Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I look over at Daniel, confused. His tired face is lined with anger and hard as he crosses his arms and watches me talk on the phone. He’s pissed. No, he’s beyond pissed. Trying to fuck him was a bad call, and now he’s going to ditch me and that Mr. Freeze guy will be there to scoop me up.
“Thank God,” Daisy is babbling in my ear. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Talk to me.”
I don’t know what to say. “I’m okay.” All my war wounds are on the inside. Physically? I’m dandy. “I’m just . . . confused.”
Daniel grunts and pulls another phone out of his pocket, another burner. How many does this man have? He starts texting, and his gaze flicks to me. “Tell her to start at the beginning.”
I lick my lips—they still taste like bile—and speak, “Daniel says to start at the beginning.”
“Okay.” She exhales loudly, as if steeling herself. “You know Nick? The Ukrainian guy I’ve been dating?”
“Yes.” I haven’t met him personally but I’ve seen him a few times in the hallway of the apartment building, and innocent Daisy is head over heels for the guy.
“He’s a hit man. Or he was. He’s giving it up for me.”
I’m not entirely sure I heard her right. “He’s what?”
“A hit man. An assassin. He used to kill people for a living.” It’s so strange to hear those words come from innocent Daisy’s voice, but she’s not apologetic about it. She accepts it. “Someone killed his mentor, and Nick was hunting him down. That’s why he was in Minneapolis. Well, that and another job. It’s a little complicated.” She’s rushing through the words as if they’re not important. “Nick was being chased by the Russian Mafia—the Bratva. And . . . remember when you had my cell phone? They thought you were me. They were going to take me to force Nick to do their bidding. And I think they kept you because . . .” She hesitates. “You’re pretty.”
I swallow hard, memories flashing forward. Of a scary, hulking blond man showing up at the apartment with the ugly Yury. Yury pushing a needle into my arm, drugging me. Yury ripping my clothing off—
I shake my head to clear it of the horrible memories, but they lurk at the edges of my mind, waiting for a weak moment. They kept you because you’re pretty.
“I . . .” I try to think of what to ask. I’m revolted, and yet I have questions. “How did you get away?”
“Nick saved me,” she says, and I can hear the love in her voice, and the affectionate murmur of a man’s response nearby. “We tried to find you, but . . .” Her voice wobbles.
Resentment flares in my gut. I try to bury it, but it’s difficult. I keep silent, lest I say something I regret.
“They sold you off to someone,” Daisy continues. “And then people kept coming after Nick, so we had to go into hiding. We sent Daniel to find you.”
Daniel, who I’ve treated like shit. Who I’ve used, who I’ve done nothing but cry around. I give him another wary look. “He’s a hit man, too?”
“Yes. He’s one of Nick’s friends.”
“Okay.”
“O-okay? Don’t you have more questions?” She sounds confused, like she’s pictured this conversation in her mind a million times and it’s not going the way she wants it to.
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m good.” And I hand the phone back to Daniel.
He cocks an eyebrow, giving me an odd look. Then he takes the phone back, gets to his feet, and stands again. His voice is low. “Daisy, sweetheart, why don’t you put Nikolai back on the phone?” A moment later, he switches to a foreign language and begins to spit words out. I don’t catch most of it but I hear Gomes and Regan intermixed with what must be Russian. Or Ukrainian. I don’t know either one. He’s talking about me, and in another language deliberately so I can’t pick up what they’re saying.
I clasp my hands together and stare down at them in my lap. I’m trying not to, but the truth is I’m burning with bitterness at my conversation with Daisy. It sounds like while I was sold into a brothel, she was running back to the United States with her boyfriend in tow, the very same boyfriend that got us into this mess.
And because they couldn’t be bothered, I was left behind for someone else to find.
I’m sure that’s not the full story, of course. If I were rational, it’d make sense to me. But I’m not rational anymore. I’m a freak show who tries to fuck men—even when they don’t want it—and who cries at the drop of the hat.
They kept you because you’re pretty.
My fingers curl, and I fight the urge to claw my own eyes out, to mark myself up until I’m no longer “pretty” enough to be a whore. Although the way that Daniel looks at me after I tried . . . well, after what happened maybe no one will want me anyway.