Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Not here, dude.” The other guy bobbed his pale head toward the corner of the garage.
She followed the gesture and tried not to wince. Cameras. Carajo! Hopefully, when Montilla saw this footage, he would not recognize her. After all, the last time they met she had barely been more than a child, and he’d treated her as if she was beneath his notice, thank God.
The bigger man stepped back and grabbed her arm. “He’s right. Damn it.”
Laila turned and buried her face in the man’s neck and pretended to breathe him in. He smelled like sweat and testosterone. Then she repeated the gesture with the bearded man, who also smelled of cigarettes.
She tried not to choke. “Let us go to the guard shack, then. I am impatient.”
“Good call. Follow me.” The big one dragged her out of the garage, around the corner, then down a narrow alley before the darkened guard shack came into view.
“Wait!” the blond guy protested, lagging behind. “We’re not supposed to leave the garage open. Anyone could come in and steal the car.”
Mr. Wifebeater rolled his eyes. “Who do you think is around to do that? It’s not even five o’clock in the morning. The partiers left a few hours ago, and the business heads won’t be here until after sunup. It’ll be fine for a few minutes.”
“But—”
“She’s wet,” he reminded through gritted teeth. “I’m not giving up good pussy for this shitty-paying temp job. But you feel free to stay.”
“I need you both,” she whined. “Please.”
With a long sigh, the blond guy shook his head and grumbled. “I’m probably going to hell, but fuck it.”
Then he stomped after them.
Victor better move quickly, because Laila doubted she could put these two off for long, and she refused to get naked and spread her legs.
When they reached the guard shack, she held back, pursing her lips and batting her lashes. “Turn on the lights first. I am afraid of the dark.”
At least that much was true.
The big man hustled in and felt around for the switch.
The blond guy looked shocked. “You want the lights on while we fuck you?”
She dragged a finger over the curve of her breast. “Do you not wish to see all of me? I want to see you.”
Despite the fact she nearly choked on the lie, he gave her a bug-eyed head bob and raced into the guard shack, right behind his partner.
She gave them a come-hither smile—then slammed the door, grabbing the flag that proclaimed this the sector twelve security station from its nearby holder. With shaking hands, she shoved the fat pole between the long pull and the door itself, jamming it tight. This wouldn’t hold for more than a minute or two.
Laila hoped that would be enough.
At once, they began beating on the door while glaring out the windows at her.
“What the fuck?”
“Let us out, bitch!”
She didn’t waste time responding, simply hustled away. When they broke the glass and started shooting, she tried to push back her panic, zigzagging to avoid their bullets.
Pings whizzed past her. Laila gasped, her heart racing with fear. The big guy cursed. A glance back proved he’d reached through the open window to dislodge the metal pole. She didn’t stay around to see how long it took them to wriggle it free. She had to find Victor.
Thankfully, when she rounded the corner, she heard the purr of the classic car’s engine. Then the vehicle rolled through the double doors, Victor behind the wheel.
He shot her a triumphant glance, stroking the dashboard. “Get in. Montilla is going to miss the hell out of this car. Too bad for that fucking bastard.”
Yes, and in less than five minutes, the drug lord would know his car had been stolen and by whom—exactly as she’d planned. But she couldn’t attract more of Montilla’s attention herself. She had to hope that the kingpin would write her off as a whore who had merely diverted his security for a good time or a buck.
Suddenly, she heard shouting and the pounding of footsteps. The guards—with their guns—were free.
“Go! I will meet you by the rental truck in five minutes.” Since the guards would undoubtedly chase the car, she stood a better chance of disappearing on foot.
Laila darted into the maze of side buildings, skulking in the shadows until she lost them. Then she found the broken fence she’d entered through and slinked away from the racetrack, sprinting toward the nearby side street where they’d left the rented truck.
And if Victor decided he didn’t need her and left her behind? Well, she would hardly mourn his departure. She had already planted the seed of ambition in his mind. He would go after Montilla until one or both of them were dead.
But when she reached the U-Haul, Victor was there, frantically opening the back. “Get the ramp.”