Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
His face was rugged and handsome, but not in the conventional way. He had a scar that ran along the side of his head by his hairline. His jaw was covered in scruff, and it highlighted his mouth, his lips soft-looking in comparison to the rest of his face. It was all angles and rough edges, his forehead high and his cheekbones sharp. He had a mole by his mouth. His teeth were slightly crooked. His nose had obviously been broken at some point. Yet all his flaws made him even more appealing to me.
Which wasn’t good.
I shook my head. I needed to stop romanticizing the man I’d watched murder someone and then take me against my will. Regardless of what he said his reasons were, he was dangerous—on so many levels.
I was in more danger here than when I was out on the street. I was certain of this. At some point, he’d decide he was tired of me or I had fulfilled my usefulness—whatever that happened to be.
And it frightened me, wondering what he would do with me then. I had to get away and disappear.
I stared at the door, noticing that with the light shining behind it, I could see the outline of the entrance. With a start, I realized Cian hadn’t flipped the top lock. I went over quietly, testing the door handle. It was locked from the outside, but as I studied it, I knew I could remove the handle from this side and pop the flimsy lock. I could get out. My mind raced. I had seen the keys to the car Sean drove on the kitchen counter earlier. If I got out, I could steal it and be gone before they knew. Drive to the closest town and get help. I returned to the chair, pulling my knees up to my chin in case they were watching.
I had to plan. Cian had taken my cuticle file, but I still had a small broken nail file in the lining of my bag. It would work.
Cian
A noise woke me, and instantly, I was on high alert. Slowly, I opened my eyes, listening. For a moment, there was nothing, and then I heard it. A low sound—a small squeak of some sort. I couldn’t identify it right away, and carefully I slid from the bed, focusing my gaze on Skylar’s door. At first, I saw nothing, then I noticed the door handle turning. I watched as it happened again, the soft noise repeating—almost soundless, more like a low vibration. I stepped back into my room, opening the camera in Skylar’s room and redirecting the lens. She was in front of the door, kneeling, working frantically on the handle.
Picking the lock, I realized.
I suddenly recalled leaving her room earlier. I didn’t remember flipping the upper lock. She must have noticed and decided to attempt to escape. I was about to storm across the hall and stop her when curiosity overcame me. I suddenly understood Sean’s enjoyment of her inept attempts. She fascinated me with the way her mind worked endlessly, always seeking opportunities.
Now that I was awake, she had zero chance of getting away, but I was interested to see her plan. I slid back into bed just as I heard the low rasp of the door opening. The house was still again, aside from the grumbling noises coming from Sean’s room. He was going to be disappointed he missed this one.
I heard her steps. Careful. Measured. Almost silent. Heading toward the kitchen. I listened carefully, the sound of metal moving making me frown. Then I realized she had taken Sean’s keys. I tried not to laugh at her attempt of adding grand theft auto to her list.
A thought came to my head. Could she even drive? She had never mentioned it, and when I’d looked at her wallet, there had been no driver’s license.
My amusement grew, wondering how Sean would take his car being totaled. He was very fond of her, but he did like his car.
A low, shuffling noise made me turn my head slightly. Skylar slid past my door on her knees, stopping to peek in, making sure I was still asleep. I feigned deep breaths, adding a small grunt for good measure while watching her through narrowed eyes. Satisfied, she kept going. A few moments later, the front door opened and shut quickly. Quietly. I slipped from bed, following, stopping to grab the extra fob to the car. I peered outside, watching as she put on her shoes and jacket, then picked up her backpack and rushed toward the garage. I followed behind her once I heard the car door shut, the sound quiet. Casually, I strolled over, waiting, watching. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so I could see her. She looked around the dash, obviously trying to determine how to start the car. She was pushing buttons, stepping on the pedals, finally succeeding. I tried not to burst out laughing at her satisfied expression, thinking she had found the right way to complete her mission. She was so busy, she never noticed me walking closer, standing beside the car on the passenger side. She attempted to shift into drive, frowning as she was unable to do so. She began to panic, knowing the longer she sat there in a running car, the greater the chances of being caught.