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“Stupid bitch,” the man growls, and I glance up to see him twisting around to look at the back of his pants.
I hope I puked all over him. I hope those were his favorite pants. And I hope he never gets the smell out.
He glowers at me, and it doesn’t even matter that he might be considered handsome. He’s a terrible human, so he’s ugly as shit.
“I’m not sorry,” I rasp out.
My throat hurts, and I’m so thirsty, but I still have just enough drugs in my system to help me feel angry instead of scared.
His giant hand wraps around my upper arm, and he jerks me up to standing. “Get walking.”
I spit on the floor as I stagger to my feet, trying to get the nasty taste out of my mouth.
“Disgusting,” the nearly seven-foot-tall man snaps and jerks me forward.
My arm gives a sharp zing of protest since he’s squeezing right where Hans injected that tracker into my arm. But I force my arm to stay lax. I don’t even want to think about what these people will do if they suspect there’s a GPS tracker inside my body.
He drags me to an ornately carved door and shoves it open.
I didn’t have time to appreciate the size of the building from outside, but standing in the entryway, with Evil Andre the Giant at my side, my eyes widen.
This isn’t a house. It’s a freaking palace.
Before us, the hallway stretches impossibly long, with giant two-story living rooms, or whatever they’re called in a place like this, on either side.
It’s impressive. But it’s also gaudy as hell. The floors and walls are all some sort of shiny marble, and the ceilings have so many chandeliers it looks like a lighting showroom for villains.
“Come on,” Andre snaps, dragging me farther into the home.
My feet slip on the smooth floor, and I realize my boots are missing.
I look down.
My shirt is untucked.
Another wave of sickness rolls through me. And I use my free arm to pat at my body.
I’d know if they did something to me, right?
They had to just be checking for weapons. Maybe took my boots off because…
More of my brain fog clears, and it’s replaced by panic.
I have no idea why they’d take my boots.
I need to get out of here. Even if it means running through the desert in socks.
Hans will find me.
He’ll always find me.
I don’t remember Andre locking the front door after we came in. Which is good. I think.
I just need to get away from the man at my side.
Except he’s so much bigger than I am. I’ll never win in a fight.
My chest constricts, and I have to open my mouth to pull in a breath.
