Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Yep, he had a girlfriend in Ohio and twin five-year-old boys. Life [Ei1][2]took a hard left after that, and it hasn’t really turned back since.
Mom went AWOL, Dad moved to Cleveland, and Aunt Jess became the only stable part of my life. If not for her, I’m pretty sure I would have ended up God knows where doing God knows what.
Working at the frame shop may not look like life goals for a lot of people, but it’s a reasonable paycheck, it’s creative, and it’s not all I want to do. For now, it gives me a way to take care of Jess, and I owe her that.
But I still have dreams of walking runways, and of striking awkward poses on top of snow-covered mountains, wearing the latest Dolce or Versace.
The sound of an engine snaps me out of my stupor, the breeze shaking the dried leaves on the one remaining oak tree that leans precariously toward the upper peak of the house.
A car approaches, slowing as I bolt for the back door. There are only two reasons a car would be on this street. One, maybe the cops wondering why someone is at a condemned structure. More likely, someone looking for trouble.
Without thinking, I’m barreling through the back door and into the dining room, where my aunt is still sitting with her eyes now pinned on the front door.
“Someone’s here,” she says without turning my way, and the chill from outside follows me as I march to the foyer, leaning over to peek through the leaded glass side window flanking the front door.
“Fuck,” I snap, shooting Jess a tight smile over my shoulder.
“Lemme guess, black Lincoln?”
I nod, noting the slight tremble in her chin.
My stomach drops to the floor as I sprint back through the dining room to the kitchen, tugging on the drawer next to the stove.
It sticks as I curse, give it a kick with the heel of my boot, then try again. With another tug, it squeaks open, revealing a disorganized drawer of kitchen utensils.
Although I moved Jess out and into the apartment a year ago, so she could be closer to the medical center and not have to worry about the house falling down around her, she insisted on leaving the house as is, with all the contents still in place. Her way of telling me the move was only temporary, no matter what the writing on the wall was spelling out. So there are still knives inside the drawer, and knowing who is coming to the door, I’m glad there’s a good selection.
I grab the longest, sharpest one I see, tightening my fingers around the wooden grip, and manage to make it back to the dining room to stand in front of my aunt before a single hard knock hits the front door.
In the space of a breath, the knock is followed by a loud boom and a crack as the assholes don’t even try the handle. Instead, they choose intimidation, with one enormous thick-browed goon slamming through the door and into the foyer with two more men in tow.
“I’m calling the police!” Jess screams, as I spin to find her already poking at her phone.
Her eyes widen as the smaller of the three men, with gray at his temples and a stupid diamond pinky ring, starts walking around the room, inspecting the furniture with a single finger, tsking as he pulls it up covered with dust.
“There’s no police coming.” He chuckles, turning to face us, as the muscle twins flank him on either side. He steps forward, waving a hand toward the ceiling, and smiles on a sympathetic shake of his head. His eyes are fixed on Jess, whose own gaze is darting from me to the men, and back to her phone. “Let me guess, no signal out here?”
He shakes his head as Jess holds my gaze, her face falling white as she struggles to her feet, swaying unsteadily. I rush to her side to grab her elbow, my heart working its way into my throat.
I brandish the knife in my other hand, which only draws more laughter from all three men.
“She’s cute.” The smaller man jerks his head my way, the humor leaving his voice. “More than cute. She could use her assets to sweeten the deal, then work off the rest. She’s very marketable.”
Marketable. I’ve heard that word a lot as an aspiring model. But the way he says it sends a wave of goosebumps over my heated skin.
They move in silent unison, closing in, the heavy sense of foreboding filling the musty dining room.
“Don’t touch us,” I snap, jabbing the knife forward into the air, wishing I hadn’t put my hair into two pigtails this morning.
“Forgive me.” The boss flattens his hand over his red tie on a slight bow. “I’ve forgotten my manners. We haven’t met formally, but our lawyers have. I thought it was time we met in person. Get things sorted out once and for all. All these legal bills, they have to be a burden for someone like you.”