CHAPTER TWELVE
The night had taken all the daylight from the landscape. There were streetlights, headlights and marquees to illuminate the evening. And in the air was the same excitement Laney had felt while she was in the cottage being bathed. ‘Everything was changing,’ Kafka’s refrain repeated.
Through twisted, narrow streets and pitch black alleys, the small car careened with surprising ease, although she hardly felt as jostled about as she had been when she was leaving the city bound in the back seat—not four days ago—four days; it seemed like an eon ago. She felt apprehensive but hopeful now, although she had no idea what inspired her hope. She knew that she’d be used for s*x that night—s*x she’d learned to handle with some ease. But she was still at the mercy of ruthless villains w
