Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “If you get sick, it’s my ass he’ll be kicking.”
“Okay. I’m going to make a deal with you,” I say.
He narrows his eyes. “Oh, uh-uh. No, no deals.”
“But you don’t even know what the deal is.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t need to make a deal with you, you’re a hostage. I should be the one offering you options, not the other way around.”
“Gee, thanks for pointing that out to me. As if I didn’t already know,” I grumble.
We sit silently for a few moments, then I hear him sigh, followed shortly by a groan. “What deal?”
“If you need me to do anything, just ask me. I would do anything, anything, to avoid having to deal with him.”
“He scares you, huh?” His brown eyes study mine.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay, but, just so you know, we don’t deal with women. We don’t take hostages, so none of us really know how to handle this. This is not like him. He’s normally more...tolerant with women,” he explains. “I’ll try and keep him away from you.”
I flash him a small smile. “Thanks, Caleb.” I don’t hold out much hope, though. Jude seems to treat Caleb just barely better than he treats me.
“Pain in my ass,” he mumbles, laughing.
“Please, can we leave this room?” I whine.
Four days. We’ve been in this one room for four days. There’s a bathroom with a toilet and a sink, but no shower. Caleb gave me one of his shirts and a pair of basketball shorts yesterday, because he felt sorry for me, but I really don’t smell great. Apparently hostages don’t get to wash. At least I haven’t seen Jude since our little sandwich incident.
Caleb takes a deep breath and throws me an exasperated look.
“Pretty please.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
“Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Caleb! I’m going to go bat shit bloody crazy if you don’t let me out of these four walls.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You’re a pain in my fucking ass, girl.” He rubs the back of his neck. I can tell he’s contemplating it. His eyes raise from the floor and he narrows them on me. It’s obvious he’s trying to make himself appear hard and intimidating with that look, and it almost works, but I’ve spent too much one-on-one time with him to feel threatened by him. “I’ll take you out,” he says, “but you have to stay close to me. Jude will fucking crucify me if he knows I let you out of here, okay?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Okay.”
He casts one last semi-threatening look at me, and then signals for me to follow him out the door. We make our way through the corridor and down the stairs. I have no idea where we’re going. I survey everything, trying to commit the layout of the house to memory.
He leads me into the kitchen. “You want anything to eat?” I don’t miss the way his lips quirk as he says it. Bastard.
“Ha fucking ha.”
“Just checking.” He smile and grabs a packet of crisps from the cupboard before leading me back out of the kitchen. “Come on.”
We walk down a hallway until we come to an entrance hall. An entrance hall with a large stained glass front door, the same door I came in through. He keeps walking, crossing the hall into a lounge. There are several flat screen TVs, all of which are switched off. Caleb picks up the remote and turns on one of the TV’s. I see an opportunity, and I take it. I don’t think, I just act on instinct. I will not fucking die in this house. I pick up a lamp from one of the side tables and swing it at the back of his head.
Porcelain shards spray across the room, and Caleb grabs at the back of his head.
“Fuck!” he roars.
Before he can recover, I kick him in the nuts. His hands grab between his legs as he coughs and falls to his knees with a thud.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” I shout as I’m already running out of the room.
I sprint across the entry hall and throw open the front door. I don’t stop. I just keep sprinting. I catch sight of two men to the left of the door in my periphery. Fuck it. I’d sooner die trying than just give up. The gravel of the driveway bites into my bare feet, but I don’t care. Just keep running!
“Don’t fucking shoot her!” I hear Caleb’s voice somewhere behind me. “Don’t shoot her!” He sounds panicked and I don’t know if it’s because Jude is going to have his arse, or if it’s because those two men have rifles aimed at the back of my head, but I don’t really care. All I can focus on right at this moment is getting the hell out of here.
I can hear footsteps thundering behind me. I want to scream in frustration as I push myself to run just a little faster. I can hear them getting closer, and closer, until suddenly a weight ploughs into my back, sending me stumbling forward and crashing to the ground. My forehead smacks the sunbaked lawn, making my teeth jar together upon impact. The next thing I know some man is straddling me and pulling my arms behind my back. He holds both my wrists in one hand, and yanks me up by them, straining my shoulders until they feel like they’re about to be ripped from their sockets.