Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
All the signs had been there. She had never shown remorse over the fate of her captives, refused to talk about rescuing them, never veered from her plan to deliver Kate. And Van’s inability to attend the transactions made it all possible.
Camila gave Liv’s hand a squeeze. “Liv gutted my buyer the minute he sent the transaction. I screamed like a maniac, covered head to toe in his blood.” She half-laughed, half-groaned. “When she calmed me down, she told me her story. Her history with Van. Her Mom. Her daughter.” A sad smile touched her lips. “I refused to abandon her, so she let me dispose of the body and gave me an anonymous e-mail address. I sent a phone number there, one that couldn’t be traced to me. A year later, she called. That’s when I met Ricky.”
The man closest to him held out a hand. “Ricky. Slave number two.”
Josh accepted the handshake, awe-struck, his tongue not functioning.
Another guy flicked up three fingers. “Tomas. Number three. Her favorite.”
Someone coughed, “Bullshit.” Then each of the remaining men stepped forward, their names threading around him, pulling him into their huddle. Luke, the only redhead, number four. Martin, who had to drag his eyes from Liv, number five. Tate, huge smile, number six.
A familiar blond head emerged through the wall of men, her hands twisting in the front of her dress. She peered up at the strangers with a shell-shocked expression. “I’m…my name is Kate.” She stared at Liv, her lips parted and eyes wide. “Does this make me number seven?”
Liv moved to her and cupped her face, bending to meet her eyes. “You okay?”
With a jerky swallow, Kate raised her chin and nodded. “I’m still trying to catch up. I…I had no idea. I thought I was going with that man.” Another swallow. “I didn’t expect you to kill him. Have you ever lost a slave?”
A deep inhale billowed Liv’s breasts above the cups of her bra, and a quiver skipped over her arm. “No, Kate. We are all here.”
We. They were all free, yet Liv was still a prisoner.
Liv smoothed Kate’s hair from her face and spoke to her in a low, rushed tone about her mom and daughter, the significance of the other slaves being there to help her, and why she does what she does. The whispered conversation went back and forth for a moment longer, and Liv turned Kate toward Camila. “I trust them with my life, Kate. They’ll protect you with theirs.”
Camila embraced Kate in a hug. “Finally, a girl. And blond?” She glanced at Liv. “Still hunting in the border towns?”
“Until Josh.” Liv moved to the hood of the sedan and picked through the cash, weapons, and phones that had been gathered from the dead men’s pockets. “Kate’s buyer wanted blond and innocent. Took Van a year to find her in the southern slums.” She turned toward Kate. “Your brothers were protective of you, but they’re drug dealers, and they’re involved with some really bad people.”
Kate’s face pinched. “I know.”
“It’ll be fine.” Camila grinned and waved a hand at the men. “You can help me air out the testosterone in our house.”
Josh startled. “You live together?” Were they still considered missing?
Ricky strode around the buyer’s sedan and shoved a lolling arm into the trunk. “We come from broken families and ghettos who wrote us off as runaways.” He slammed the lid shut. “If we return to our hellholes, it might initiate investigations that led to Liv.” He walked back toward the group, eyes on Kate. “You can’t go home.”
She stepped away from Camila’s embrace and rubbed her head. “I…I know.”
Martin pointed a finger at Tate. “You know, that guy threw a fit when we told him he was stuck with us. Look at him now. He’s been trying to fuck me since he moved in.”
Hands laced behind his head, Tate glared at him. “I come into your room at night, because the entire house can hear you shouting Liv’s name while you’re jerking off. You need to get over her, man.”
Martin flipped him off. “Fuck you.” His eyes lit with laughter then shifted back to Liv with unmistakable longing.
Liv’s shoulders squared under Martin’s gaze as she blinked up at Tate. “You look well.” She smiled. “Happier.”
“I am happy, Mis—” He coughed in his fist. “Liv.”
Tate was number six, so he would’ve been her last delivery, which she’d said was eight months earlier. Thick black hair and one of those boxy jaws women love, he smiled like he was posing for a camera, but it was warm and sincere when he regarded Liv. Josh believed she’d never had sex with him, but she knew him intimately. She knew all of their bodies intimately. With her hands. And her mouth.
Jealousy surged through his lungs and tightened his muscles. It was ill-timed and immature, but it couldn’t be helped. His fists clenched, itching to drag her away and pretend that none of this existed.