Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Flip to the next one.”
Her mind raced as she swiped the screen with a numb finger. The girl was on her back in the truck with Zach's shaggy head between her spread thighs.
Nausea twisted her stomach as she swiped again. Same scene, same girl, Zach's hips now wedged between her legs, his pants stretched beneath his bare ass. Amber's body temperature skyrocketed, and her chest tightened. What did this mean to Van? Why would he show her this? “How do you know him?”
“I met this guy in a bar on Sixth Street last night. He told me he was fucking a whack job named Amber on Tuesdays and Fridays, and he wanted to stick his dick in a real woman.”
Her hands locked into fists. He could've been making that up.
He tucked the tablet beneath his arm. “With the lights on.”
Her stomach dropped, and an ache swelled, angry and painful, around her heart. “So you thought you'd...what? Enlighten me? While waving a fucking gun?” It was too much, too many surprises coming at her too damned fast. “Well, guess what? I am a whack job, and he can fuck whom he wants. Why do you care?”
His pupils flared, swallowing the silver rims of his eyes. “He's due at noon? Yes or no.”
Son of a bitch. “No. Twelve-o-four.”
He glanced at the side table, and she followed his gaze. 11:58 glowed on the clock.
No way did he just happen upon Zach at a bar after he just happened upon her porch. She gritted her teeth. “How long have you been watching my house?” And how the hell did he get in? “Oh my God. You stole my key? You arrogant, thieving dickhead!”
“Be careful, Amber.” His icy glare raised bumps over her skin. “Cover yourself up.” He waved a hand at the closet. “You have thirty seconds.”
Of all the women in Austin, why her? If he knew her schedule, maybe he'd figured out Zach was the only person who would notice if she disappeared. Hell, he had her phone. If he'd looked at the log, he'd know she talked to no one, had no one.
She strode to the closet, trying like hell to keep her shaking arms over her thinly-covered boobs. “What are you going to do to him?”
“If you ask another question, I'll kill him, slow and messy, all over your carpet.”
Her mind played out that scenario in Technicolor, and her thoughts degraded to a sick, selfish place where her disorder bred and thrived. The damage to her carpet would be permanent, a constant reminder, and she couldn't afford to replace it.
“If you convincingly chase him away, I'll let him live.” He glared at her, his lips pressed in a line. “And I do mean convincingly. The fucker better walk out of here without a doubt in his mind he'll never see you again. I just gave you the ammo to do it. Use it. Fifteen seconds.”
She dressed in a hurried daze, fumbling on jeans and tugging a t-shirt over the cami. This wasn't happening. If she chased Zach away, how long would it be before someone found her body? Or worse, found her house empty?
Would he try to kidnap her? Her skin grew clammy, and a tremor shook her legs. “I can't go outside. You'll have to shoot me first.” Either way, she wouldn't survive.
“I'll be right in here.” He stalked to the closet and gripped the door, with the gun trained on her. “If you fuck this up, if Zachary shows a hint of suspicion, I'll shoot him. Sit on the bed.”
How had she not seen this coming when she met him? She'd let this man into her house, for fucksake. Such a stupid, stupid girl. She deserved this. She wiped at the copious sweat clinging to her face and arms, her ramping heart rate thrashing pinpricks through her head.
Breathing deeply, over and over, she sat on the bed and prepared to drive away the only person she had in her life.
Van faded within the shadow of the closet, leaving the door open a sliver, with a line of sight directly on her.
Six huge breaths later, the rumble of Zach's truck sounded in the driveway. Her heart hammered so painfully, she wanted to double over from the agony of it. She could do this. Her odds of surviving sucked, but she could save Zach.
The front door opened and rattled shut. Van must've left it unlocked, already knowing her routine. Knowing too much. She didn't dare look at the closet door for fear she'd unravel into a worthless blob of panic.
Footsteps pounded down the hall, and Zach's tall, thin frame appeared in the doorway. Images of him with that girl girded her spine, even as a lump clogged her throat. It wasn't jealousy. It was the strangling reminder that she hadn't been good enough.