Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
My pain does not define me.
And I will not succumb.
Moments pass, and I drift in and out of consciousness.
I’ve lost a lot of blood. Will I even make it through this?
I open my eyes.
A light. Bright light, and a tunnel.
Peace is in that light. Peace and tranquility and no more pain. No more humiliation.
Tempting. So tempting—
“Buck!” A harsh whisper.
The light disappears.
Phoenix. His face. It’s blurry, but it’s him.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“How?”
“Friends on the inside. The insurgents have been…detained. We don’t have much time.”
I’m naked, and I make it to my feet.
Only then, through my blurred vision, do I realize that Leif is naked too.
“Clothes?
“Waiting for us. Guards’ clothes.”
“Guards’ clothes?”
I can pass as an Afghan with my dark hair and dark eyes, tanned skin. But Leif? Phoenix? He’s a blond and blue-eyed Scandinavian.
I don’t ask the question. He’ll find a way. The phoenix always rises.
The door to my cell is open, and Phoenix pulls me through it.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Am I okay? What a loaded question. Surely they did as much to Ramsey as they did to me. And I can be as strong as the next person.
“Fine,” I groan, ignoring the pain shooting through my legs, my shoulders, my ass. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
Several guards lie unconscious in a heap in the hallway.
The other prisoners taunt us, but we pay them no mind.
They yell at us in foreign languages, sometimes in English. “Take us with you! Please!”
It hurts me to ignore their pleas, but I have no choice.
I’m on a mission, and the mission comes first.
“Come on. That one looks about your size.” Phoenix gestures to one of the unconscious guards.
“Right.” I get to work, undressing the guard and praying he won’t wake.
I put on his clothing and take everything, including his firearms.
Phoenix does the same.
“Your eyes,” I whisper.
“Already taken care of.” He dons a pair of shades. I have no idea where he got them, and I don’t ask.
More pain lances through me.
But I won’t let any of it stop me.
They will not take me alive.
And they will not get any information out of me.
I held up during the worst torture imaginable.
But I’m not naïve. I know how much more they could do.
We stalk quietly through the pathways toward an open door, brandishing the guards’ weapons.
“We may have to separate,” Phoenix says.
I nod.
“Once we’re out, get to safety. Anywhere. We’ll find each other.”
“The others?” I ask.
“Wolf’s already out.”
Wolf. Bobby Ensign. Big and strong Bobby.
Footsteps advance toward us.
“See you on the outside,” Phoenix turns right, while I go left.
I run straight into—
A freaking insurgent.
I don’t think.
I don’t have time to think.
I shoot him dead with his pal’s gun and hurry on my way.
30
ASPEN
The next morning, we dress for the arraignment.
Both Nancy and Pollack will be arraigned today. I’m not even sure what they’re charging Nancy with.
I wish they’d throw the damned book at her, even though technically she didn’t kill anyone. But she was party to my abduction.
Luke made sure we all had decent clothes to wear.
Buck is dressed in a suit. A dark gray suit, white button-down shirt, blue tie. Polished leather shoes. And my God, he looks like he could be walking a runway.
Does he even have a clue how good-looking he is? What the hell does he see in me?
I’m wearing a navy-blue skirt and a cream-colored blouse. Simple black pumps. Not really my style, but we have to look the part to go to court.
My father’s dressed in a navy-blue suit with a red tie. Katelyn is dressed similarly to me, except that her skirt is a lighter blue and her blouse pink. Luke is in a dark suit. Nearly black. White shirt, green tie.
All looking the part.
We arrive at the courthouse in Luke’s black SUV—the same SUV he took when he went to Gloria’s house.
We use the valet parking, and then we make our way into the courthouse, through electronic screening. Katelyn and I push our purses through the scanner.
We’re not armed. We can’t be armed and come in the courthouse. But security is rampant here—if they can be trusted.
I don’t trust anyone. There’s always someone who can be bought.
Courtroom J.
Another arraignment is taking place, but Pollack and Nancy are next on the docket.
Just as we walk in, the judge pounds her gavel. “Five minute recess.” She rises and leaves her podium.
We find seats close to the prosecution side.
The prosecutor shakes our hands. “Thank you for being here.”
“Just put this man away,” Luke says.
“I’ll do my best.”
A few minutes later, the bailiff says, “All rise.”
We stand.
“Superior Court of Los Angeles is now in session, the Honorable Priscilla Barnes presiding.”
The judge takes her seat. “You may be seated.”
“We have the arraignment of Christopher James Pollack,” she says, “also known as Louis Stanley McCain.”
So that’s his real name. Whatever.
The bailiff brings Pollack in. He’s clad in an orange jumpsuit, and his hair is a scraggly mess. His yellow eyes are swollen and bloodshot.