Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I didn’t fight him when he guided my arms around my back and tied my wrists.
I didn’t fight him when he heaved me over his shoulder and carried me downstairs with Jericho in tow.
I didn’t fight him when he tossed me in the back seat of my Jeep, gagged me, and put a black cloth bag over my head.
Jericho sat next to my head. The door closed. Minutes later, the back door opened, and the vehicle dipped with the weight of whatever he was loading into it. I closed my eyes, hearing only the residual high-pitched ringing in my ears as I prayed for death, the welcoming arms of my mom, and an existence free from the ugliness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hours later, rough hands startled me from my sleep or coma … whatever state of pre-death I fell into on the long journey. Pain radiated from my abdomen to my ribs when Slade once again hoisted me over his shoulder. Gravel crunched beneath his boots, and that was the only sound I could hear.
The creak from wooden steps replaced the gravel. A familiar loamy and mossy scent seeped through the cover on my head. We were in the woods.
Screen door screeched.
Thunk. It slammed shut.
More wood creaked beneath his surefooted steps. He deposited me on something lumpy like an old sofa, the waft of musk replacing the outdoorsy scent. I started choking as my need to cough, the gag in my mouth, and the bag over my head stifled my breathing. Slade removed the bag and untied the gag in my mouth.
I coughed until my throat burned, raw and dry. My ribs ached, but not as much as my shoulders, arms, and wrists from the tie around them. Squinting against the light from the floor lamp, the rustic cabin came into focus. Dirty windows framed in cobwebs revealed nothing more than complete darkness shrouding the cabin in all directions. It must have been early morning before sunrise.
Slade hunched in front of me. “Here.” He held a water bottle to my mouth.
I took one swig, desperate for something to sooth my throat. He offered another sip, and I took it, holding it in my mouth for a few seconds before I spat it in his face. It streaked the blood crusted on his face. I did that to him. And maybe he would kill me and decapitate me, but I made him bleed first.
Drawing in a slow breath, he stood, steely eyes set on me. He turned, jerking his head for Jericho to hop on the sofa beside me. Then he disappeared around the corner to what I assumed was a kitchen. Water ran for several minutes before he returned with a wet towel and a cleaner face.
Pulling a knife from his holster of weapons, he squatted in front of me again. I stiffened, emotions surging up my chest, constricting my throat, and burning my eyes. Visions of Stefan Hoover pressing a knife to my throat as he pulled down my panties flashed in my head.
Slade flinched and eased his head side to side a fraction as he murmured, “I’m not him.” He leaned forward snaking his arms around me and cutting the tie on my wrists. Grabbing the wet towel, he wiped the blood from my hands.
I tried to keep from grimacing, from showing my weakness, but they were raw and swollen. “Did you know?” I whispered. If he didn’t kill my mom, did he know that Abe did? Did he know everything when he met me?
The palm of his hand pressed to mine as he gently erased the blood with the rag in his other hand. “No.”
“Did you know any of it? Did you know about my dad?”
“No.”
“Then … what are we doing here? Is this where it ends?”
He glanced up at me, stilling his hand. “Yes.”
I swallowed hard and nodded as he stood, slipped his knife back into its holder, and pulled out a gun. He eased into a wooden rocker, resting the gun on the arm under his hand as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I started to shift on the sofa and Jericho growled.
Just like that … I was the enemy. It didn’t matter how many treats, hugs, and ear rubs I gave him. He was loyal to his master when it mattered most. Inching back, I rested my head on the cushion and hugged my knees to my chest before closing my eyes again.
When I woke again, it was in desperation to pee, and the sun was just starting to illuminate our surroundings.
Trees.
Just as I suspected.
Jericho watched me, unblinking, as if he hadn’t slept a second, and the rocking chair sat empty.
“I need to pee.” I rested my hands on the edge of the sofa to stand. Jericho growled again.
Slade stepped around the corner with a coffee mug in his hand. He nodded to Jericho. “Bathroom.”