Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
They pulled around to the back of the building where one of the big doors of the loading docks was open.
The engine cut, and the men in the front and to my other side climbed out. The door behind the man holding me opened, and he started to move backward, pulling me with him, grumbling as he did.
It was then that my innate stubbornness seemed to kick in.
They were going to take me.
But I didn’t have to make it easy, did I?
Maybe if I pissed them off enough, they’d just put a bullet in me and make it end before the torture even began.
So as the man got out, I went ahead and forced my body to go limp.
No, I likely wasn’t as heavy as he was. But it didn’t matter. Dead weight was dead weight. And as he pulled me down off the seat, a string of what sounded like curses erupted from him.
Of course, the flaw in my plan was that he wasn’t strong enough to stop my free fall, so my ass landed hard on the ground, making pain shoot up my spine.
But the way he grunted and grumbled as he tried to pull me across the pavement eased the sting a bit.
The man barked something at one of the other men who bent down, grabbing me under my knees, and lifted. Between the two of them, they got me in the air.
And that was when I did my best impersonation of one of those balloon guys they put out front of car dealerships, wiggling my body around as hard as I could, making them grunt and groan and yell at me.
I’d probably be more upset if I knew what they were saying. But my dumb ass had taken German and French in high school instead of the second most spoken language in the US.
Not that I remembered any of the German or French either.
But at least I had no idea if these guys were telling me all the awful ways they’d make me pay for being uncooperative in my kidnapping.
A win was a win.
Listening to them struggle under my wiggling weight as they went up the stairs was likely the last bit of enjoyment I would have in my life.
I didn’t have any delusions of escape.
Not with how outnumbered I was.
There were the five or six guys from Junior’s place. And there were about five more inside the back room of the empty building they dragged me into.
I mean, sure. If they were distracted enough, and I wasn’t bound, I could maybe make a mad dash toward the open loading door and just… throw myself out of it.
It would hurt like a mother, but I’d likely live unless I was stupid enough to fall on my head.
Then I could just… run for my life.
Right into the highway.
Someone would stop.
A man’s voice rang out, silencing all the others.
The boss, I imagined.
I dropped my weight fully again, catching the guys carrying me off guard enough for my ass to hit the floor.
“On the chair,” the man said, and I was a little disappointed that I could understand him. That meant I was going to have to talk to him. To what end, I don’t know.
But, I figured, at least a chair meant that no one was going to be assaulting me.
Yet.
I was lifted again, the men making strained noises until they forced me onto the chair, cold and metal beneath my ass.
No one chained me.
But the out of breath men who’d carried me in stood no more than a foot to each of my sides. Close enough to grab me if I tried anything.
“Well, we finally meet,” the man in charge said.
Some part of me didn’t want to look at him. But the stubborn side of me won out yet again, making me lift my chin and look at the man who’d been fucking with my life every single month since I’d opened my business.
He was so much less… intimidating than I’d anticipated.
Shorter than my mind had conjured up. Hell, shorter than me, even. With short black hair and dark eyes, and some sort of tattoo on the back of his hand.
He wasn’t fit, either.
I was pretty sure I could take him in a fight if things were one-on-one and fair.
But he had ten or more men with guns.
And I had nothing and no one.
“I’ll admit I’ve been hoping to never have to see your face,” I said, watching his brow lift at that.
If he wanted crying and begging, he’d involved the wrong woman in his business. I’d done enough crying and stressing and woe-is-me-ing thanks to him already. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
“And yet here we are,” he said, spreading his hands.
“Yeah, nice digs,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’d think someone bringing in half a million a month in my coffee could do better for himself,” I said, watching his nostrils flare.