Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Her mouth opens with disbelief, and she slams her hands onto her hips.
“Let’s get a couple of things straight, asshole. First, Wilson is most definitely not my fiancé. He’s my ex-fiancé. EX.” She glares at me. “Secondly, you don’t get to keep people. Especially not me. You’re insane if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”
“Fine.” I lift my arm and aim my gun at Wilson’s forehead. “Have it your way.”
Wilson shrinks back. “Please, don’t shoot me.”
While Brooke—who was so adamant just a few seconds ago—has a quick change in attitude.
“Wait!” she cries. “Don’t hurt him.”
“There are two options here, zayka. You either come with me and your fiancé… sorry, your ex-fiancé… gets to keep his brain intact. Or you say no to me again, and I paint the walls with his gray matter. And let me add a caveat here: the second option will also see you coming with me because I don’t leave behind witnesses.”
She glares at me like she’s willing me to spontaneously combust.
“Why not just kill me too?” she asks. Which, I have to admit, surprises me. Most people don’t dare question me at the best of times, let alone when I have a gun aimed at someone.
“My advice to you is to not question my generosity. The night is still early.”
Her eyes send a thousand daggers my way. She’s not afraid of me. Interesting.
“So what’s it going to be?” I ask.
The seconds tick by slowly. She looks at Wilson, who is quivering in his boots, then back to me with a look of utter confusion on her face. She’s backed into a corner, and she doesn’t know what to do.
I lift my brow. “Well?”
“Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll do it. But only if you promise you won’t hurt either of us.”
I’m not one for reassuring anyone in these kinds of scenarios, but I find myself reassuring her now. “If he gets me my flash drive in the next week, then the both of you will remain unharmed.”
She sends Wilson a pleading look. Please don’t let me down.
But I know men like Wilson. He’d let down the entire world if it saved him a moment of discomfort. I don’t expect him to hold up his end of the bargain because he’s predictably a letdown.
Then why am I doing this when I know the inevitable outcome?
Because as much as I want to deny it to myself, I’m not done with Brooke yet, and I want to explore what that means.
I lower my gun. “So we have a deal?”
Her shoulders soften, and she nods, defeated.
Good.
Then, turning away from the both of us, she runs to the bathroom to vomit.
16
BROOKE
I splash water onto my face in the bathroom and wait for the nausea to pass. Lev appears in the doorway and raises his eyebrow as he scopes the scene—me bent over the sink with water dripping from my face. No doubt he heard me bring up tonight’s dinner.
“Are you unwell?” he asks.
“I’m about to be kidnapped.”
“You are not being kidnapped. You were given a choice.”
“You said either way I’d be leaving with you tonight.”
“Correct. The second scenario would most definitely involve your abduction, but since you chose correctly, this scenario does not.”
I can’t help it. I actually roll my eyes at him. I know I should be afraid of him. Hell, I knew that on the plane. Yet it didn’t stop me from letting him pull down my panties and fuck me constantly for the following twelve hours. And it doesn’t stop me now from letting him know what I think of him and the fact that he used me, when really I should probably just keep quiet.
“You used me.”
“It was a means to an end,” he replies unfazed.
“That makes you an asshole.”
“It’s not the worst thing I’ve been called.”
“Well, good for you. I bet your mom is real proud.”
“I doubt it. She’s dead.”
Damn. Why does that make me feel bad? I mean, hello, we’re in the middle of a kidnapping here.
“We’re leaving,” he says curtly.
“I need to get dressed.”
His gaze sweeps over my barely clothed body. “We’re on a tight schedule, Miss Masters.”
“But I need to pack some belongings—”
“You’re not leaving on holiday,” he reminds me, and a cold shiver snakes its way down my spine.
It suddenly occurs to me that if Lev is in here with me, then he’s left Wilson alone in the living room. Hope blooms in my chest. Hopefully, he’s called the police, and they’re getting ready to storm this apartment as we speak.
But when I follow Lev back into the living room, it’s empty.
Oh God, he’s killed him.
I scan the room, looking for Wilson’s body.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“If he’s smart, then he’s gone to get my flash drive.”
My eyes dart to Lev. “He left?”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any more let down by Wilson, a new wave of disappointment crashes into me. He just left me here with this psychopath to do God-knows-what to me.