Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

“I have an idea. Why don’t you go back to sleep or pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to hear your voice? Or better yet, you shut your fuckin’ mouth, or I’ll climb back there and shove something in it.”

Tears burn my eyes and my throat clogs with emotion. I nod and vow to keep quiet for the rest of the trip.

An orange glow draws my attention. I peer through the gap in the front seats. A clock. The numbers ground me—give me something to hold on to. Just like before the fight, I watch the minutes tick away, along with my future. As the minutes stretch by, I make myself sick. Every imaginable horror comes to mind. Jonah doesn’t know where I am. I’m alone with someone who hates me enough that killing me would be kind.

As many times as Jonah has swooped in like an angelic warrior to rescue me, my predicament is impossible. No one will help me now. If I’m going to get out of this, I’m going to have to do it myself.

The car turns. I tilt my head to look out the window from my back seat bed. My view is a wall of pine trees. We’re in the mountains, and from the sound of the creaking suspension and gravel assaulting the wheel wells, on a dirt road. After another twenty minutes, the car slows to a stop.

Vince exits the car, giving me seconds of relief before the back door swings open and he grabs me by my bound ankles. He throws me over his shoulder like a dead animal. It’s completely black outside. Darkness like I’ve never seen having lived in the city my whole life. There’s a source of light ahead that penetrates the night. Vince heads toward it. He walks up a few wooden steps before we go through a door and into the living room of a cabin.

He turns left and I’m airborne. My wrists bound, I’m unable to break my fall and my head slams into something solid. Stabbing pain pierces my skull and I swallow an agony-riddled cry. Warm liquid oozes down my face, pooling in my ear. My vision swirls.

Vince’s footsteps against the wood floor disappear behind me.

I squint against my throbbing head. I’m on a couch with wooden armrests. The smell of an old fire and wet wood permeate the air. I worm my body around and face the direction we came in. Plain wood flooring and log walls are all I see. This place isn’t set up for a long-term guest. More like a place for a weekend hunter. And here I am tied up like prized kill.

A door slams shut, making me jump. My muscles coil tight, every sound amplified. Heavy footfalls sound down the hallway getting louder. Closer.

Please, God. Help me.

Dominick and Vince appear from the mouth of the hallway. Their fine suits and coiffed hair are a morbid contrast to the natural wood of the cabin.

“Raven, darling, I’m sorry about your head. Vince is great muscle, but tends to be a bit brutal.”

Vince smiles and licks his lips.

“As I’m sure you’ve figured out, your boyfriend won, or lost as it was, so now you belong to me.” He kneels and places his lips just inches from my ear. “Between you and me, win or lose, I had no intention of releasing you.”

My eyes burn. I stare at the man before me whose eyes are identical to mine. The man whose blood runs through my veins, and I feel nothing but pure, concentrated hate.

He reaches into his pocket, and with a flick of his wrist, he’s holding a knife. I kick and pull at my restraints. No!

“Calm down.” He sounds bored and not at all impressed by my fight. He points the knife, gently pressing the tip into the soft skin beneath my ear. “You be a good girl now or I will cut you. Do you understand?”

I nod frantically, forcing the tip of the knife farther into my skin. A whimper leaks from my lips. He watches as a trickle of blood makes a trail down my neck.

“So beautiful.” He swipes at the blood with his fingertip and puts it in his mouth. “You are going to make your Daddy a very rich man.”

Every inch of my body shakes in violent bursts. He slides down the couch to my feet and cuts my binds. Then follows with my wrists.

I flex and roll my aching joints. Sitting up, my head swims. I steady myself, blinking away my nausea. Something tickles my cheek. I swipe at it and see blood on my hand. I’m going to be sick.

“Dominick, may I use the bathroom?” My voice quakes with fear.

He tilts his head and studies my face. I focus on his neck to avoid him reading the intentions in my eyes. He must be satisfied with what he sees and nods.

I push up, ignoring my sore wrists and throbbing head, and search for a bathroom. The first door in the hallway is open. I rush in, shut the door behind me, and try to find the lock. Dammit! No lock.

Panic and fear collect in my stomach, sending me to the toilet on my knees. I gag and cough, arching my back with every painful heave. Bile-flavored spit coats my dry mouth, making me retch harder. The smell of my own blood flips my stomach again. A violent heave rocks my body until my stomach surrenders. I try to catch a breath, allowing the tears to fall freely. I sob with my head resting on the toilet seat. My hand does a quick search of my pockets for my phone. I knew it wouldn’t be there, but desperation has me grasping anyway. I’m stuck. Out of options.

What’s going to happen to me?

Thirty-one

Jonah

“Open the door!”

Nothing. I knock harder.

“Dude, calm down. You’re gonna scare the piss out of her.” Blake’s leaning against the brick wall outside Milena’s house while I bang the fucking door down.

I