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“Yeah.” No matter how scared I was, my need to scrub the filth off me was stronger. The promise of taking a shower was just too damn good for my fear to keep me from following her.

As I reached the door, I hesitated for a moment. I leaned forward, glancing down the unfamiliar hall. Dark wooden floors flanked with cool-gray walls led to what seemed like a kitchen at the end, part of the kitchen table and cabinets visible from where I stood. I couldn’t see more than that, only that there were two more doors between the room where I was and the kitchen.

“Over here.” Neon drew my attention, standing beside the door across the hall. “The bathroom’s in here.”

I stilled. Uncertainty was knocking at the back of my skull.

Neon rolled her eyes. “Get your bony ass over here before I change my mind. Besides, the crew should be back any minute. If Granite knew I let you out of the room, he’d cut my goddamn tongue out.”

I frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You’ve seen the man. You tell me whether I’m kidding or not.” She crossed her arms, pursing her lips. “I’m going to count to—”

“I’m coming.” I hauled ass across the wooden floors and literally stumbled over my own two feet, almost falling my way into the bathroom.

“You know,” Neon started, “for a ballerina, you sure are uncoordinated.”

I glowered her way. “Being kidnapped can do that to a person.”

“Ha,” she winked at me, “funny. Now, hurry up. You have two minutes. I’ll go see if I can find you something clean to wear.” Her gaze swept over me from top to bottom. “You’re a what, size nine to ten-year-old?”

“Funny.”

“Hurry your ass up, Swan Lagoon.”

“It’s Swan Lake.”

“Don’t care.” She closed the door.

A few seconds passed, and I just stood there, glancing from one side to the other. Everything seemed so…clean. With dark and light tones of gray, a corner tub, and double shower, the bathroom didn’t seem like it was used by a bunch of barbaric motorcycle grease junkies.

I turned and spotted a toothbrush, still sealed in its packaging, on the sink. Alongside it, toothpaste, a bottle of shampoo, and a bar of soap. Was Neon trying to be nice, or was this the part where they groomed the live offering right before they slaughtered it in the name of Satan?

I checked the door, but there was no key. Of course, there wasn’t. And I didn’t hear the lock turn when Neon closed the door. Did that mean it was still open?

Slowly, softly, I moved forward. My heart raced, my mind about to explode with a hundred different things I’d do if the door wasn’t locked—the best option being to run as fast I could.

My hand shook as I reached out, gently placing my palm on the doorknob. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck, my legs ready to run. I swallowed then slowly turned the knob. When the door clicked open, my heart stopped.

What the fuck do I do now?

In which direction do I run?

Do I run to the kitchen, or away from the kitchen?

Jesus.

I pulled the door open, ready to sprint, only to look right into Neon’s face.

“Seriously, Swan Lake. You’re seriously going to try to make a run for it when there’s an entire bar filled with mean-ass motherfuckers who would break you in half just by looking at you?”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth and throat instantly went dry. “I, ah…I’m not—”

She shoved a bundle of clothing into my chest. “Take a damn shower and quit fucking around. Your two minutes just slipped down to thirty seconds.” She placed her hands on either side of the doorframe. “I’ll wait right here.”

I clutched the clothing tighter. “You’re going to watch me take a shower?”

“Yup.” She didn’t even blink.


Tags: Bella J. American Street Kings Dark