Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Some things, I can do with my eyes closed. Working behind the register at the store is one of them.
If anything, I’m kind of glad to be working today. I can switch my brain off while going through the motions of greeting customers and ringing them up. I can read during quiet times when there’s nobody in the store. If I was home, there’s a good chance I would zone out, reliving every terrible moment of my captivity. I think the worst part was having no idea what time it was, how long I had been in there. How much longer I would have to survive it.
Dad is in the back, dealing with inventory stuff, which is another small blessing. He doesn’t even know I didn’t come home yesterday. He hasn’t said a word about it.
Something has been on his mind lately—again, I remember Kellen mentioning the beating Dad took. The question of why the beating happened is more important than who delivered it, and I have to wonder how much Dad is hiding from us. Not that he has to work hard to hide anything from Mom, zoned out as she always is, and not that he would typically share things with me, anyway. But if there are problems, challenges, I feel like I would rather know about them than have it all be a secret.
Timing is an incredible thing sometimes. Like the timing of Kellen releasing me from my prison when he did, just early enough that I was able to get ready for the day before my parents knew I was gone. I stand behind the counter, asking myself what Dad could be hiding from us, when the bell above the door chimes, and I look up to find two tough-looking guys strolling in.
Something about them makes my body go still and my senses sharpen. Something about the overly casual way they look around tells me they’re not customers. They seem hostile, like they’re sizing the place up and taking a mental inventory.
The younger of the two, shorter with flinty eyes, looks at me before one corner of his mouth slides upward in a way that makes me want to gag. I have truly had enough of men to last me a long time, but I’m supposed to be professional, so I give him a tight smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, you can. Where is the owner?”
Meanwhile, his buddy walks along the ends of the four rows, looking down each like he expects to find something.
“I can get him for you, if you want.” Something tells me I shouldn’t, but then again, something tells me they won’t leave until they see him. I don’t get the sense that these are the kinds of guys who accept the word no easily.
As it turns out, Dad must be watching the feed from the camera mounted over the door. Suddenly, he’s rushing out from the office. “If you’re here to see me, see me,” he barks, red-faced, teeth bared in a snarl. “Leave her alone.”
“That’s just fine.” The older man—not exactly old, but closer to middle age than the other one—looks friendly but sounds menacing as he steps up to Dad, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “You know what we’re here for, so don’t waste our time.”
What are they here for? The question sits in my mouth, where I hold it back behind clenched teeth.
“Nico, why don’t we go back to my office and talk about this?” Dad keeps glancing my way, telling me he doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of me. Is this what he’s been hiding? What do these men want with him?
“There’s really nothing to talk about,” the younger guy says, while Nico squeezes his shoulder. I can see his fingers sinking in until Dad winces. “We’re here to collect what you owe.”
His tongue darts out to moisten his lips while my thoughts race. That’s what this is about? I should’ve known. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s owed money, but it is the first time it’s gone this far, with people threatening him, beating him.
“I don’t have the full amount,” he says with a shrug. “I can give you everything I can spare right now, but it’s not the full amount.” Sweat trickles down his temple, and he starts to tremble when he gets no reaction from the two men standing in front of him. God, I wish he kept a gun under the counter. At least I wouldn’t feel so helpless.
“That’s too bad, Frank,” Nico says, pulling him in close, almost whispering. “Because Dante and me, we have orders.”
“Our boss told us if you can’t pay, things have to get ugly.” Dante actually manages to sound like he regrets what he’s about to do before he walks over to a rack of magazines and tips it onto the floor, where it lands with a deafening crash.