Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
For fifteen minutes, we twist and turn towards the exit, carrying her in my arms knowing she doesn’t have the strength. We head in the direction of the second exit we mapped out in case we run out of time to go through our first choice. Once we are to the back where the car is waiting, I send up the flare, so they know we have made it out. Carefully, I put her in the back seat lying down and sped out of the lot. The airstrip is only a mere five minutes away, but I can feel her fear like a cold blanket around me. “I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but I am not here to hurt you. I was hired to rescue you.” I know she won’t answer me, but I hope in time she will believe me. Then it hits me, does she speak English?
Four
Satine
My mind is racing. Literally it is going the speed of this car I am currently in. Everything happened so fast, and I don’t know what to think. The man whose possession I am currently in says he is a good guy. He says as soon as it is safe he will remove my bindings, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. For all I know he is in a long line of men trying to get me to have something on my father.
“Are you alright? Shit. I’m sorry. Dumb question. Just a few minutes more and I will be able to free you,” he says. There is something in his voice that is not necessarily cruel. In fact he sounds a bit remorseful. Huh, imagine that. A remorseful kidnapper, trafficker…whatever he is.
The car slows down and the hum of the engine quiets. I try to calm my beating heart because it is so erratic that my hearing is affected, but I can’t. One because I am terrified, but the other reason is that my skin feels like there are spiders crawling on it. I would know. I have been bitten by a few. But this feeling is from something else. This is from missing my daily dose of heroin and I think I am going to go crazy any minute.
I hear his door open and shut and then the muffled sounds of a conversation. Must be the person he is handing me off too. The truth is nothing and no one could be crueler than the captures he just took me from.
“Here we are, Piccola.” I believe he called me little or something close. The dialect from Cuban Spanish and what I would guess is Italian. My father had visitors from all over. I don’t know what is really going on, but he smells good and is comforting in a way. He carries me what I guess is a few feet and then a different type of hum fills my ears.
“Can I get anything for you, Mr. St. Clair?” A woman with a weird accent asks him. Huh. He is an awful kidnapper to let someone call him by his last name. Now if I get free, I can identify him. Sort of.
“No, Violet. I am fine. Tell the captain we are ready. We will be in the back.” He continues walking and then something soft is under me. “Now, let’s get you free,” he says, right before something slices through the restraints. “Shit,” he curses, gripping my wrists and rubbing them. I can’t help but groan at the tender touch since it has been years since someone soothed me. My father never touched me other than to slap me if I didn't do what he said fast enough. Once my mom died, he stopped trying to pretend he loved me.
Finally, I am able to really look at the man who kept his word. “Thank you,” I try to say but it comes out hoarse and quiet. My whole body is shaking right about now. I am starting to get anxious and desperate.
Then he whispers. “Santa cielo.” he says, staring into my eyes with astonishment. I am used to it. My eyes are pretty unique. On a good day they are a forest green color with flecks of gold in them. I drop my eyes from his because he is looking at me like he can inside of me and is uncomfortable.
“Where are we?” I ask him, trying to change the subject. His eyes stay locked on me, and it is making my stomach feel weird.
“On a private plane.” Wow. He must be rich.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, positive he is not going to answer me, but for whatever reason, I know it is not because he is an asshole. My stomach takes that moment to churn, loudly and I drop my head in embarrassment.