Page 2 of The Sinners Gambit

As soon as the guy with the gun’s in the car, the driver pulls out of the gas station. My entire body is shaking as I continue to have cold sweats.

“Please just let me go. I won’t tell, I promise,” I beg as tears start to slowly stream down my face.

These are stories you hear about in the news, in novels, in movies. This doesn’t happen to women like me, it happens to other people, but I know that’s also a lie. You think nothing’s ever going to happen to you, until it fucking does.

The man with the gun pulls something out of his pocket. I realize it is a syringe when a passing street light sheds some light inside the car. “No! Please don’t!” I scream. Without any remorse, he quickly plunges the needle into my neck. I don’t know how much time passes before I start to feel weak and drowsy. Seconds? Minutes?

“Please,” I plead. It’s barely audible, even to my ears. I know it’s futile anyway.

The man pulls his hood down and smiles at me as my eyes start fluttering, struggling to stay open. Before I fully lose consciousness, I get a clear view of his deep green eyes that pierce down to my core. I’m so screwed.

My last thought before everything fades to black is about my captor who, in a depraved way, excites me.

How can someone so beautiful be so evil?

Chapter 1

Naomi

Earlier that day

Igetintomycarafter a late-night shift at Granny’s, a 24/7 diner, at 12 AM according to the dashboard. Cracking my neck, I turn on the radio to have something to sing along to on my forty-five-minute drive so I stay awake.

About twenty minutes in, my car starts making a sputtering sound. I look at my gas gauge, and it’s showing that my tank is empty, which is bullshit because I filled it last night. “Fuck!” I yell out to the abyss. I can’t afford to lose a whole gas tank with all my other bills. I gingerly pull over to avoid an accident. Not that I expect anyone else to come down this road at this time of night.

Eventually, the car sputters to a complete stop. “Goddamn it!” I scream, slamming my palms on the steering wheel as I try to ignore the tears forming. There’s nothing but trees for miles in each direction, with no cars in sight at this late hour. My phone has no charge left because we were so busy from the moment I walked into work—not even getting a second to plug it in. And I stupidly forgot during my very short break.

Refusing to let fear take over, I get out of my car, grabbing my sweater and purse. I start toward home, walking on the edge of the road. At least it’s a nice night outside, which helps.

After fifteen minutes, I see headlights illuminating the dark road. Help! I turn around to flag down the vehicle—hoping they can give me a ride into town. I smile in their direction, but it quickly turns into a frown as I see that the car is starting to speed up—the echo of the acceleration bouncing off the trees.

“What the—” I don’t finish the thought before I’m running as fast as my feet will take me in the opposite direction. I go into the grass, but the car keeps coming. I trip over something and fall, making me lose my slip-on sneakers. I don’t risk searching for them before running straight into the woods—taking my chances getting lost there versus this apparently murderous stranger.

Rocks and twigs are digging into my feet as I run wildly through the woods. I don’t have even half a second to consider the pain of my feet being torn apart. The fear of being caught and needing to run is solely taking over my focus.

I can hear the echo of the car door opening and closing, but that just makes me push myself faster. “Go! Go! Go!” I shout at myself. “You have to get away.”

“Running away are we, little bird? I love it when my prey runs from me!” my assailant yells out.

Not being able to see in front of me, I trip again, hitting my head on a tree. I moan out in pain as I see stars and the trees start to blur. Not getting a chance to get up, I feel a hand grip a chunk of my hair and pull.

The person whispers into my ear, “I caught you little bird.” Then he pulls so hard he yanks the chunk of hair out of my head. I scream out in excruciating pain . . .

“Stop!” I scream out.

I sit up abruptly, coming out of my slumber—sweat coating every inch of my skin.

“Another nightmare?” Quinnly calls out from the corner of the room. I’m lucky to have her as not only my adoptive little sister, but also my best friend. The Adams family adopted me when I was twelve years old. I’d been stuck in the foster care system for two years following my mother’s brutal murder. There was no one to care for me, as my dad passed away before I was born and my mother didn’t have any family. The police never found the person responsible, but the details of the crime have haunted my sleep ever since.

I kick my head back into my pillow and groan loudly. “As always.”

I turn to take a peek at her, and the smell of acetone takes over now that I’m fully awake. “Were you watching me in my sleep while painting your fucking nails?”

“The TV was boring, and you talk in your sleep.” She shrugs as she continues to paint her toes a bloody red. “Besides, we know I’m not supposed to wake you from a night terror.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I get up. “I need coffee.”

Quinnly smiles at me as she gets up from the chair, giving me a full view of her typical quirky outfit. She’s wearing a neon-pink poofy skirt and tight corset top, accentuating her many tattoos—especially the word “menace” across her throat. “Yeah, grumpy gills, I put on a fresh pot.”

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