Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
I have to get away from him. I have to find a way to get far enough away and get on a plane back to California. …But he has my license. My purse. My passport. My credit cards. My everything. I have nothing but these clothes that don’t belong to me on my back. I have a cot, and a career that is fading away by the second. I have no guarantee that he’ll really let me leave after this is over. In fact, I know he’s not… he doesn’t trust the media at all, so why would he trust me to complete his task, keep my mouth closed, and go on about life as if none of this ever happened?
Chasity… That’s why…
She chewed on the slimy thoughts, salty ideas, and tough worries as Ro James’ ‘Already Knew’ played.
…He detests the media, the press. I already established that. He likes cigars, expensive cologne, and fast cars. That means he’s money driven and likes the finer things in life. Yes, that can be exploited, seen as a weakness if used the right way. Let’s see, he’s into his grooming for sure… He keeps his hair cut to perfection, he’s well-dressed but not too flashy. He likes R&B, Jazz, Rock, and Rap music… He’s strong. Ill-tempered. Has an axe to grind against this Bannon person, but I know he hasn’t told me completely as to why. Something is missing… I feel like he comes from a bad background, messed up childhood… doesn’t seem like a little rich boy trying to look or appear bad—this shit is genuine, and I feel like his riches are new. He doesn’t have many friends, on purpose… no wedding ring… Doesn’t respect women… Sees us as inferior. Probably stems from a bad relationship with his mother. His father was either not in his life at all, or died when he was a kid. He had to practically raise himself.
I am making a profile of this man in my mind. Just like the FBI does… I have to find the cracks and hot buttons within him. I have to dig inside of him and find the key to get out of this shit! I don’t want to do what he’s asking me to do, and yet, I have to be careful about angering him again. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead, but if I push him too far, he could turn on me. I saw it in his eyes. He is soulless… Just like I said a long time ago, and just like he said tonight, it would be no issue for him to end my life, but he believes he can use me. Use my eye, my art, my skills to tell a story… a story he can’t tell…
“I’m hungry.” She crossed her legs and squeezed. Her stomach was rumbling once again.
“We’re not far from my house. I’ll get you some food.”
“Do I still get to sleep in a real bed, in an actual bedroom tonight?”
“Yes. Why? You thought I was going to punish you because I’m sick of your shit? Don’t answer that… just be quiet. I want to listen to my music without you interrupting me.” He plucked his cigar from the ashtray and took a drag.
“Can I have a smoke?”
He shot her a look from the corner of his eye, then placed it to her lips. She wrapped her mouth around it, inhaled, then exhaled. A curl of smoke filled the car as his stereo played ‘Thug Love,’ by Pleasure P. A sense of warmth came over her…
He keeps playing sexy songs, and I can tell as he mouths the lyrics, he knows and loves this music. He’s not putting on airs. Violent freak of nature… but loves love songs. Wow… He’s arbitrary and hard to figure out. An intelligent, sexy monster… A demon. A thug, just like the song says… Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?
The Outlawz’ ‘Born Sinners,’ featuring Scarface, boomed from the speakers in an all-black room with white trim on the baseboards. The room smelled like cinnamon, perfume, patchouli incense and something she couldn’t quite describe. He stood at the doorway, removing her cuffs for the second time since they’d been at his home. She ran her fingertips gingerly along her skin, dragging them slowly as she looked around the strange place.
A Queen-sized bed covered in black and white sheets called to her. The pillows looked inviting and yet, she wished she could click her shoes and be home. As soon as they arrived, he removed her handcuffs, handed her back her phone, and had her make several text messages to keep her loved ones and employer at bay. He told her what to type and how to type it, and it was obvious he’d reviewed her writing habits and wording, for he almost had her way of speech down pat. He’s been studying me, like I’ve been studying him. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. Showing skin. Humor. Seducing… nothing is working to break him down. She flirted with losing hope.