Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I slipped out of the foyer of the hotel we were staying in, then jaywalked across the street to the place called Eggs Bitch.
When I got inside, there was not a single soul either behind the counter or in a seat.
I frowned and looked around, my gaze settling on the menu by the cash register.
I picked it up and scanned the menu, loving all the names of the sandwiches.
I finally settled on a french toast “Sammie” and found the bell at the counter and tapped it.
There was a sound from the back and then a scuffle.
I frowned and looked toward where I heard the sound.
I waited for a good while before I started to let my imagination get away from me.
What if something was wrong?
What if there was a person hurt back there, and that was why they weren’t answering?
I knew that I should probably stay right where I was, but I couldn’t help it.
I skirted around the counter and allowed my eyes to dart around.
I was in an industrial kitchen.
I…
“Where is he?” I heard a man seethe.
Words that were said between clenched teeth.
And whomever had said it was mad.
Like mad, mad.
A choking sound, somewhat like someone trying to talk, and being unable to.
I moved more cautiously toward the sound now and came to a sudden, abrupt halt when I got to what looked like an office.
In that office were two men.
One of those men had his back to me.
The other man had a hand wrapped around his throat, was dangling a foot off the ground, and was looking a little purple.
“Now, I’ll give you one last chance to tell me…where is Cayden?”
That voice.
It was…
I gasped, the voice finally hitting its mark.
The man doing the strangling turned, and a pair of angry, navy-blue eyes met mine.
They were also spitting fire.
We hurt our own feelings thinking we meant more to people than we do.
—Brecken to Shasha
SHASHA
I’d spent the last twelve hours looking for Cayden, and the more I searched, the more that alarmed me.
His people—the ones that were able to be found—didn’t know where he was.
His family didn’t know where he was, and the only reason I’d gotten any information from them at all was because I’d let myself into Cayden’s home, and they’d been there looking terrified.
I was on the criminal underground part of asking questions, and so far, no one would talk.
I’d had to use my fists on three men so far before one had finally broken.
This coward.
The rest of his brethren that ran this storefront as a business to funnel money and make it look legit were in the freezer cooling off.
But this one, I knew I could break this one.
I’d been working him over when I’d heard the bell indicating a customer.
I’d been surprised that someone had actually come in.
I mean, the only people that came in were tourists, and it was too early to be eating anything.
Plus, I’d locked it as I’d come inside.
I’d ignored the bell, thinking maybe it was a figment of my imagination.
I’d just loosened my hand from the man’s throat when I heard it.
The gasp.
I whipped my head around, my gun automatically coming out to aim at the intruder, when I realized just who I was aiming my gun at.
I dropped my gun just as fast as it’d appeared and said, “What are you doing here?”
She opened her mouth and closed it before saying, “I wanted an egg sammie.”
I frowned. “No, what are you doing in Houston?”
I’d tracked her car to her house just a few hours ago.
If she was here, she hadn’t driven.
“I…I have a conference across the street,” she said. “I rode with another teacher.”
That explained that.
But how did she find me?
“Are you following me?” I asked.
Her back stiffened. “Are you seriously asking me if I followed you down here when you have a man pinned to the back wall looking alarmingly purple?”
I let the man drop. He hit his feet, collapsed, and fell straight to his ass.
And since I already had my gun out, I pointed it at his head and said, “You have a brother.”
“Yes,” he croaked. “In that freezer.”
“If you care about him at all, you’ll tell me what I want to know. Where’s Cayden?” I repeated my earlier question.
He licked his lips, his breaths still coming in gasps, and said, “Someone took him. Out. Not dead. Just out of the city.”
“On what?” I asked.
“A shipping container,” he answered.
“How do you know he’s on this shipping container?” I questioned.
I sensed movement behind me, but I didn’t pull my gaze away from the imbecile in front of me.
She was probably freaking out, but I had more important questions on my brain than whether or not she was calling the cops or not. If she did, I’d deal.
But for now…
“Chatter,” he whispered. “Couple of boys at the docks saw him get taken, put in a dog kennel, and loaded onto the ship unconscious.”