29
Ricky
I snuck back the hallway, the murmur of voices drawing me deeper into the safe house’s interior. The second I recognized Casey’s voice, a rush of air left my lungs.
Alive.
A door stood open, light spilling into the dark hallway in a rectangle of hope amidst the grungy carpet.
“I’m not the type of woman he wants long term.” Casey’s quiet voice reached my ears.
My brow furrowed, my palms around my Glock sweaty as f**k as I stopped, my back against the wall.
“He wants shy, quiet, and clingy.” Her voice caught, and I realized she wasn’t trying to play the fucker—she believed her words and the truth she’d concluded cut her deep.
“You’re the f*****g opposite.” The Latino fucker.
The muscle in my jaw ticked.
“A loudmouthed cunt, but I’ll f**k the fight right out of you.”
I pee
