Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
I tried moving, but my whole body felt weighted down, though there was nothing hindering me. There were no bands around my limbs; it was just my body’s natural response to whatever I had been injected with.
Then I remembered what I had done, and fear crippled me. If they ever learn what I had done my life will be over. I rolled over just in time to prevent myself from choking on my own vomit. There was a bucket waiting next to the bed for some reason, which was a good thing anyway.
There was no one in the room with me; at least, I didn’t think so, but I still didn’t know where I was or what was going on. Where the hell is that snake? That new worry had me tensing up until my stomach hurt even worse, and I had to breathe through my teeth to fight the sudden nausea.
“Is anyone there? Where am I?” A camera flash went off, almost blinding me. “Who’s there? Why are you taking my picture?”
“Facial recognition. I’m using it to find out what else you have done and how many aliases you have.”
“What? Why? Who are you?”
“What? I think you heard me the first time. Why? Because thanks to you, we’ll be able to take down at least a third of the organization you work for stateside, and who we are is none of your concern.”
Facial recognition? My palms started to sweat, and if I could, I would’ve run out of there. I can’t be found out. I’ll either spend the rest of my life in prison or be dead five minutes after it happened. “Please, let’s talk about this. You’re putting a target on my back. I gave you what you wanted.”
How the hell did they know I was working for someone? How much do they know, and how did they find me? I needed to think and think fast because the longer I was gone from the apartment, the more danger I was in.
Where’s my phone? Does it even matter? What exactly are they looking for? Which job am I being nabbed for? It can’t be the thing with Mark Wilson; he was just a money mark. There’s no way that anyone could know the real reason behind me being here.
Was someone else watching us? Or is it just this one job? No, he said they were using facial recognition to find my other crimes. Something isn’t right. What had blown my cover? I had things in place to detect listening and recording devices in my apartment, so it couldn’t have been done there. Where else have I spent any amount of time or said things that could give me away?
I spoke only through text when I was out of the apartment so no one, even if they were watching and listening, would’ve known about Jack and me. Had someone followed me here from my last job? Every story I ever heard about the things that are done to child traffickers in jail came to mind.
“Don’t worry. You’re not going to die, not yet, anyway. We’re going to get as much information out of you as we can, and then we’ll decide what to do with you. I’m only telling you this so you can relax and prepare for what’s ahead and stop asking me stupid ass questions.”
“I think you have the wrong person. I’m a Junior executive at….”
“You’re Samantha Stone. Twenty-seven years old from Branford, Connecticut. You sold your first victim at sixteen. You wanted to fit in with the wealthier kids at the private school your parents scrimped and saved at to give you a better life, so you got in with a trafficking ring.”
“No one would expect the bubbly blonde with the infectious laugh and fun personality to be a cold, heartless bitch who would betray her friends to make money.”
“How did you…?”
“It’s a shame that your parents are going to suffer because of your doings.”
“What do you mean? What are you going to do?”
“Expose you, of course. As soon as we find all the victims you sold.”
“You can’t do that; they’ll kill me. You just said…”
“I didn’t lie. I told you we’d keep you alive until we had all the information. While we were talking, I got the update. We know everything you’ve done in the last eleven years.”
My life is over. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t let my parents know any of this; it would destroy them. They think I’m an international broker with an elite clientele that I had to sign an NDA to work for. That was the only way I knew of to keep them from asking about my career.
Of course, I couldn’t tell them the truth. If that should happen, I would have no face left. The rich neighborhood I grew up in and where my parents still live will surely shun them, and I will definitely lose their love and support, which is all I ever wanted.