Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Oh, was that all?
Didn’t Jared know he had other things on his mind, right now?
Like what to do about the brat in the basement.
“That doesn’t mean they won’t find him,” he pointed out as he forced himself not to look at the app on his phone.
Was she eating?
This was ridiculous. She’d be fine.
“Are you all right?” Jared asked.
“Yes. Of course, why?”
“You seem . . . distracted,” Jared told him, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin. “Are you ready to tell me what you’re keeping from me?”
Dangerous territory.
Pay attention.
He eyed Jared. “Not yet.”
Christ. She was right. Jared might care that she hadn’t eaten or bathed while in his care.
Jared wasn’t a good man, but he had a soft spot for women.
Especially her.
North didn’t get it.
He had no idea what he’d do if she didn’t start eating and bathing. Could he force-feed her?
Fuck.
Jared really was going to kill him after he found out what he’d done.
What he didn’t realize was that North was a dead man anyway.
“I will check with my contacts,” North told him. “See if they’ve heard anything about Beltran.”
“Good.” Jared said, leaning back in his chair.
“He’s going to know that it’s you and will likely come after you,” North warned.
“We knew that would happen. Are you having cold feet? Do you want me to put protection on you?”
North stared at him coldly. “Of course not. I can protect myself.”
But there was one person who couldn’t. The same person who Jared really wouldn’t want in the firing line.
Fuck.
Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more.
14
Grr.
It was so unsatisfactory to write a million notes calling someone a dickhead, a clown, a boar, a bore, an asshole, asswipe, donkey butt, pig fart, moron, a donkey-arse-pig-farter without any response!
That last insult was a particular favorite.
Angie stared down at her bed which was covered in insults. No reaction. No cold voice over the speakers. No North storming in here to demand she behave. She settled in the corner of the room, holding Theordore and Wallina close to her chest.
Shoot.
Maybe she should hide her toys. What if he came in here in a fit of rage and stole them from her as punishment?
Hmm. She wondered if North had fits of rage.
Urgh. She was so bored! And hungry. She got up and peeked at the tray of food.
Maybe one half of a sandwich wouldn’t hurt. That bastard would never know. She took a bite.
Oh yum.
Before she knew it she was stuffing another piece of sandwich in her mouth. And then some of the berries and chopped up fruit from the bowl.
In a matter of minutes, she’d scarfed the whole lot down and was left feeling queasy and overly full.
The food rose up into her throat and she raced to the bathroom.
Just great.
What was something that could add to the misery that was her life right now?
Throwing up.
After vomiting up everything she’d just eaten, all she wanted was to get into the shower and bathe.
But she’d already given in to one thing, she refused to allow herself to cave on anything else.
Which meant she was going to stink for the rest of her time here.
Her body trembled as she stood and brushed her teeth. While the rest of her might stink, her breath didn’t have to.
As she stepped back into the bedroom and grabbed her toys, the speaker crackled.
Oh.
So he was still there? He hadn’t abandoned her?
“I can see you decided to use this time for something productive,” he said dryly.
Darn it!
Even her insults didn’t affect him? He was definitely a robot. Or maybe he was made of stone.
She held up her finger again.
Childish? Yes.
Did she care? No.
15
North’s body felt alive as he walked through the door and into her basement prison later that evening.
The only time he could ever remember feeling this alive was when he was submitting to Jared.
Or torturing an enemy.
Both were good fun.
As he stepped into the room and set the tray down though, he became aware that something was wrong. He shut the door behind him and heard the click of the lock.
Then he stared around the room.
Where was she?
He heard a noise.
Was that . . . was she throwing up?
Fuck.
He didn’t know how to take care of someone who was vomiting. Why was she vomiting?
Quickly, he checked the tray of food he’d brought in earlier this morning. The food had been eaten. Had it made her ill?
He peered into the bathroom. It was ridiculous to feel this unsure over what to do with a vomiting woman.
Leave her alone.
But what if she died? What if she got dehydrated? Or got dizzy, fell, and hit her head?
Fuck.
He saw her bent over the toilet. Then she reached up and flushed it before stumbling to her feet. She leaned against the bathroom cabinet, staring at herself in the mirror.
Shit.
She gasped, then turned to stare at him, swaying precariously. He fought the urge to leap forward and grab hold of her.