Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Ben!” I said, giving him a smile as he shuffled his feet.
“Heya, there, Sylvie-Bear,” he said, giving me a familiar smile, one that curved fully to one side and not at all the other.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” I said, then felt a little pang of guilt.
Because, well, I used to occasionally drag out my dad’s old CB and talk to some of the guys from the road, ones who’d been something like kin to me. But it had been months. Maybe close to a year.
“Haven’t been able to get in touch with you,” Ben said.
“I know. I’m sorry. It was just… after Dad’s death, all I heard when I was on the CB was condolences and stories about his drinking days. It was all just… too much,” I admitted.
“I get that. But I’d wish you’d have reached out a bit. I had to come here just to check on you.”
“I won’t let it go this long again,” I assured him. “But it’s nice seeing you. Did you have a job all the way up here?” I asked.
“Yeah. Just finished it up,” he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.
I would look back on this moment later, wondering how the hell I missed the lie. He’d never been good at it. He’d been the one to spoil Santa for me my first year on the road when I’d point-blank asked him. He’d tried to lie, to convince me he was real and he would come and find me, even though I didn’t have a tree or a fireplace, but the whole time he’d done it, he’d been rubbing his neck and looking a little flustered.
At the moment, though, all I saw was a familiar face that I’d always been fond of.
“Do you think you maybe want to go catch a cup of coffee? On your break?” he asked.
“I’m actually overdue,” I said. “There’s a coffee place close…”
“Deja Brew?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
“Yes,” I said, smiling, completely oblivious to why that was also a red flag.
I mean, Deja Brew had the worst marketing. You wouldn’t even know it was there, usually, unless you’d walked down the street close enough to see the sign on the window.
But I’d just accepted he’d somehow seen it, though, and happily agreed to meet him there once I told someone I was heading out.
I couldn’t find Russ, so I told Perish, who was in a tense game of chess in the living room. I wasn’t even sure he was paying attention to what I was saying.
So I grabbed my purse and headed out, finding that Ben had already left.
Again, I thought nothing of it.
Why would I?
He’d been like an uncle to me my whole life.
I’d never so much as gotten a single weird vibe from him.
It wasn’t until I was in the lot of Deja Brew a few moments later, climbing out of my car, and looking up at Ben’s rig that I felt my blood go cold.
Because Ben wasn’t alone.
And the man in his passenger seat?
I’d only ever had weird vibes from him.
Worse than that.
Creep vibes.
I only hesitated maybe five seconds, the time it took for my body to catch up to my mind.
But it was five seconds too long.
Because the door flew open.
Then hands reached down, grabbing me like I weighed nothing, and hauling me up into the rig.
It was peeling out of the lot as my hands slapped, nails clawed, legs peddled.
But it was no use.
He was too big.
I was too small.
And the space didn’t give me much to work with.
“Stop fighting, Sylvie-Bear,” Ben said, making my stomach flip over at his usual calm, kind tone, as his brother wrestled me into the back.
Calm?
He wanted me to be calm?
“We don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted as hands bruised into my hips as he pulled me through the small galley and toward the bed.
The bed.
No.
Fuck no.
Not the bed.
My arms shot out, grabbing for the cabinets. The stupid, plastic, curved cabinets with not much to hold onto save for the little grips where your hands went. I dug into them like a fucking lifeline.
“You already hurt me,” I yelled, trying to angle myself so I could whack Jim in the head with it.
“Jim just got a little mad, that’s all,” Ben claimed.
That was all?
He’d beaten the shit out of me.
And where had Ben been?
Watching?
Encouraging?
“I love her fire,” Jim said as I pulled myself forward, trying to get him closer to the cabinet as I swung. But he was quicker than I was, jerking back, so that the cabinet slammed into my own damn face instead.
I felt the pain explode across my temple, and the blood trickle down my cheek.
Stupid, ragged plastic.
“Just hold her still until we get there,” Ben demanded. “It’s not too far,” he added.
I fought.
Truly, I did.
With everything in me.