Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Now I’m here, in the back of a fucking van, and I’ve tried everything to get out.
There is no escape.
It is so well secured that no amount of kicking, thrashing, pushing, or screaming is going to get me out of this mess.
I should have known Wesley wouldn’t trust anything I said.
I should have told someone I was coming here.
Now, it could take hours if not longer for anyone to notice I’m missing. By that time, it might be too late.
Wesley has me, and where he’s taking me, I don’t know.
The van begins slowing down, and I push myself up from the corner where I was sitting, legs to my chest, going over my idiotic plan and wondering what the hell I was thinking. As it stops, I can hear voices and then footsteps, before someone starts to unlock the back. Is this my chance? Without thought, I scurry forward, and as the door opens, I throw myself out, a pathetic attempt at escape.
I land on the ground with a thud, gasping as the air is knocked out of me, but before I can get to my feet, a hand curls into my hair, hauling me back so hard I scream as pain rips through my skull. Forced to my feet, Wesley spins me around to face him, holding out a gun as he grins, evil son of a bitch. “You didn’t think you could actually get away, did you?”
“Just let me go,” I spit. “If you want the money, you can have it. Just let me go.”
“The money isn’t my problem.” Wesley shoves the gun at me, forcing me to take a step back. “The problem is your little fucking club is involved now. You made a big mistake going to them. Now I am dealing with something that I don’t have fucking time for. There is only one way to finish this, and that is to deliver you back to them so fucked up, they won’t mess with me again.”
My eyes widen. Surely that isn’t his plan.
My legs wobble.
“You think if you deliver me back to them in that state that they’ll just let it go? They’ll kill you, every fucking one of you,” I spit.
Wesley laughs. “Oh, believe me, they won’t. I’ll send you back with a little message for them, one they’ll be forced to listen to because I have something that they don’t want getting out.”
What the hell could he have on the club? Is he bluffing?
“You’re lying,” I spit, clenching my fists.
“Am I? We’ll see about that. Your little club isn’t as good as you think. They’re hiding things that would make your hair stand on end.”
He’s lying.
“Fuck you,” I seethe.
He chuckles. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. Take her, Benito. I’ll deal with her soon. For now, I want to let them sweat.”
A man, who was standing beside me the entire time, suddenly takes my arm and pulls me toward a large building. We’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but woods surrounding us, but this building is sitting surrounded by a barbed wire fence, guarded by men, and looks as though it has only recently been put here. It’s made from a dark clay brick and is a couple of stories high. Shipping containers surround it, no doubt filled with illegal items to sell.
Where the fuck are we?
Once inside, Benito takes me to a small room. On the outside, there is a keypad, and he quickly moves his body so I can’t see what he’s typing as he unlocks it. The door is heavy, some type of metal, and when it clicks open, he tosses me into a room. It’s just a standard bedroom type set up with a mattress on the ground, a small light on the ceiling, and nothing else. Not even a window.
Before I can say another word, the door slams and beeps, effectively trapping me.
How the hell am I going to get out of here?
And what the hell does Wesley have on the club that he’s so certain they won’t come after him?
A FIST CONNECTS WITH my jaw, sending my head flying to the left as my body soars across the room, slamming into the wall. My screams are broken now, and my mouth is filled with blood as I pray for an ending. I don’t care how it comes; I just want the pain to stop. I want the world to open up and swallow me so I don’t have to feel this a single moment longer. I just need it to be over.
A booted foot connects with my ribs, and, instead of a scream, this time all that comes out is a pitiful breath of air as my lungs fight to keep working. Rolling to my side, my body feels as though a thousand knives are entering it all at once. I know I’ve got broken bones, probably multiple, and I’ve been punched, kicked, and thrown so many times that there is blood scattered about, up the walls and over the floor.