Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Well, he just needed to believe me. Heck, I believed him. I knew we’d get saved. They loved him. They wouldn’t have left me …
Then why didn’t I remember my innocence? Most girls remembered when they gave away their virginity—or when someone stripped it away from them. Why had I experienced my first period in captivity? Why hadn’t I graduated from high school?
Okay, so maybe his behavior resulted from the following: his family would save him. And another girl. Another little white girl. Ugh. That sounded so racist. Still, it made sense. Six-year-old Jamie might’ve told them about me, my color, and they didn’t care?
Jamie shouldered his backpack. “Get up. Now. Please.”
Alright. At least my backpack fit beneath the stroller seat, so I slunk after him down the street. In no time, we stopped in front of a fenced-off area. The entire block appeared occupied by some sort of distribution center. “Are we stealing a truck?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay?” I lengthened the word, questioningly.
Jamie strode toward a sign and flicked his wrist. Stiff and annoyed. Yep. He was big mad. I read the sign. MacKenzie Freight.
He chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“When my niece Mia—Leith’s daughter—was three, my family had to speak in code words. Say we’re moving organic food after she overheard a conversation about Fruit Loops.”
“Your family has a contract with cereal? Sweet. Let’s eat. I’m more of an Aunt Jamima girl. Although, I liked to stare at the pancake box and imagine Jamima was my auntie. It burned me up inside when they changed the name, though.”
“No food contracts. Someone was speaking in code, said Fruit Loops. Big mistake. I’m surprised how much you like breakfast but hated that fast-food place we went to. Anyway, they move merchandise. The kind that kills.”
I nodded, following him to a keypad. “So back to little Mia. She overheard this talk of Fruit Loops and went Post-al. Get it.”
“I get it. Post cereal. If I’m weird, you’re cheesy.” He keyed in a code.
“Excuse me.” I folded my arms. “I didn’t call you cheesy for the Mission Impossible reference earlier today. Now get back to the story, soldier.”
“Okay, captain.” Jamie stepped ahead of me, the corners of his mouth tugged up like I amused him. He didn’t actually believe I outranked him—not in this world—but it was cute that he played along.
Cute. Dangerous. Torture.
He started talking again, always effortlessly casual. “Mia begged for a field trip. Wanted to come here. Someone saved the day by saying the family business sells organic Fruit Loops. The toddler gagged, rolled her eyes, and left my older—the others to close the deal. Anyway, Mia is a freshman in college now. Graduated a year early.”
The others? Not his brothers? Was this why he became Jamie Mack? To place more distance between him and his brothers?
Jamie’s expression shifted. Warmth drained from his eyes. His shoulders settled into that familiar tension like his very bones remembered things he hadn’t said aloud.
With a confident stride and eyes locked on him, I sauntered past. Slow. Deliberate. Imagining myself in iconic, red-bottomed heels—like a woman who owned every room she entered. In contrast, my eyes conveyed a different narrative. What’s wrong, Jamie? Of course, I didn’t mind asking. This mouth never shut. Even so, something about the set of his jaw told me he’d only share if I didn’t push. At least not directly.
Jamie lifted the stroller over the metal gate track, careful not to disturb Rebel as if the sleeping dog could muffle the storm building between us. I followed him along a small lane, on one side a bare gravel lot. The other side a cinderblock garage.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had questions. “You don’t look comfortable here.”
Jamie didn’t respond at first. Just readjusted the backpack strap, which was confirmation enough.
“You said ‘the others.’ Not your brothers.” How’d I become fiercely loyal to strangers? Ride or die, say what?
“Honest to God, I’m not comfortable here,” he said. “Let’s just get in. Grab a set of wheels. The sooner we’re in and get out, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with Chelomey.”
I sighed. So matter of fact. Always moving. Always mission-first. I wanted to scream. “You think Aleksandr’s still after us?” Yeah. Dumb question. I sighed. “After the day we had, it felt like our home burned down last summer. And I can’t believe he’s back after all this time.”
“I get what you mean.” Jamie approached a door and pulled his backpack from off his shoulder. As he sifted through keys—man, he had a lot of keys—he groaned. “Almost had Chelomey in my crosshairs in Tarzana Hills.” He turned a key into the lock, and it gave a deafening click. “I’ve gotta neutralize that threat for good. Then we get to go home.”
As he held this door open for me, I stared at him. He reached inside and flicked on the lights as if he believed the darkness had prevented my movement. Sorrow laced into my tone. “Our home is gone, Jamie.”