Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“We don’t,” Jagger sighed. “But we know that her car, along with her purse and phone, was just sitting on the side of the road. Bitch does not go anywhere without her purse or phone.”
All blood had drained from my body by the time I got to the door that had been left ajar.
“We have to tell Violet,” Colby’s strained, anxious voice filtered out.
“No way in fuck,” Elden replied.
“She knows her better than anyone else,” Jagger argued. “She may know something that could give us a chance. Give her a chance.”
“We’re not telling Violet shit,” Elden barked. “Not until we know for sure.”
“Too late,” I informed him, pushing the door open, staring at the table full of very serious and worried looking bikers whose heads had all swiveled in my direction.
Rapidly, Elden stood, stalking toward me. I held up my hand to stop his approach.
Instead, I focused on Hansen at the head of the table. My flight attendant.
Except he did not look calm, in control. His features were tight. His hand was fisted on top of the table.
This was not just turbulence. The plane was going down.
I swayed on my feet.
There was a screech as a bunch of men prepared to come to my aid.
But naturally, Elden was much quicker than anyone else, his arms around me.
I scowled at him but needed his arms because I wasn’t completely sure I wasn’t going to fall over.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“Why don’t we get you to sit down?” Elden tried to guide me toward the nearest chair.
My eyes found his. “I don’t want to sit down. I want someone to tell me what’s going on.”
“Sariah is missing,” Hansen told me, his tone tight but controlled.
I forgot how to breathe. “Missing?”
He bobbed his head. “We can’t be sure, but we think he took her.”
He.
By he Hansen meant the killer who had been butchering young women and had almost killed me.
My brain struggled to process this information.
Elden’s arms tightened around me.
“But this serial killer has a specific victim profile,” I argued. “Sex workers from a troubled background. Sariah is a college student from a wealthy background.”
Colby’s face was a mask of fury. “No, she’s not,” he grumbled. I’d never seen him look so serious, so angry, so worried.
No, I had seen him look like that before. The day I’d escaped covered in blood with a knife protruding from my back.
“What are you talking about? I go to college with her,” I argued. “She is one of the most well-liked students on campus. By the faculty and students.”
“Yeah, but she pays for her tuition, her fancy shit, her entire lifestyle by working webcams.” Colby’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it.
Nothing of my easygoing, cheeky friend remained. This was a cold-blooded outlaw. A chill passed through me at the sight … along with what he had said.
I looked from him to Elden who was holding me in a vice-like grip.
“What?” I whispered.
Elden rubbed my arms. “We only just found out. We’ve got a hacker in the Amber chapter who informed us.”
I saw his lips moving and heard the words, but they were coming through a vacuum.
“And you found out that she, her parents…”
“They live in a small town in Utah,” Elden said somberly. “They live paycheck to paycheck.”
I gulped at the information.
“So she makes her money, all of her money from her webcams,” Colby said. “From what we can gather, she doesn’t actually go on any dates with clients. But I doubt he’s strict on that facet of his victim profile.”
Victim profile
Sariah was a victim.
Again.
After she’d finally healed from the last time a man tried to make her into a victim because of what he thought he could take from her.
My breathing was rapid and shallow, my throat was bone dry, making it impossible to swallow. I squeezed my eyes shut through that and the burning pain at the base of my spine.
“You need to calm down,” Elden murmured against my ear.
My jaw dropped. “Let’s forget that saying that sentence to a woman, in any circumstance, is an act of war, let alone saying it to a pregnant woman,” I informed him as evenly as I could muster. “But it is straight up insanity saying it to a pregnant woman whose best friend has just been taken by a serial killer!” Now I was screaming.
“And you are almost nine months pregnant,” he hissed, obviously hanging on by a thread.
I should’ve given him some compassion since he was likely traveling back to the place where he thought I was going to die at the hands of this killer. But I was almost nine months pregnant, hormonal and worried about my best friend who I had just discovered I didn’t really know at all.
“Yes, Elden, I’m pregnant,” I gripped my eyes between my thumb and forefinger. “Vikings fought while pregnant, women in countries that don’t have maternity leave and don’t have any other options work through labor. I think I can handle getting a little pissed off and worried.”