Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back away, doesn’t apologize, or admit she’d made a mistake by getting back in my line of fire.
“Can I get you something, sweetheart?”
Neither of us turn our attention to the waitress as she speaks.
Lauren doesn’t rush to place an order. She takes her time, drawing unnecessary attention to the two of us. It’s smart, tactical.
“Black coffee and two scrambled eggs.”
“Toast or hash browns?”
Lauren slowly lifts her eyes, lip quivering slightly. “I’m not allowed to have carbs.”
Her eyes dart in my direction, terror making them shiny as she slowly lifts her hand to her throat.
I nearly smile at her, only managing to keep my lips flat as the waitress gasps.
“It’ll… umm… be just a few minutes,” the waitress stammers before darting away.
No other words are spoken. Lauren doesn’t say thank you when the waitress carries over a cup of coffee.
“Your eggs… they’ll be here any minute,” the waitress assures her.
Lauren nods, her eyes glassy as she once again makes eye contact with the waitress.
She doesn’t wince when she takes a gulp of coffee despite the steam coming from the cup, but when she places it back on the table, I notice smudges on it.
Without warning, I reach out and flip Lauren’s hand over.
“Fucking bitch,” I growl as low as I can manage at seeing the words HELP ME scrawled on her palm in lipstick.
Lauren chuckles, and I realize when I thought she was drawing the woman’s attention to the marks I left on her skin, she was actually flashing the plea on her palm.
“My eggs will be here any minute,” she mocks, her voice low and taunting, her face still that of a terrified woman.
God, she’s fucking good.
I stand, pulling money from my pocket. I drop it to the table and make my way to the front door of the diner.
The waitress looks like she wants to speak out, but I know she won’t. There’s nothing she can do to stop me.
The sound of distant police sirens fills the air, confirming that Lauren’s ploy worked and the police are on their way to investigate.
The second I open the driver’s side door, the passenger side opens as well.
I don’t have time to argue with her, to demand she get out of my fucking truck.
I wouldn’t put it past the devious bitch to tell them exactly what happened last night in that fucking motel room.
She’s intelligent enough to take pictures and DNA samples before jumping in the shower and washing my cum from her skin.
She’d lie and say she came to my room to arrest me for kidnapping and in turn, I raped her.
She’d never mention the safe word—not that I would’ve listened if she used it. She’d never tell them that she came on my dick.
Her word, that of an FBI agent, against mine, a low-life scum who bounces from place to place, breaking the law.
I know exactly how it would go, but as I drive off with her in the passenger seat, I still don’t regret a single fucking thing I’ve ever done.
Chapter 10
Lauren
“Fucking quit,” I snap when Angel smacks my hand for the third fucking time when I try to reach for the power button to the radio. “It’s too fucking quiet in here.”
“I like it quiet,” he says, his tone conversational despite the grip he has on the steering wheel.
I hate the fucking silence. It drives me crazy. It’s too easy to hear all the shit in my head. I need a distraction, something else to focus on.
He doesn’t allow it.
I’m going mad, riding around town with this man. He doesn’t seem to have any real destination in mind, but he is sticking close to Farmington for some reason.
I want to question him, grill him about his plans, demand that he tell me why he isn’t leaving town, especially after abducting a little girl and turning her over to Cerberus.
I know I would never share the details of my work with him, so it doesn’t make much sense to expect him to offer anything to me.
The truck slows as we approach a ravine.
This could be it, where he finally gives in to that hatred for me that seeps from his pores.
I got a glimpse of that man last night.
He was rough, brutal, but I can also tell he wasn’t as bad as he could’ve been. I have no idea why he held back, but I’m fucking determined to find out or die trying.
The latter may become a reality sooner than I anticipated as the truck rolls to a stop, his eyes pinned on the view past my head rather than on me.
I hate him for the lack of attention.
He almost grinned when he found out what I did back at the diner. It wasn’t very noticeable, but I caught the slightest lip twitch. It felt like high praise coming from him, and my dark soul latched on to that for some fucked-up reason.