Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
His eyes looked more like hard steel now. Hateful. Unwavering. “I’m the Mafia. We only lock up bitches. Him? He’ll be tortured before he dies.”
A strangled sound came from my throat, and I struggled to stand up as he turned around to walk away, leaving the electric lantern with me.
“Wait! Don’t. He didn’t do this! I would know! I swear it! Please believe me!” I cried out as my knees almost buckled, sending me to the ground.
He didn’t look back, but he stopped. “I have all the time in the world, Winzy. And this is only the beginning of what I will do to you. When you’re ready to tell me something that isn’t a fucking lie, I will listen.”
Winzy. He’d called me Winzy. He knew my nickname. He had known it when he approached me in the scrapbook aisle.
The sound of a gate closing made me tense up, and I walked in the direction he had gone, stopping to pick up the lantern. The metal bars made me tremble once I was close enough to see them. I wasn’t just in a basement. I was in some kind of cell.
My stomach rumbled, and my mouth was dry again. I needed more water. How much longer was it until tomorrow? Would he bring it in the morning, or would I have to wait a full twenty-four hours? I had lived through being starved, but never without water.
Tears stung my eyes, and I fought them back. I didn’t need to cry. That would cause me to lose more water from my body and would only lead to dehydration quicker. I mean, I wasn’t a doctor, but that sounded right. It made sense at least.
I walked back to the chair and the bag he had left, opening it to hopefully find something inside. There was one lone napkin and the small container of marinara sauce that he was supposed to dip the pretzel in. I jerked it out and opened it, then drank it from the cup before using my finger to clean off every last bit I could get. After that, I went to the wadded-up wrappers and opened them to lick the mustard, ketchup, and cheese from them.
When there was nothing left, I placed all the garbage back in the bag and rolled the top down, then walked over to the five-gallon bucket he’d said was in the corner. Like I’d expected, there was nothing to wipe with. I placed the bag beside it, knowing I’d need it later for other things.
When you had grown up with a mother like mine, then you knew how to improvise.
Perry could track my phone. He would tell the cops. Oz might be Mafia or whatever. That was a little hard to believe though. Just because he was a bookie or doing some illegal sports gambling didn’t make him the Mafia. I had read books about the Mafia. They weren’t Southern boys with a thick drawl who wore jeans and boots like God had made them just for that purpose. They were Russian, Italian, Irish, and lived in the north. Big cities, like New York and Boston. They wore expensive suits and diamonds on their fingers. They had accents and tattoos.
Mafia, my ass.
I rolled my eyes and sank down against the wall, bringing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them.
Perry would send someone to find me. The psycho bookie would go to prison. I just had to wait. My abandoned car, left sitting in the Hobby Lobby parking lot, would be noticed. My brother would know soon that I had been abducted.
This would be fine. It was all gonna be fine.
I rested my forehead on my knees and sighed.
The only thing that had made any sense was the gambling thing. Perry had surprised me by doing that. He’d mentioned it before on accident, then laughed it off, saying it was a fun hobby and he was good at it. That if he started to lose, he would quit.
But counterfeit money? The Feds? No freaking way.
Four
Oz
July 8, 2025
“What have you gotten out of her?” Linc asked.
I took the cigar from my mouth before I bit off the head, and my teeth instantly started to grind. I’d gotten nothing. Fucking nothing. She’d been down there for eight hours, and I’d not gotten one goddamn truth from her.
Where the hell was her brother anyway? Her phone was on and available for tracking. Hell, I had expected him to show up by now. It was three a.m., and no sign of him.
I had taken her from the Hobby Lobby parking lot at two p.m. Driven over to Sam’s Club and gone inside to get two hot dogs and two pizza pretzels, then headed straight here. She tried to wake up once, and I gave her a sip of drugged water that kept her out for the rest of the trip. I’d planned on feeding her the second hot dog and pretzel after eating mine on the four-hour drive down here, but then I’d used it as a form of torture and eaten the others in front of her.