Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Their hookups have been going on a few weeks now. Soon she plans to bite off his dick or whack him over the head or rip out his throat. Whatever it takes to incapacitate him and get away.
But apparently she didn’t even meet up with him tonight. So after he unlocked the stall door—which can only be done from the control booth near the barn’s main entrance—she must have found an opportunity to slip away. And if a bloviating prick like Bravo can’t conceal the panic in his voice, then he must be fucking terrified.
Good.
I listen in the dark, trying to hear what’s going on outside. Are the guards going from stall to stall, searching for her? If so, they’re being quiet about it.
Sliding out of bed, I tiptoe to the door and peer through the small window. This building used to be a horse barn, and the original layout is mostly still intact. A wide aisle separates the rows of stalls where the fighters are imprisoned. The stalls all have sliding doors that are solid wood on the lower half, but with narrow bars on the upper half that can swing open independently of the bottom. My stall at the far end of the barn is different; my walls are all wood, not made partially of bars, and my door is just a regular door—as if the space originally served a different purpose than holding a horse. Maybe a tack room, maybe something else. It doesn’t matter. The only purpose this room has now is to lock me up at night.
Lissa’s stall is the same—but she’s not locked up in there. And as far as I can tell, Bravo hasn’t raised the alarm yet.
Probably hoping that he can cover his ass. Maybe thinking that when the questions start, he can pretend not to know how or when she escaped.
Which would give Lissa a six-hour head start before they begin looking for her.
Six hours.
A full-body shiver wracks through me, but it’s not all cold. I am cold. The tight nurse’s uniform that I wear during the day is the only clothing these assholes have given me. So I took a hospital gown from the medical supplies my first week here, but the thin fabric offers little protection against the freezing November air.
I hardly feel the chill, though. Excitement quivers through my tense form, and I strain to hear anything, anything at all.
There’s nothing.
I watch for a few more minutes before slipping back into bed, but I know sleeping again will be impossible. Not while I’m filled with so much hope and anticipation, and mentally sending all my strength and courage to wherever Lissa is right now. Because if she escapes, this nightmare will soon be over.
2
Exactly at six a.m., Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” begins playing on the loudspeakers installed throughout the barn. When my door buzzes open a few seconds later, I’m already dressed and ready to begin my duties. I emerge from my stall sporting a full face of makeup and blown-out hair, along with the ridiculous outfit I’m required to wear, which looks as if it was bought during a Halloween sale. Not because my clothes are scary, but because it has that “adult female costume” look which turns every character into the sexy pinup version.
Since I fulfill the role of nurse around here—making sure the fighters receive proper nutrition and exercise, and monitoring their overall health—I’ve got the corresponding costume. Comfortable scrubs are out, because Papa prefers “women to look like women should.” To him, that means a tight white shirtdress barely long enough to cover my ass cheeks, white thigh-high stockings fastened with suspenders, and black Mary Janes with three-inch heels.
And a smile. I can’t forget to wear my beautiful, womanly smile.
This morning, that smile isn’t as hard to fake. Lissa’s been gone for almost six hours. And although the barn is in the middle of nowhere, she’s left the property often enough that she knows where to go for help and how far away it is. If not for her, I wouldn’t have any clue where we were, because I arrived blindfolded in the back of a van and haven’t gone anywhere since then. But she shared the info with me, drawing a map and making me memorize our location, just in case I was the one to escape. We’ve discussed the best way to reach the nearest highway without being spotted. After that, the plan is to hunker down until a semi-truck drives past. Only a semi-truck, because anyone on a motorcycle or in a car might be heading here to the stables, and we’d be screwed if we flagged down the wrong person. But a trucker is likely just passing through.
If Lissa moved at a quick pace throughout the night, she should be reaching that highway…right about now. That’s what I’m thinking of when Victor meets me outside the door to the doc’s medical office, which means my cheery “Good morning, sir” isn’t as forced as it usually is.