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“Point made. The truth hurts.” I smile. “And so does looking at your face.”
“Keep fucking talking.” He turns around. “It’ll make it fun to choke you on my cock later.”
“Please,” I scoff. “I wear heels bigger than your dick.”
The doors and windows are locked. He controls them. The road is isolated. This psycho thinks he can kidnap me, but I know I’m worth far more alive than dead. And while I’m alive and avoiding heaven for now, I’m going to give him hell.
“I love that you record innocent people having sex. Is thatbecause you’re taking notes for when you finally do it? You were confused about which hole? Don’t worry. With you, they won’t feel a thing.”
He starts raising the partition.
“I promise,” I shout to the rising glass. “One day soon, someone will pity fuck you …over.”
Then I’m left in silence, frantically searching the back of the limo for anything I can use as a weapon, and I tug at my hand, making sure I left enough slack in the cuff to pull it out when I need to.
Wherever Halstead’s taking me? He’s planned it.
This whole night, he had to have planned.
Shit, did I make it too easy? All the pictures of me with Colton in Atlanta at the same restaurant. I’ve been all over social media.
But wait. How did Halstead recognize me? I was disguised in my video with Axel at Halstead’s chalet.
Unless…
Unless at the drop on Meeting Street, when Halstead was waiting at the bus stop … he was secretly clocking me, too. I was sitting in the corner window of the bar. It was like a giant fishbowl, and I guess… I guess I stand out.
Damn, I’ve never cursed my curiosity and flaming hair before.
But maybe that’s it. Maybe Halstead saw me watching him, and somehow he followed me and Axel that night? The night Axel cut Calloway?
I’m not sure, but it’s my best guess.
Either way, even with my hands cuffed, I’m able to double-click the charm on my bracelet. It’s my SOS beacon. Axel will get it.
The only problem is, will he find me before it’s too late?
The isolated roadsHalstead’s taking have highway markers, all of which read ‘East’. I try to stay calm and focus on where we are. Not what he’ll do.
I’m not trapped.
I’ll be okay.
I can always run.
But when Halstead parks the limousine in front of an abandoned one-story roadside Georgia motel, half-eaten by kudzu vines and the perfect place for zombies … or my murder.
I’m not so sure.
The door beside me swings open.
“Ankles.” He tosses leg cuffs at me, the black muzzle of his gun eclipsing his face. “Now.”
“How will I walk?”
“Bitches like you should be dragged.”
“Jeez. Someone’s been trolling the Kardashians.”