it’s so noisy on the plane—”
“Sing to me.” His gentle tone competed with the hard set of his jaw.
She wanted to, desperately needing the distraction. She began with “Pretty Face” by Sóley, letting the misty notes rise to her lips and carry them out of her hometown.