Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Curious, I moved toward Judah, pretending that putting on his bib was an intricate task as I let my gaze slide toward the doorway, seeing the guards move past the kitchen. Likely toward Warren’s office.
So, he’d lived through the night.
Unfortunately.
Did a part of me feel bad for wishing for the death of my son’s father? I mean, yeah. But the larger part of me knew just what Warren would turn my sweet boy into if given the chance to do so.
The thing was, as I pretended not to look, I realized it wasn’t just some of the guards.
Oh, no.
It was all of them.
All of them.
My head whipped to the side, looking out the side door toward the driveway.
Where the driver in his khakis and black polo was bringing reusable bags toward the front door. Leaving the running van… unattended.
I didn’t stop to think.
I didn’t even consider the chance that one of the guards was maybe still loitering around the grounds.
I just whipped Judah out of the chair, yanked open the door, and ran.
My heartbeat was slamming in my chest as Judah let out a little giggle, excited by the sudden adventure, even though I was practically crushing him against me.
My gaze oscillated around the grounds and back toward the house, trying to tell if anyone was around, if someone could be seeing me.
Warren’s office was on the other side of the building. So he and his men couldn’t possibly see me as I got to the van, finding one of the solid back doors ever so slightly ajar.
“Thank you thank you thank you,” I whispered to the heavens as I yanked open the door, and climbed inside, closing it with as quiet a click as possible.
The inside of the van was cramped.
Both sides were lined with metal shelving filled with multi-colored bins, each bin almost overflowing with bags. More deliveries to be done.
There was a small gap between the shelving units and the back door, and I squished my body into it, squeezing as small as possible, holding Judah tightly against me, so we wouldn’t be seen if he climbed in and looked back.
There was a straight path up the center of the van and to the front seats, making me hope that when we reached the next stop, I could walk upward as he climbed out, then slip out the front before he could even know we were there.
I tensed as I heard footsteps coming closer, some part of me terrified it was Warren, that he would drag us right back to our hell. In front of the driver. He wouldn’t care. He would shoot the driver if he had to.
But the footsteps came to the back, and the van jolted a bit as he shoved at the doors, likely remembering leaving one slightly ajar.
Then he moved toward the front and I felt my belly wobble as I had to press my hand over Judah’s mouth, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t fight me, that he wouldn’t shriek under my hand.
He looked up at me with those big brown eyes, then reached out to press his hand over my mouth.
Though as the van turned over, my fears about Judah being heard slipped away as the driver’s metal music started to blast from the speakers.
I released my hold on Judah’s mouth, mainly so I could grab the built-in shelving units with a death grip as the van started to make its way down the winding driveway, and down the road.
We weren’t stopped.
Not as we turned out of the driveway, as we made our way down the road.
We just… kept driving.
Hope, something that had been more of a distant desire than a possible reality, swelled in my chest as Judah patty-caked against my chest, as he tugged on my necklace, as he used both of his hands to smush my lips and push up my eyelids.
This was it.
This was our shot at freedom.
Eventually, the van pulled to a stop, and I released the shelf to press my hand over Judah’s mouth once again as the music lowered, then the van shifted as the driver climbed out.
I didn’t pause.
I rushed up the van silently in my sock-clad feet, making my way toward the passenger side, since it was the one facing away from the house, quietly opened the door, and rushed out, making my way across the lawn toward the neighbor’s house, then down the driveway.
I likely looked insane, wide-eyed, without shoes, carrying a baby down the street. No purse. No carriage.
No… nothing.
I had… nothing.
No purse, no ID, no credit cards or cash.
I kicked myself for not considering this part more.
There were obvious options, of course.
The police station or the local women’s shelter.
The problem was that I knew that Warren had some of the local police in his pocket. I’d been in the SUV when he’d met up with them on dark streets, handing them envelopes I’d guessed were full of cash.