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 don't know what that big motherfucker said to her, but whatever it was has clearly left her more shaken than before.
It only took five minutes for Dima to go over the expectations, return policy, and payment, but it might as well have been a lifetime for the terror I see in her eyes.
Thankfully, she doesn't hesitate to place her hand in mine when I hold it out to her.
Neither of us says a word as we leave the warehouse, and even after helping her into the passenger side of the Cerberus SUV, she doesn't speak.
"They're going to be watching us," I mutter as I turn out of the industrial park.
"Please take me home," she whispers, the threat of a sob in her tone.
"I can't," I say as we slow to a stop behind a pickup at the red light. "I need time to figure out the next step."
The last two hours have gone against everything I promised Kincaid back in New Mexico. We were selected for this position because we had the ability to think shit through, and here I am, seventy-two hours in the city and married to a woman I don't know, while also putting myself and my real name on the radar of a criminal organization. If there were more ways to fuck this all up, I probably would've done it by now as well.
"It isn't real," she whispers, trying to dash tears away with the back of her hand.
"It's very real," I argue. "The danger, the threat to Morgan. Is that a sister? Your mom?"
I don't know how I expect her to respond, but utter silence isn't it.
I know she has to be traumatized. I know I have some very hard questions to ask her, namely how long has she been there and what has happened to her since arriving. Also, how in the world did she end up inside the warehouse? Did they abduct her after catching her snooping around?
"I'll take you to a hospital. I don't think it's too far-fetched for them to think I'd want you tested for STDs before our wedding night."
"There will be no wedding night," she snaps. “I don't need a hospital."
"The hospital is for a check-up. What have they done to you?"
I watch her throat swallow, ignoring the person behind me laying on their horn because I'm sitting still at a green light.
"They didn't hurt me," she says, refusing to look me in the eye.
I don't know enough about her to believe her or not. I know a lot of women who have been victimized refuse to admit to it, especially to a man.
Cerberus New Mexico has several women on their team to help with situations like this. The women are badasses in their own right but they're also more likely to get another woman to talk about their experiences rather than the same gender who hurt them.
This chapter here in Las Vegas doesn't have someone like that.
"Tell me what you need," I say as I look away and begin driving again.
"I need to turn back the clock a full day, no, make that a couple of years. I never should've come to Vegas."
"Why did you move here?" I ask, wondering if she has dreams of being a poker-winning millionaire or if she wants to be on a stage performing every night.
She doesn't answer, and I'm in no position to demand anything from her.
"Are you a cop?"
I don't know exactly how to answer that, so I choose the absolute truth.
"I'm not a cop."
"FBI? CIA? Anything?"
"I don't work for the government, at least not anymore."
"Former CIA?"
I shake my head. "I was in the Marine Corps."
I look at her briefly, catching the frown on her face. Since when did people start finding military service so distasteful?
"So you're a wannabe hero with a savior complex?"
"Is that what you think of military men and women?"
"That's what I think about a creep who sees me at the grocery store one night and purchases me the two days later," she mutters, her tears beginning to subside as she lets anger take over.
I wanted the crying to stop, but I don't know if the anger directed at me is any better.
"I followed you the other night," I confess, earning a scoff from her.
"Something you do often?"
"I can't get into what I do for a living. It's... classified."
I feel her eyes burning into the side of my head, but I don't look at her. I know how crazy this sounds, but is anything at this point too far-fetched? One day, she was a cashier at a grocery store and the next, she was being sold and married off to a man she doesn't know. This entire situation is off the wall fucking nuts and I never would've suspected I'd be here when I stepped off that damn plane the other day.