Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I'm not insane. I know how dangerous it is to be in a place like this. I have no business here, and I'm well aware of that, but I want to know what happened to Alena. I need to know that she's safe, and if she's not, then I need to figure out a way to help her.
Surprisingly, there's no doorknob on the door, only a sheet of steel covering the outside, a way of preventing anyone from being able to pick the lock. It should be enough to make me turn around and haul ass back to my car, but either determination or stupidity prevents it. If this ends terribly, I don't know that distinguishing between the two will even matter.
I pull in a deep breath as I raise my hand to knock, but fear makes me come to my senses, and I quickly turn away and head back to my car.
I'm only a handful of feet away from the door when it swings open.
"Can I help you?" a man asks at my back.
My initial instinct tells me to run, but the Texas transplant to Vegas southern hospitality reacts first, making me turn to face the man with a smile on my face.
He's massive, like the guy a movie producer would hire to play Goliath, and my hands immediately begin to tremble.
"Can I help you?" he repeats, his voice more of a growl than actual words, but there's something in the tone of it that just gets on my last damn nerve.
"Do you always talk to people like that?" I snap and stand as tall as my frame will allow.
A slow, twisted smile tugs up the corners of his mouth, but it looks more like a sneer than a grin, and that crawls all over me as well.
My hands turn into fists as I fully face him. I know there will come a time when I'll reflect back on this and know I should've taken a different tack, but now isn't the time for reflection and consideration.
"Are you looking for work?"
I allow my eyes to sweep over him. He's in dark navy work pants and a vertically striped shirt with a business patch on the right breast that reads A-1 JANITORIAL.
I'm reconsidering my argument about my insanity because I let my hands relax at my sides and dip my head.
"I am," I tell him. "I have many years of cleaning experience."
His eyes dip lower on my body as his smile widens. "I bet you do. You're American?"
"Y-yes," I say, wondering if that would disqualify me from getting inside and poking around in an effort to determine what happened to Alena. Maybe she just no longer works for the janitorial service. Maybe this isn't as nefarious a situation as my gut was trying to warn me that it was.
"Come on in," he says, stepping fully outside and holding the heavy door open for me. "I'm sure Dima has time for an interview."
"Well," I say, trying to delay going into the building. "I may need to schedule it at a different time."
I can't see anything on the inside other than a dark tunnel, and it leaves me with a heavy feeling in my gut.
"Very well," he says, his accent thick as he steps partially back inside.
"How long will it take?" I ask, knowing I'll never get another chance. I doubt this man would open the door for me a second time.
"Not long," he assures me. "You look well qualified."
Every warning bell in my head is ringing, the sound almost loud enough for me to clap my hands over my ears to ease the sound, but instead of letting my gut lead me, I tell myself not to be a baby and take a step forward.
"Thank you," I tell him when he holds the door open for me.
Cool air washes over me, instant relief from the heat radiating outside, but then the door snaps closed, covering us in the darkness that I know seems worse after being outside in the sunlight.
A red glow is all that lights up the inside, and my skin immediately begins to crawl. I look over my shoulder, taking note of the EXIT sign above the door he just closed. Somehow that makes me feel a little better, as if the building being up to code in that respect means the business inside is completely legit.
"Dima is this way," the massive man says as he shuffles past me. I take note that he made every effort to get around me in the narrow hallway without touching me, and it's another token in his favor.
Stupidly, I follow the man, wondering when it would be a good time to ask him about Alena, but somehow the stars align with his next words.
"How did you hear about A-1 Janitorial?"
"Alena told me about it. She assured me I'd make more money here than at my current job."