Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Soon you’ll get to go back to Nashville, where this will all be far behind you.
Although there was a pang at the thought of leaving this place. Well, not Freestown. But Butch. This morning, he’d turned up to check on her. And he’d brought with him the best gift known to humans. Or hungover humans anyway.
A breakfast burger.
Bless him.
Shoot. She was supposed to text him when she’d gotten home safely. He’d wanted to come with her tonight, but she’d told him it was for the bridal party and family only. Well, that’s what she’d thought.
She walked back out into the bedroom and grabbed her handbag, pulling her phone out.
Dead.
With a yawn, she put it on charge, promising herself that she would text him in a few minutes.
She stripped off and glanced down at her wrist with a grimace. It was still bruised. That wasn’t going to look pretty tomorrow in her dress.
Not my problem.
After putting on her pajamas, she climbed into bed with a tired sigh. She couldn’t believe how drained she was.
And tomorrow, she had to spend the entire day with her family.
Great. Awesome.
One more day, then this nightmare would be over.
She checked her phone and sent Butch a quick text before her eyes drifted shut.
One more day . . .
A loud banging on her door woke her up suddenly. Shit, where was she? What time was it? Who was trying to bash down her door?
She reached out, searching for her phone. She finally found it on the floor and picked it up, glancing at the time. One in the morning. What the hell?
“Let me in, you stupid little bitch!” someone yelled.
Her heart started racing. Who the hell was that? What were they doing banging on her door? Did they have the wrong motel room?
Something slammed against the door, making the whole building shudder.
Oh God! He was trying to smash his way into the room.
Get out, Lara!
Grabbing her phone, she raced toward the bathroom. Her breath came in sharp pants as she shut and locked the door. She didn’t know if it would be enough protection, though.
She glanced up at the window. Too small.
Damn her curvy body. Her ass wasn’t fitting through that.
Shit.
Another banging sounded. “Hey, you! Get out of her room. I’m calling the cops!”
Shit. That was Old Al.
“Old Al, stay inside! Lock your door! I’m calling the cops!” she yelled. She didn’t want him getting hurt.
“Fucking get out here, bitch!”
Hands shaking, she managed to call 911.
“This is 911. What’s your emergency?”
There was a smashing sound that made her scream.
“Where are you, bitch?”
“There’s a man. He’s broken into my motel room.”
“Where are you, ma’am? Are you in immediate danger?”
“Yes! He’s in the next room. I’m at Crabapple motel, room nine.” The door to the bathroom rattled.
She cried out again.
“Lara!” Old Al called out. “I’ve called James!”
James was the owner of the motel. Please let him come.
“I’m coming for you, bitch! You ruined my life!”
Who was that?
“Ma’am? Stay on the line!”
She ignored the operator. “You have the wrong room! Go away!” She winced after saying that hoping he didn’t go and harass some other poor woman.
“Nope, I know it was you that turned me into the cops.” The door behind her thudded against her back as though he was kicking it. “Let me in! Fat, ugly bitch!”
Tears streamed down her face. Why hadn’t she taken karate or some sort of
self-defense? She felt like a sitting duck.
“Go away!”
“Hey, asshole! What do you think you’re doing?” a loud voice called out, making her sob.
Was that James?
“Fuck off! This bitch and I have something to discuss!”
“Discuss? You kicked down the door! I’m the owner, and you’re destroying my property. I’ve called the cops! You’re going to pay for this damage!”
“Fuck off, old man! I’m not paying for shit!”
She heard some scuffling, then silence. Did she dare move? Was he gone? Or was it some sort of trick?
Someone knocked on the door, making her cry out.
“Ms. Matheson? Are you all right? It’s James, the owner. You can come out now. He’s gone.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Maybe she should wait for the police. Shit! The police!
She heard sirens in the distance as she put her phone to her ear only to realize it had gone dead again.
Piece of shit.
She had the urge to throw it against the wall. Only, she knew that she couldn’t afford anything better.
“Lara?” Old Al called out between the walls. “You okay?”
“I’m all right. I’m fine. I’m coming out.”
Standing, it took her three times to unlock the door. She glanced out into the room, whimpering as she saw the destruction. James ran his gaze over her with a brisk nod. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, but he’d come to her rescue.
“Going to talk to the cops. They’ll need to take your statement and probably some photos as evidence. Asshole was drunk and looking for a fight. This part of town just ain’t safe no more.”