Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I was thankful for the outfit choice now, though. With the threat of hands I didn’t want reaching for me.
And they provided a little more warmth than my usual thin, linen dresses.
The ground in front of me was dirty, covered in years worth of filth and uneven cement flooring.
I could feel that familiar skin crawling sensation rising, and banked it back down, knowing it was not the time to let my issues with cleanliness start up.
There were bigger problems to deal with.
The light was streaming in through oversized windows with black grates on them, making a sense of familiarity tug at me.
The walls were brick, but I couldn’t see any higher than that unless I opened my eyes all the way. And I wasn’t risking that. Not yet.
It had to be some sort of… warehouse, right?
It was big, empty, drafty.
And those windows…
Suddenly, a memory came flooding back, making me look back up at them again.
They were familiar because Vega’s main social media picture was her standing in front of those very windows.
“It was part of the ghost tour!” she’d told me excitedly one morning when I’d asked.
“Do you really believe in ghosts?” I’d asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But it wasn’t about the ghosts. It was about the history. That place used to be a big manufacturing plant. Until an employee came in one day and shot everyone at their machines. Twelve dead, eighteen injured. It’s crazy. They never opened back up again. Well, except for creepy ghost tours.”
That was where this was.
The site of a major tragedy.
If I remembered correctly, it was about fifteen minutes outside of Balm Harbour, kind of in the middle of nowhere.
“Yeah, it took the paramedics forever to get there back then, two people bled out in that time,” Vega had told me.
I was close to the wall, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there were old pieces of machinery behind me. Would there be loose metal on them? Things I could grab to help me defend myself against my attackers?
I wouldn’t know until I moved, but I didn’t want to yet.
I wasn’t bound.
I guess that was a good thing.
But it could also just mean that my attacker was nearby, close enough that there was no chance of getting away.
Still, I had to count my blessings.
Not being bound meant I had my hands and legs to fight.
And, as Vega once told me, I had my mouth too.
I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I needed to. Lots of things could be bit off if you tried hard enough. And not just a penis. A nose. An ear. And while I was pretty sure I couldn’t sever it, I could do some major damage to a finger.
It didn’t have to severely maim, just distract long enough for me to run, to grab another weapon, or to get into a more public area.
I could do it.
I would do it.
I couldn’t afford to be afraid. I had to try, for once, to be brave, to find that little spark of survival inside and fan it into a burning flame.
I wasn’t going to cower.
Or freeze.
Those days were behind me.
I left them back in the prep room. Right before I sliced my own hand open.
I was going to fight.
“Christ. How hard did you hit her?” a voice asked, and my stomach tensed, but I managed to keep my body still.
Because I knew that voice.
Cold sweat started to slick my back as I realized who it was, who was behind all of this.
Dennis.
Freaking Dennis.
I hadn’t spoken to him often, sure, but he had a distinct voice, somewhat breathless and nasal. It almost wheezed on certain words.
I would know it anywhere.
And here it was.
In the warehouse.
With me.
And the man who was going to torture me.
“Hard enough to knock the crazy out of her, I hope. I mean, I can still have my fun with a crazy chick, but I was kinda looking forward to that doe-eyed, all innocent chick.”
“Yeah,” Dennis said. “I know the feeling. Ever since she walked her ass into that shop, I wanted to hike up her skirt, and fuck her from behind. Maybe up the ass,” he went on, letting out a wheezy chuckle. “All prim and proper girls, they hate that.”
“Which only makes it more fun,” the other man said, and both of them shared a chuckle.
I pressed my lips together, making sure none of the disgusted sounds that matched the way I was feeling could escape me.
Dennis.
“Missing” Dennis.
What? Was he hiding out from Cesare? Trying to screw him over somehow with the business?
“Can’t fucking believe that mafia bastard got to have her before me,” Dennis said.
Mafia bastard.
Mafia bastard.
The reality came crashing down around me, and suddenly it all made sense.
Because, of course, they were talking about Cesare. Cesare Costa. A more Italian name certainly didn’t exist. And he was from the city. Which had, historically, been the location of huge organized crime families.