Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Told you, locked from the outside.” He still stares straight ahead.
I calculate my chances of stealing his weapon. I don’t know how it’s secured beneath that jacket, but a face full of tacos will at least give me a chance.
“No need,” he mutters, not looking at me again.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Save the tacos. You’re not in danger.”
If that isn’t a lie, I don’t know what is. “Right. You kidnap people for fun.”
He lifts one gargantuan shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“Who are you?” I shift slightly toward him and get ready with the platters.
“Doesn’t matter, and don’t hit me with the tacos.” His voice holds certain threat. “You won’t get out of the car, so why take the chance?”
He’s not wrong. Maybe my best move for an escape is when we stop, but anybody who knows anything knows that you never let a kidnapper take you to a second location. Unfortunately, considering the car is moving, I don’t have much of an option.
“Is your door locked?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I think he’s lying. All right. New plan. I calculate the distance in the small interior of the vehicle. Getting between him and that door is going to be difficult, and the tacos are not hot enough to burn him right now.
The vehicle slows. I stiffen, and cold sweat breaks out on my brow. We roll to a stop. City sounds surround us, so we haven’t reached some remote wooded area where they can bury my body. I try to take comfort from that thought.
I hear the driver’s door open, and then shock of all shock, my door opens. I move to scramble out, but the hulk grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. Bruises instantly rise along my skin.
“Hey, take it easy.” I shove him with the same elbow.
“I told you not to move.”
I’m starting to really hate this guy. “No you didn’t.”
One female leg enters the car, a long foot trapped in a truly glorious Rene Caovilla sparkling pump. It’s odd to find them in pumps and not sandals. A curvy body encased in a classy black Chanel dress then follows, before Lillian Sokolov takes her seat across from me. The dress is a little tight on her. I recognize designer labels because Alana wears them all the time. Sometimes I find one or two at the women’s center, but it isn’t often.
The door shuts again and the lock clicks loudly.
“What is happening?” I blurt out, glaring at Lillian.
Her lips tremble into a smile. “I’m so sorry about this.”
I stare at the owner of one of the four powerful social media and AI companies in the world today. She also happens to be Alexei’s stepmother. She has let her blondish hair slide into gray, and she appears boxier than she did before her youngest son died. Her shoulders hunch as she clasps her hands together.
“This is kidnapping,” I say slowly, making sure she hears every word. “I don’t care who you are or what you own, I will have you arrested.”
She wipes her eyes with one hand, and as she moves, a gorgeous festoon necklace, which has to be from the Victorian period, sparkles across her upper chest. The amethyst and pearls decorating the filigree are stunning. In fact, the jewels sparkle at me just like Alexei’s tattoo from the panther on his neck.
“I know, but I just have to talk to you.” She swallows and wipes away mascara that has pooled on one cheek, crow’s feet digging deep from her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”
“It’s still a kidnapping,” I say boldly, trying to hide the relief that filters through me. “Do you want to explain?”
She sniffs toward my platter of tacos. “Is that what stinks?”
“It could be your bodyguard here.” I jerk my head toward the guy to my right, although truth be told, he smells like a woodsy cologne. Kidnappers should stink. They should have their own specialized smell.
My thoughts zing to Alexei, and then I discount that idea. I quite like the way he smells. “What do you want, Lillian?”
“That’s Mrs. Sokolov to you,” she says, her chin up and wobbling just a little.
“Sorry, but the whole kidnapping thing negates any formality we might’ve had.” I glare.
Her smile softens her face but doesn’t reach her sad eyes. “I like you.”
“I’m losing my temper.” Anger shakes my voice. “Now tell me why you kidnapped me, before I call the police.” It’s a bluff, because my purse is still in my car. I usually forget it, and I have an account at the taco place, so I didn’t need my wallet. I have no phone to use right now.
She stares at me for several moments, her gaze somber, and I try to stay strong. There’s no doubt she’s still grieving from the death of her son. Cal. Her sadness permeates the entire vehicle. Finally, she speaks again as the car winds to wherever we’re going.