Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I feel sick.
Like I’m actually going to vomit.
My phone buzzes with a message. It’s Treyton.
T – Unlock the bus. We are there in five minutes. Don’t worry about security. I’ll deal with them.
What the hell?
I hear a piercing scream and my head whips around, so do the two men standing by my bus. The scream continues and my heart pounds in my chest.
“Scarlett, get in the bus!”
I do as I’m instructed, getting into the bus.
“Lock the door, don’t unlock it until we come back.”
The screaming continues, and the two men meant to be watching me sprint toward the sound. I can’t bear to think of what Treyton might have come up with to get someone to scream like that. Either way, they’re gone, maybe only for minutes, but they’re gone. I get back out of the bus and see Trey coming in with three men, massive bags in their hands that look so heavy, I can’t even begin to imagine how many drugs they’re smuggling in.
“Open it, now,” Treyton barks.
I do as he asks, opening the storage compartment with trembling fingers, eyes darting around. I feel like I’m going to keel over and vomit, but I hold it together, keeping strong. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. Everything will work out. I start panting and my fingers tremble.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Treyton barks. “We have minutes before those security guards get back.”
I unlock the storage compartment and they shove the bags in, there are at least eight bags, and they’re all bulging they’re that full. Not good. If I get caught with this, I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison. What the hell am I thinking? Amalie. My family. Friends. Loved ones. That’s what I’m thinking. It’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
“Lock it,” Treyton orders.
I do as he asks, locking it. Treyton turns to me. “You say a word, breathe a fuckin’ word, I will make you wish you were never born. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be fuckin’ praying for death. Keep your shit together, close your mouth, and we’ll not have a problem. We clear?”
I nod, trying to fight back the tears.
“Don’t act suspicious.”
“W-w-w-what if I get caught?”
He grins, wicked and feral. “Well, I figure you’ll look fuckin’ great in an orange jump suit. Stay cool, sweetheart.”
With that, he disappears.
My knees begin to wobble, and I start sweating profusely.
“Scarlett!”
Security.
I rush around the side of the bus, no doubt looking like I’m about to lose my lunch.
“Why are you outside of the bus?”
Shit.
“I ... I heard the screaming and freaked out. I was really scared. Is everything okay?”
They study me. No doubt I look scared. They won’t question me. One of them nods. “Disappeared, whatever it was. Probably a girl having an argument with her boyfriend. Nothing violent that we could see. Best you stay in your bus until the show, just to be safe.”
I nod, going into my bus and locking the door.
The second I do, I fall to my knees and I sob.
I just cry and cry.
What the hell am I going to do?
-21-
MAVERICK
Something is wrong.
I know it the moment I see Koda’s face.
He’s staring at me like he’s about to tell me someone I love has died. It’s the same look they gave me when I found out Nerissa was gone. Pity. Like they feel bad for me. Like they don’t know how to act, or what to do.
I don’t fucking like it.
At all.
“Why are you starin’ at me like that, Dakoda?” I growl. “I swear to fuck, you need to speak because my patience today is short fuckin’ lived.”
“Mav ...,” he begins, then looks to Mal.
“Speak up,” Mal orders. “Now, Koda. What happened?”
Koda looks back to me, sighs, runs a hand through his hair and then says in a deep, but regretful voice. “Think you might have been right about her all along.”
“About who?” I demand, fists clenching.
“About Scarlett.”
My blood runs cold and I flinch. What does he mean I’ve been right about her? About what? He’s not making any fucking sense, and my frustration levels rise.
“You’re not makin’ any sense!” I bark. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“Saw her today, was watchin’ like you asked. She was jittery, fuckin’ nervous, on that bus alone. Took me hours to find out where she was. The rest of her team were at the stadium.”
“Hurry it up,” I bellow. “What was she doing?”
“Had two security guards with her. Heard this fuckin’ awful scream and they ran off, then Treyton rolled in with some of his men and she unlocked the storage compartment on her bus for them and they loaded it up with bags. Bags that I would guess are filled with drugs. Then they left.”
No.
He’s fuckin’ wrong.
She isn’t helping them.
She wouldn’t help them.
I see red, and I can’t breathe, can’t fuckin’ think. All I can do is stare into the distance, vision blurring. I trusted her. There is no way she’d do this to me. No fucking way. He’s wrong. He has to be fucking wrong.