Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
She left me behind for Albert to do with as he pleased, and she disappeared. Things with him weren’t horrible. He expected me to cook and clean. He’s got a mouth on him. He says awful stuff to me sometimes, but he’s never once laid a hand on me.
As stepparents go, I always figured I could have it worse. Until the day I realized he was selling me through his loan shark. Seems good ole Curtis doesn’t just loan money to desperate gamblers. He also has a side business selling young women to wealthy bidders. That’s when I realized I had to get out.
After my neighborhood, I jog to the local bus stop that’s covered in graffiti. I’m breathing hard but I make it just as the lumbering vehicle slows to a halt.
Clutching the knife in my pocket tighter, I hurry onto it. Public transport in the middle of the night probably isn’t the smartest idea but it’s not like I have other options. Right now, I only have one plan: get to Colt Winters. After that, I’ll figure out what comes next.
Colt
The days start too damn early when you live on a ranch. Or maybe it just seems that way because I don’t get much sleep. I haven’t in over eight years, and I know from experience the nightmares are worse in spring. I could pray that they get better, but I doubt anyone up there is listening to me anyway.
If I didn’t have plans to meet with an old Ranger buddy of mine today, I’d throw myself into my work. That’s one of the things I love about the little rundown place I purchased a few months ago. There’s always something to do and keeping my hands busy is the only way I know to survive.
Stepping into Ernie’s Diner, I’m immediately greeted with the scent of bacon and syrup. An old Patsy Cline song drones from the aging jukebox. The record is skipping, so she just keeps repeating the same line.
I scan the place before I make a move. If there’s one thing my time on recon missions taught me, it was to observe my environment, even in the middle of my beloved hometown. I’ve already clocked the entrances and exits here more times than I can count so my eyes flick quickly over them.
The old timers are up and gathered at the counter where they’re sitting on vinyl stools. They’re trading gossip like it’s currency while they wait for the same food that the town doctor is surely telling them to avoid if they want to keep their cholesterol in check.
One thing doesn’t belong.
Instantly, I’m on alert. My breathing picks up as my heart races. I scan the group at the stools again and this time, I spot what’s out of place. A young woman with a long, blonde ponytail wearing a ballcap. Her shoulders are hunched and she’s looking over a menu. Her plump, pink lips move as she reads, and I have a nearly overwhelming urge to taste them.
My cock jerks to attention when she shifts slightly in her seat, adjusting her ample hips in an effort to get comfortable on the cracked vinyl. It’s been years since he’s gotten anything but my hand. It’s been years since I’ve felt anything at all when looking at a woman. I assumed that part of me died eight years ago.
The bell above the door rings, breaking me out of my trance. I shake my head to dislodge the possessive urge rolling through me. I can’t explain why but I want that woman. I want her writhing under me in my bed. I want her screaming my name and clawing at my back. Fuck, I want to wear her scratches like a badge of honor.
I take a seat at the corner booth, in a spot where I can keep my back to the wall. Years of training have drilled situational awareness into me and it’s not something that goes away when you retire from the Army.
Once I’ve taken my seat, I pretend to scan a sticky menu. But what I’m really doing is silently willing that blonde beauty to turn around. I want to know what shade her eyes are and if her cheeks are just as round as I imagine.
Brody arrives before she turns around and takes a seat across from me. Like me, he’s big and his bulky frame blocks my view. I start to tell him to move then decide against it. She’s probably just some tourist passing through. She’ll be gone within a day, and I’ll never see her again. The thought has me gripping the edge of the worn table and grinding my teeth together.
She can’t leave. She belongs here. The thoughts aren’t rational and for someone who spent years gathering intel before acting, it doesn’t make any sense.