Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Hello,” I say. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. My name is Erick Costa and we need to talk about the money your father stole from my casino.”
I take one step backwards. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. It’s been all over the news.” He pushes off my bumper. Erick’s enormous, athletic, muscular. Tattoos peek out from his collar and at his wrists. His shoes are probably worth more than the contents of my apartment. Everything about him screams danger. A sleek, beautiful, deadly terror rolls down my spine.
“If my dad was involved, I don’t know anything about it. I haven’t seen him in three weeks, and I’ve barely spoken to him over the last year.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Your old man’s been very busy and very patient. It would be impressive if it also didn’t make me look bad.”
“Like I said, I can’t help you.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but unfortunately you don’t have much of a choice. Come with me, Heloise, and we can figure this out together.”
“My name’s Hellie,” I blurt out since it’s weird hearing him call me that. “And I need to go home. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, or—”
“You misunderstand,” he says. “This isn’t a request. I’m being polite right now, but that can change. Last warning—Hellie.” He tilts his head and I swear the ghost of a smile brushes over his lips as if he’s almost forgotten how to. “I like that, Hellie, like you’re a little devil.”
“Please,” I say, choking out the word. I look around for help but there’s nobody around, only rows of empty cars. “I don’t know anything about what my father did. I just want to go home.”
“Last time I’ll offer. Let’s make this easy.”
I take one step away from him and suck in a deep breath.
Dad didn’t teach me much. He didn’t show me how to braid hair or throw a ball. He didn’t teach me math or reading, never talked about history or philosophy.
But he did show me other stuff, and one of his most important lessons was this:
Never let the bastards catch you, Hellie. Run!
I turn and take off. I’m in decent shape—I like taking long jogs around my neighborhood after I get home from work—and I’m quick enough to dodge between a pair of trucks, heading for the open street. If I can make it to the far end of the strip mall where Picasso’s Drinking Problem’s tucked in the back corner, I’ll be able to yell for help from the people waiting for the bus or the people heading into the fancy new Mexican place they opened up last week.
I run hard, sucking in air, adrenaline and terror ringing through me like a gunshot. Erick’s not following, or I don’t think he is, and I turn to reach the open space, and if I can just make it—
Something hits me like a truck. The breath gets slammed from my lungs and I land on my ass hard, barely keeping my head from smashing back onto the pavement. I skin my palms and hurt my ankle, and I sit there, dazed and blinking tears from my eyes, as an enormous body looms over me.
“Should’ve been polite,” he says. It’s another massive guy, muscular, almost square, with a small nose and curly hair combed back. “Now we gotta do this.”
He kneels on me. It’s like an anvil dropped on my chest. I gasp for air, try to speak, but I make only a pathetic wheezing noise. I’m choking or getting crushed to death, I don’t know, but my legs start to kick when Erick appears. The guy on my chest grabs my right arm and pins it to the ground so hard I can’t move, even though I’m fighting as hard as I can.
Erick unrolls a leather satchel and takes out a needle.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “We’re careful. Ren will keep you nice and still. I figured out your height and weight. I checked your medical history to make sure you don’t have any allergies. Propofol’s relatively safe, anyway, but the doctor’s waiting just to make sure. You’ll be okay, Hellie. My devil girl.”
“Wait,” I gasp, trying harder to fight as the needle lowers to my arm. “No, no no no, please.”
“Sorry,” he says, and genuinely looks like he means it, as he sinks the needle into my vein. It’s a sharp pinch, and I release a terrified groan. “It’ll be quick. Faster than you think. I bet you won’t even—”
Blackness hits, and I’m gone.
Chapter 2
Erick
I place the unconscious Heloise—Hellie—into the back seat of the SUV idling nearby. “Check her, Doc.”
Roger Okara leans over and starts fussing with her vitals. I make sure she’s comfortable, her seatbelt tight, her limp body propped against the door with a small pillow under her head. This isn’t my first kidnapping and it won’t do to give the girl a concussion.