Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I’m glad my mouth isn’t full or I’m sure I’d have spit out crème brûlée and that would be a waste.
“I could have told you that.” I drink the last of my wine, wipe my mouth and sit back. “I tried to in fact.”
“Finished?”
I nod.
He raises a hand and Carly, ever accommodating, comes rushing over. “Check please,” he says, taking his wallet out of his jacket pocket.
“I’m going to run to the lady’s room,” I say, and slip away before he can stop me.
“Of course, sir,” I hear her say as I hurry off, tote on my arm. I weave through the tables without looking back and make my way down the corridor bypassing the lady’s room because I see the EXIT sign above the door at the end. It’s a fire exit but someone has it propped open, and I can smell cigarette smoke. Probably the wait staff.
My ears ring with anxiety. I’m going so fast that when the men’s room door opens, I almost collide with the man coming out, catching myself just in time as the waiter who delivered our dinner opens the exit door from outside and flips his cigarette onto the ground. A woman slips in under his arm, and I catch the door before it can close. I don’t look back. Instead, as soon as I’m outside, I run. I run around the building, having to go farther than I hoped to get to where the taxis are lined up. The light turns red, but I bolt across the street, and someone honks their horn at me. I don’t care, though. I reach a taxi and the driver disconnects his call as I open the back door.
“Go! Please go!” I set one leg inside, the strap of the tote catching on the door handle.
“Where to?”
“Just go!” I tug at the bag, get it loose. I’m about to shut the door when a hand closes over the top of it, stopping me, and Ezekiel St. James leans down, eyes narrowed, jaw set. He takes hold of my arm.
“Going somewhere, Little Convict?”
21
Ezekiel
I toss a hundred-dollar bill into the front seat of the taxi and drag Blue out.
“Let me go!” she cries out.
I keep hold of her arm and march her back to the SUV, unlocking it as we approach.
“I’ll scream. I swear I’ll scream.”
I open the passenger door and spin her to face me. “You do that. You try. And I’ll swap you out for your sister.”
Emotions ravage her face, fear and rage and frustration as she opens her mouth, closes it again.
“Get your ass in the fucking car,” I hiss, depositing her inside before she has a chance to obey. Or not. Most likely not. I strap her in then take the chain she has hidden beneath her dress out and bind her to the bar on the dash. I slam her door shut and stalk across the front to my side and get in.
I am fuming. I am so fucking angry. Angry at her. At myself. What the fuck was I thinking in there? We were on some fucking date? Why in fuck’s name did I let her slip away to the bathroom?
“This isn’t safe!” she cries out as I pull out of the spot, cars behind us honking their horns when I cut them off.
I glance at her. Her head is bent forward, and she’s got the chain in one hand to give herself some slack but it’s short and she can’t sit up.
“No, I guess it isn’t.” I speed out of the city as Blue hangs on for dear life.
“Slow down! Jesus. Slow down!”
I don’t. I keep my eyes on the road and drive double the speed limit until we reach the house. Blue is gripping the bar on the dash, and I make sure to block her view of the keypad as I punch in the numbers to open the gate then drive up to the pitch-black house. I park and look at her, still fuming, still so fucking furious. Only thing is I’m not sure which of us I’m angrier with.
I climb out, slam the door shut muttering a curse as I force myself to take a deep breath in then out before stalking to her side and opening her door. I unlock the chain and instead of letting her walk, I reach in to take hold of her and lift her out, then haul her over my shoulder.
“What the fuck! Let me fucking go, you asshole!” She pounds on my back, and I smack her ass hard, making her yelp. I stomp up the stairs to the imposing, ugly front entrance of Carlton Bishop’s house, punch in the code to unlock the door and enter. I don’t bother to put on any lights but make my way upstairs in the dark.