Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Well, fuck me. The cute cunt is half-way free…”
Dark red droplets fell to the floor as she slumped forward. Plip. Plop. Her left hand was dangling free.
She’s loose. I don’t need this shit right now.
He darted out of the room, gathered some supplies from a hall closet, raced down the hall, and jumped on the elevator. Once he was in front of her, she lunged at him. Her dark eyes were puffy and tired, and yet, she roared and jerked about like an animal. A wild tiger half strapped to a chair, growling and snarling with some powerful reserve of resilience. Just like him…
“Stop it!” He snatched her arm, and she groaned in pain from his rough manhandling. “Damn.” He looked at the bruised and torn flesh. “You’ve really done a number on yourself.”
She said nothing as he observed her self-inflicted wounds. Just glared at him. He moved behind her, wrapped her wrist in gauze, then with a scarf. She winced and moaned as he secured her back in place, this time attaching another scarf to the remaining zip tie that she was unable to remove. Once he was finished fastening her arms behind the chair, he walked across the room and leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms.
“I’m a reasonable man, Honey. I did my own research and realized that about eighty percent of what you told me was true. The other twenty percent was you pretending you didn’t know who I was and what I do, and the claim that you hadn’t any plans for the information you now have.”
Her head lifted slightly, as if she were now a bit curious as to what he discovered, but wanted to pretend not to be interested.
“I’ll keep a secret. Please… I will.”
“In actuality, you planned to sing like a bird after you got a little more evidence.” Her gaze lifted to his. “I was able to get into one of your encrypted emails… You told someone that you might have a good story. A colleague of yours. Now, you didn’t get into details, or they’d be paid a visit, but that door is left open now that you’ve let it be known that there’s something going on here that has sparked your interest. You admitted that to me, but that also means that there’s no turning back. That’s a problem. What I find so intriguing about you is your attitude and need to do shit your own way, which has landed you in the doghouse. You have absolutely no control over your emotions, and it cost you.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“I saw that you’re in trouble with your boss… your editor. You pissed off your superiors on the job, and a lot of people, actually, and now, you’re on the chopping block. So, like I said. I’m a reasonable man. I understand how your desperation to once again have the upper hand caused you to cross the line. You figured,” he waved his hands loosely around, “I’ll get my hands on a top story. They’ll want it. I’m back in. Sittin’ in your office looking at digital images, getting carry-out sushi and slurping boba drinks on Wednesday afternoons with Alice and George again.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “You don’t know me.”
“I know all about you, baby. Your father is dead and how he died haunts you. You and your mother aren’t close. You avoid your sister because she keeps asking to borrow money and on top of that, you believe she doesn’t even like you. You barely speak to your brothers. You have no husband. No boyfriend. No children. Just a vibrator you ram up your pussy while you listen to Jazmine Sullivan and nurse a bottle of wine. Yeah… I saw your little toy in your luggage.” He smirked. “You want your old life back? The life you had before you were sent here, forced to take pictures of restaurant construction and an old man complainin’ about some teenagers leaving steaming dog shit in his mailbox? If so, we can work together… help each other out. I’ll give you a story—not mine, of course, but another one—and you’ll help me address a thorn in my side.”
“I’m not interested.”
“It’s not a choice. You’ll do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it.”
She rolled her eyes and shot him a pointed look. He cocked his head to the side and noted more blood dripping from her wrist, staining the scarves. She had to be in terrible pain. And yet, he heard no screams. Saw no tears.
“I’m not qualified for whatever it is you think I can do for you.”
“Oh, I beg to differ, sweetheart. You have a skill set and experience that I’m interested in. You think fast on your feet. You’re strong. You’re great with a camera. You’ve been in dangerous situations and managed to survive. Just like a cockroach. So, I have a proposal for you. It’ll buy you your freedom.”