Leroy Kingston.
He is dangerous. He is ruthless and he craves revenge.
As a mafia boss, he's used to simply taking lives out without even blinking. Why didn't it work with Katrina? Was it the fear in those sky-blue eyes that made him start thinkin...
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Three...
Four...
Five...
Six...
Silently, I count the seconds in my head since Leroy started his car.
Ten minutes have passed since we left. I look out the window and try to remember where we're going. But it's useless. I wouldn't be able to find my way back so easily, since the streets are completely unfamiliar and I hardly see any people here. I hope that counting the seconds will help me to know at the end how far this warehouse is from the place where he is driving now.
Where is he going anyway?
Still, I'm certainly not going to ask now. Also, I can't because of the tape on my lips, but mainly because my instinct tells me that he wouldn't give me an answer anyway.
I grimace as I try to swallow. My mouth is so dry that swallowing already hurts. I am so thirsty. When was the last time I actually drank? How long was I unconscious and how long in this room, during the reflection time? This uncertainty feeds the panic. A sinking feeling spreads through my stomach as if a claw is reaching out and squeezing my stomach. How many days have passed since this guy kidnapped me, anyway? It was midnight. When I woke up, I could see the rays of light from a rising or setting sun. The thought that it might have just been the rising sun calms me a little bit down. Let's leave it at that. I'm sure that only a few hours have passed and that's why the sun was rising and not setting again, because that would mean that I was unconscious for a few hours.
No. Only a few hours have passed, for sure. I woke up in the morning, told that I had to make a decision, and was left alone again for a very long time. Now it is already dawn. So it will be only twenty-four hours soon.
Still, a lot of hours...
I need water. Or something else to drink, but I need to drink something now or I'll hyperventilate.
My focus is on him.
Concentrated, the deep, cold eyes focus on the road, not looking once at me. A strand of his hair is loose and is falling on his forehead, but he doesn't bother to brush it away. I clear my throat quietly to get his attention. Nothing. He doesn't even blink. God, I need something to drink now!
So I whimper. I can't do more than make muffled noises. And it works. For the first time, Leroy looks at me from the mirror. Desperately, I raise my brows and squint at my mouth.
Hopefully, he can understand what I mean.
But he merely gives me an expressionless look before looking back at the road. I would snort indignantly now if I could. So I try it one more time, maybe he doesn't understand what I want to tell him. But even as I clear my throat again, he doesn't look at me, which makes me growl inwardly in annoyance.
