Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Lenore says nothing. What can she say? I’m a hundred percent right.
One of the officers regards the manager. “We’re going to need to talk to this Nesbitt again.”
“You’re welcome to, but I don’t know where the hell he is.” She taps on her phone. “I’m getting those stairwells locked now.”
“Doesn’t seem like things are going by the book here,” Reid says.
“I don’t know what your security guidelines are here, ma’am,” one of the officers says. “I don’t think it’s going very well.”
“Shit.” I rub my hand over my forehead. “If someone from hotel security is indeed working with the guys upstairs, then he’s already alerted them to the fact that we know they’re still here.”
“Leif,” Reid says, “don’t go off halfcocked.”
“What the hell would you have me do? A bunch of derelicts are up there holding my woman captive. These aren’t nice men, Reid. You know what kind of men they are. The kind of men who visited your father’s infamous island.”
Reid’s cheeks redden. He’s angry, but I don’t care. I don’t blame him for what his father did. I never have. But right now? Right now they have Kelly. People who probably were on that island, violating her in unthinkable ways.
And I’m tired of it. I am tired of being in danger, but more than that? I’m tired of my woman being in danger.
We’ve already lost one.
What happened to Brindley will not happen to Kelly.
But I’m helpless. Helpless. I can’t go after the SWAT team, and I can’t even go up to the floors and search myself because the building’s on lockdown. The elevators are locked. The stairwells should be locked by now. All the doors are fucking locked.
I’m fucking helpless.
Just like that day…
That day when I heard Wolf die.
But I didn’t stay helpless for long.
This one wears sunglasses.
He wears sunglasses inside, and I don’t know why. I don’t care why.
But those sunglasses give me an idea.
The place smells. Smells of stale urine and my own shit. But I eat the crust of bread the fuckers brought to me. I eat it while the guard watches me. Taunts me in broken English.
“You think you tough, SEAL. You think you so tough.”
Wolf is gone, but so help me, I won’t let the same thing happen to Buck. My hands are cuffed together, but at least I’m not hanging.
So I look down. I don’t meet the fucker’s gaze. Because I know about body language. I want him to think I’m meek. Scared.
The set of keys, along with a pistol, hangs on his belt. I eat the bread, careful to leave the dry crust.
Then I wait.
I wait for the moment I know will come.
I wait for him to get complacent.
When he drops his gaze, I attack. Quick as a flash, I shove the dry crust into his eye, and then push him to the ground. The muscles in my thighs are weak, but I clench them around the neck of the fucker who thinks he’s going to shove a broom handle inside me. Not after what they did to Wolf. What they may be doing to Buck.
I squeeze.
I fucking squeeze.
I fucking squeeze the life out of him until I hear the crack of his bones. I let go, grab the keys and the pistol. Quickly I try the keys until I find the one that unlocks my cuffs. Then I peel the clothes off the guard’s dead body, shove the sunglasses into the shirt pocket, and leave the foul-stenched cell.
No time to get dressed. I walk, still naked, until I find another guard. I shoot him through the head before he sees me, and when others come running to defense, I shoot them all too, until they’re piled in a heap.
Then I search for Buck.
I unlock every door, staying as quiet as I can, until—
I find him. He’s naked, on the ground, blood seeping from him. I place my hand on his neck.
He’s alive.
“Buck!” I whisper harshly.
His eyes open.
“Come on. We’re getting you out of here.”
“How?”
“Friends on the inside. The guards have been…detained. We don’t have much time.”
He makes it to his feet. We always make it to our feet.
“Clothes?
“Waiting for us. Guards’ clothes.”
“Guards’ clothes?”
The door to Buck’s cell is open, and I pull him through it.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Fine,” Buck groans. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
I lead him to the pile of dead guards.
The other prisoners taunt us, but we pay them no mind.
They yell at us in foreign languages, sometimes in English. “Take us with you! Please!”
It hurts me to ignore their pleas, but I have no choice.
I’m on a mission, and the mission comes first.
“Come on. That one looks about your size.” I gesture to one of the unconscious guards.
“Right.” Buck gets to work undressing the guard.
I put on his clothing and take everything, including his firearms.