The Red Zone: Second Chance Sports Romance by Sloane Peterson

Author:Sloane Peterson [Peterson, Sloane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-17T18:00:00+00:00

7

Sylvia

“That isn't her.”

“What?! What do you mean it isn't her?”

“Use your fucking eyeballs! It isn't the right girl!”

“It looks like her to me...”

“Yeah, because you spend so much time around women!”

“Hey, fuck off!”

“Look, I'm telling you it ain't her. We fucked up, and Montana ain't gonna be happy about it...”

“We fucked up? You're the one who grabbed her! Besides, the bitch broke my fucking nose! It better be her or I am going to be seriously pissed off...”

“Oh, boo hoo... You can't get any worse than you were already.”

“Hey, fuck you!”

I was slowly coming out of it. My body felt like it had that night at the Richards' house, cracked open like an egg, yolk oozing slowly down along the front of my body in drippy yellow rivulets. The room was spinning around me, and I could vaguely make out the shape of men. How many I couldn't tell, because their numbers seemed to double and triple every other second. One of them, or six, was holding up a middle finger to the other– the one whose nose I'd broken with the football trophy, I surmised, and who I'd left out cold on the floor in the hallway.

I grunted, shutting my eyes again, hoping this might settle the world back into some semblance of focus. I shook my head, and then pulled forward. My hands were tied behind my back, and I was secured tightly to a chair in the center of the room. A bright yellow light shone down on me from overhead, a naked bulb casting shadows all around the room.

It was cold. Very cold. I still had on nothing but underwear and Luc's overlarge t-shirt, and I felt my body shivering around me. I wondered if I'd been doing it ever since I'd been asleep.

I lifted my head up, trying to see straight again.

“Hey, I think she's waking up...”

“You up, bitch?!”

“For fuck's sake, O'Leary!”

“What! This little whore could have given me a concussion! And if we did all that just to end up with the wrong chick...”

“It can't be any worse than when your mom dropped you on your fucking head as a baby. I say that did a hell of lot more damage than this broad ever did.”

“Damn it, Stevens, whose side are you on?!”

They weren't wearing masks as they'd done during the kidnapping. The scrawnier of the two men was the one whose nose I'd broken, and who kept insulting me. He struck me as having something of a temper, and being high strung in general from the looks of him. He had greased back blond hair and sort of bug eyes, whereas his partner was huge and hulking, more laid back, but no less menacing with his jet black hair and black, soulless eyes.

“Where am I?” I dared to ask, and the two of them suddenly became silent. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing yet,” snarled O'Leary, the scrawny one. “We promised our boss we wouldn't lay a hand on you until he's decided what we're gonna do with you.

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