Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Anything you need, King,” I say with a nod.
“That girl you picked up? I think we got her.”
“What? Where?” All three of us snap to attention.
King waves to Snark, smartass and resident tech genius. “Tell them what you found.”
Snark moves to the front and starts rattling off some shit about bouncing off servers and idiots who don’t know how to change passwords. I don’t follow any of the shit he’s saying, but I trust that just like I know my art, he knows his.
“And anyway, I was starting to think they were just bullshitting about having someone, but then I picked up an update when they pulled in a new guy and the contact address they put for him pinged as one of the apartments they use for witness protection. I looked a little deeper, and that dipshit Harris is the one who registered him in the system.” Snark folds his hands in front of his chest and grins. “You’re welcome.”
King scowls as he warns us, “It might not be her, and if it is, you all understand that she might be there because she decided to work with the cops.”
The guys and I look at each other. None of us are ready to believe that, but he’s right. We nod.
“Good, then bring her in, because I think it’s time to have another chat. Make it fucking happen.”
10
KAYLEE
Anderson slaps the handcuffs back on my bruised wrists as soon as I’m done using the bathroom. They haven’t let me sleep since… I don’t know when. I think they’re doing it to confuse me, to make me so disoriented that I can’t make good decisions. To make me doubt myself.
At least Harris left. Anderson is bad enough, always acting like everything is hunky-dory no matter what they’re doing. And Lancer is scary, but he doesn’t yell and scream at me like Harris. Or beat me when he gets angry.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
They only give me enough of those disgusting eggs to keep me going, but my stomach’s constantly rumbling and I haven’t had a real night’s sleep in days… I think? I still have no idea how long I’ve been here, whether it’s day or night, anything. My arms are covered in bruises and scrapes, both from wearing handcuffs nearly all the time now, and from Harris’s violent outbursts.
Anderson leads me back to the table, where the same pictures are staring right back up at me. I almost feel like I’m bonding a little with Nitro and the other guys, even Eagle-eye. None of us did anything to land ourselves in this situation, but here we are together all the same.
Lancer sits across from me, sipping a coffee as he reads something on a tablet. He glances up as I run a finger over the edge of Nitro’s picture. “Are you remembering something?”
“N—no,” I whisper, wondering how long it will take before I eventually give in and tell him what he wants to hear.
“But you saw the shooting? You must have if you are so sure that these aren’t the right men.” He leans his phone up against his mug with the camera facing me.
“I didn’t… no? I mean, I saw the men who did the shooting, but I was inside when it happened.” Did I really see anything? Nothing makes sense in my head anymore.
“So you saw what? Five men in motorcycle clothes resembling the Screaming Eagles at the site of the murder of three men, but did you actually see anyone shoot? Is it possible that the men you saw actually came after the actual shooters? I’m afraid I can’t show you the security footage, but I find it very suspicious that you are resisting the word of three police officers. Harris wants to throw you in jail, did you know that? I’m trying to convince him that you just need more time, but that will only work for so long.”
“I don’t want to go to jail.” My voice comes out weak and a little wobbly.
“Of course you don’t, Ms. Thompson.”
My stomach growls. I’m starving and I feel like a slime creature, still wearing the same set of grubby sweats I had when they picked me up from my house. I haven’t done anything more than spot clean a little in the sink because the idea of stripping in front of their cameras makes me sick. Eventually, I’m going to do whatever they say for clean underwear.
But I’m not quite there yet.
Lancer lets out a sigh so deep it almost makes me want to do what he says because I’m obviously a huge disappointment. “Go lay down. You’re useless like this. We’ll start again in an hour.”
I could almost cry in relief. When I’m sleeping or napping is the only time I get to feel a little by myself, even if I know it’s an illusion. I drop onto my bed and lie back, trying to pretend I’m not trapped. Trying not to think about how worried my parents must be even if the cops did contact them. I didn’t doubt them when they told me at first, but after all this, I don’t know what to think.