Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“If you cared about what I wanted, you’d let me go. And you wouldn’t even think about calling your friend and prying into my past. It’s none of your business.”
I walk up the stairs. “I’d never hurt you, Evie. I’m on your side.”
“Why don’t I believe you, huh?” she says with a hand on her hip.
Back in the garage, I close the trapdoor and move my car so it’s covering the exit.
I close my eyes, take a moment, a breath. She can pretend I’m the bad guy, but if I hadn’t been there earlier, those monsters would’ve taken her. Or she would’ve fought them and that jackass – Mason– would’ve used that knife on her.
Opening my eyes, I call Rafe. It’s time for answers.
CHAPTER 4
EVIE
This must be the most luxurious prison anybody has ever been confined to. It’s a five-room apartment with faux-windows which show scenic nature scenes on a loop, snowy mountains dissolving into desert, and then tropical jungle. The lights are warm and feel like sunlight, and there are plenty of plants to give the space an alive feel.
The kitchen is modern and well-equipped; the cupboards filled with tins and dried goods; the freezer is full of meat and TV dinners. I fill a bowl of water for Meatball, then crack a tin of tuna and set it next to it.
The apartment – no, the prison – has a bedroom, a gym, a study, an open plan living room/kitchen, and an enormous bathroom with a tub and a waterfall shower.
I sit on the couch, turn on the TV and switch it to a news channel. Nothing about the standoff in Echo Park.
Meatball finishes his tuna and leaps onto the coffee table, tilting his head. He whines. He wants his litter tray.
I go into the bedroom and grab a blanket, then fold it up in the bathroom’s corner. “This is going to be gross for a while, boy, but it’s the best I can do. Don’t worry. We won’t be here for long. I’ll find a way out.”
He glares at me.
“Don’t look at me like that. Just because he saved me, it doesn’t mean I have to be grateful. How many freaking times did I have to tell him to drop me at Glendale?” Meatball purrs as if questioning me. “Sure, I don’t know what I would’ve done after that. What I would’ve done if they’d gone after Tash. But none of that makes this okay.”
In the closet, there are clean clothes in various sizes. It seems this place was designed for a long stay in case of an attack or a natural disaster. With nothing else to do, I strip naked and hop in the shower.
The water pressure is better than my cruddy apartment’s, and the towel feels like heaven, but I don’t let myself enjoy it. I quickly dry off and change into a simple T-shirt and shorts combo.
I’m full of energy, pacing, Meatball propped on the back of the couch, watching me.
“Seriously, you need to stop looking at me like that.”
I haven’t lost my mind. Or, if talking to my cat is a sign that I’m a little cray cray, it’s nothing new. Talking to Meatball is like therapy.
“I didn’t like when he carried me down the stairs. I only wrapped my arms around him because I didn’t want to fall.”
Meatball tilts his head.
Ugh.
Maybe a teensy part of me liked it, a forbidden piece of me I can’t allow myself to acknowledge.
With nothing else to do, I sit on the couch and stare at the TV, conserving my energy for when it’s time to escape.
Three hours later, I hear a mechanical noise from the top of the staircase, followed by footsteps. Dom walks into the living room with a large bag. He places it down. “Litter tray – cat food. And some supplies.”
I stand, offering him a fake bow. “Thank you, my gracious lord.”
I need to get him away from the staircase. I didn’t hear the trapdoor buzz closed behind him, which means it might be open… What if he hasn’t locked the garage door either? Maybe he thinks that now he’s got me down here, I’m going to play nice.
Annoyingly, Meatball approaches him, purring and arching his back. Dom leans down and strokes him.
“Friendly cat.”
Not usually, no. It took him several days to go anywhere near Tasha, and we live in the same apartment. I don’t tell Dom this.
Dom walks into the room. He’s changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants, both pieces of clothing hugging his muscular frame more than his business attire did. He showered too, washing the flecks of blood from his face.
“So, Mason is your mother’s ex-boyfriend. You were working with The Vultures. After your mother passed away – and I’m sorry to hear that, Evie, truthfully – you didn’t want to work with The Vultures anymore. You ran, and they’ve been hunting you down ever since.”