Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Are you kidding?” she scoffs. “You’re the designated driver for the next… how many months will it be until you give me a sibling?”
“Cute. You’ll still have to pick up your car.”
She shrugs it off, rounding the back of the car on her way to the passenger seat. “Or I could send Romero over here to pick it up. It’s been too long since I’ve made him do anything for me.”
“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been as hard on him as you used to be.” I observe her over the roof of the car, curious to see her reaction.
I never get the chance.
Caught up in the excitement of seeing her, I didn’t pay any attention to the black SUV with tinted windows parked next to my car. Not until the back door opens, and a pair of arms shoot out, wrapping around Tatum and pulling her into the car.
My brain shuts down at the sight of it. Like I can’t handle what my eyes are telling me. Things like this don’t happen. This isn’t happening.
Yet before I can suck in enough breath to scream, a man dressed in black clamps a cloth over her nose and mouth. All I see is her wide, terror-filled eyes before she’s pulled into the vehicle, feet kicking helplessly.
I’m frozen. It’s like I’m watching from miles away, frozen in shock, refusing to believe what I’m seeing. It can’t take more than five seconds before she’s inside the SUV—then there’s a man rushing me, clamping a cloth over my face. I know the smell. Lucas did the same thing to me when he took me from the restaurant. It’s sweet.
How the fuck is this happening all over again?
Something snaps inside my head. No, no, this isn’t happening. Not to me. Not to my baby.
Every self-defense lesson Dad ever taught me comes rushing back. I can’t breathe in if I want to stay conscious, so I hold my breath while stomping a foot against his instep with all my might. He grunts in pain but doesn’t release me. In my frenzy, I reach out, sinking my nails into any flesh I can touch, then I drive an elbow into his ribs.
“You bitch,” he growls before slamming me headfirst into the trunk of my car. Everything goes dark and foggy. My body slumps when I lose control of it, and I can’t help but breathe in.
My baby. My baby…
I don’t lose consciousness, though. Not completely. It’s more like being sedated; my brain still works. I hear everything, but I can’t make my body move. I’m floating in a dream-like state, but this is all very real. A living nightmare.
“Get moving,” one of the men snarls, shoving me into the car. I can’t open my eyes. My head is pounding.
Tatum’s body slumps against mine, heavy and unconscious. Wake up. Wake up! Her head lolls against my shoulder, and I want to nudge it, except I can’t move. My limbs are useless.
“There wasn’t supposed to be two of them.”
“… be pissed…”
“He’ll like it…”
Who are they talking about? I want to go to sleep. No! Stay awake! I can’t let the baby down. But there’s nothing I can do. I can’t fight if I can’t move.
A sudden, sharp turn after endless driving jostles me out of my daze enough that I feel the SUV slowing down. Tatum moans softly but is still slumped against me by the time we come to a stop.
The doors swing open, and a second later, the one next to me also does. “Don’t forget the pillowcase.” That’s the only warning I get before my head is covered by something that stinks of chemicals. A man wraps an arm around my waist and tosses me onto his shoulder. I feel every step my attacker takes, his shoulder digging into my ribs painfully.
Behind us, Tatum starts muttering indistinctly.
A musty smell tickles my nostrils, accompanied by a metallic scent. Blood. Is Tatum bleeding? Is it me? No, I don’t think I’m bleeding. The smell fades away as we continue to walk, yet the remainder of that scent lingers. Someone is bleeding, or worse, dead.
I’m going to lose it. Once I start to panic—and I’m almost there—that’s it. I might not come back. Remember the baby. The baby. I can’t afford to lose it. I can’t afford to lose my life or Tatum’s. I need to remain strong.
“Leave them on the floor.” I don’t recognize the deep, male voice, but it’s loud enough to cut its way through the frantic haze in my mind. “Why are there two of them? You were only supposed to take the one.”
“She wasn’t alone.” The man carrying me drops me to the floor without warning, sending white-hot pain zipping up my spine when my tailbone lands against something hard. It’s not concrete or flooring. Maybe wood? I can’t help but suck in a gasp before crying out.