Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
His breath is hot against my ear. “You could’ve had me, Aubree,” he mutters, voice raw with desperation. “We could’ve been happy. But you never gave me a chance.”
I grit my teeth, tears stinging my eyes at the pain in my wrenched shoulder. “You’re hurting me!” I manage, trying to dig my nails into the arm that’s pinning me.
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he lurches us toward the back, where the kitchen lies. A million thoughts tumble through my mind—my mother, Boone, the helplessness of it all. How is this happening?
I bite my lip hard, trying not to scream in panic. If I can just get him to relax his grip for a second, I might slip free.
But Earl’s bigger, stronger, and clearly unhinged. Before I know it, he’s pulling something from his pocket—a coil of thick rope. My stomach drops. “No—don’t—” I start, heart thudding wildly.
“Shut up,” he hisses, forcing me to the floor. My knee hits the tile hard, sending a jolt of pain up my leg. He uses his weight to press me down, and I thrash, but it’s no use. The rope snakes around my wrists, pinching the skin.
Terror floods every inch of me, my mind screaming at me to fight. I twist my head, trying to catch a glimpse of the exit, but he’s half on top of me, pressing his forearm into my back. If I were calmer, I might recall the self-defense lessons Boone taught me, but right now, I’m choking on pure panic.
Within moments, Earl has my wrists bound, my ankles too, and I can’t do more than squirm. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I blink it away, chest heaving.
Earl shoves me onto my side, face twisted with triumph. “You see?” he says, voice low. “You could’ve made this easier, but you forced my hand.” He stands, glaring at me like he’s deciding what to do next. “I can’t leave you here now. You’ll just call the cops, call that damn security company. No, we’re going somewhere. Just you and me.”
I shake my head violently, tears burning hot behind my eyelids. My voice catches in my throat, coming out as a ragged plea. “Earl, please… you don’t have to do this.”
He lifts me by my bound arms, ignoring my cry of pain, and starts dragging me through the back exit. I can feel the rough concrete under me as he half-carries, half-drags my body outside. The night air hits my face, but there’s no relief in it, just the stench of garbage from the dumpster and the distant hum of traffic.
“Help!” I try to yell, but he clamps a hand over my mouth so hard my lips grind against my teeth, cutting them. The metallic taste of blood seeps in, and I gag.
“Shut up,” he repeats, breath ragged. “You’re mine now.”
He stumbles with me toward a parked van that I barely register. The back doors are open, the interior dark. He hoists me onto the floor, and I land with a sickening thud. My vision blurs, spots dancing at the edges, and I hear the slam of the doors behind me.
The engine roars to life. My heart pounds in my ears so loud I can hardly breathe. I wriggle, trying to find any give in the ropes, but he’s bound me tight. Above my panicked gasps, I hear Earl mumbling to himself, something about “finding a place where no one can stop us.”
No. This can’t be real. My mother is at home. Boone is away in Saint Pierce, not even answering his phone regularly. And I’m here, kidnapped by a man I thought was a harmless regular—a man who’s been behind the threats all along.
The van lurches forward, and I tumble onto my side, tears streaming down my cheeks. My mind screams Boone’s name, but my lips are too dry, too swollen. I can’t cry for help. I can’t fight. All I can do is stare at the dusty floor of the van and pray someone figures out what happened.
Because right now, I’m alone. Completely at Earl’s mercy. And I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
Chapter 31
Boone
I swing my truck into the parking spot across the street from Slice Slice Baby, my heart thumping with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. It’s late, and the moon hangs heavy in the sky. My mind buzzes with excitement—I’ve been waiting for this moment for days, planning how I’d surprise Aubree.
I can practically picture her wide-eyed gasp, the way her soft lips will part in a smile when she sees me. I’ll walk in, she’ll be behind the counter, maybe messing with dough, or closing up shop. I’ll give her that cocky grin and say, “Sorry, ma’am, but is there a special on surprising the girl you love?” She’ll laugh, her cheeks turning that faint pink I’ve come to crave seeing.