through stopping the terrorist cell that had taken his Lizzie. He walked back to Bethany and asked if she was ready to leave.
“Let me grab my purse,” she said leaving him standing alone near the entrance. She returned anxiously, eager for what the night had in store. He reached for her hand and led her outside.
“I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow,” she offered. Fuck, how was he going to sneak out of her bed now? He would walk home; God knew he did plenty of walking as a former Green Beret.
Chapter 3
Lola’s eyes felt heavy as she struggled to open them. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious nor did she know where she was. She smelled a musty odor, like it had just rained and wherever she was, felt damp and moldy. She was lying on a lumpy mattress with her head on an even lumpier pillow, yet she still couldn’t open her eyes. Then she heard it. At first it sounded far off in the distance, but the more she came to, the closer the voices sounded. They were the voices of females talking in another language. She recognized the French from the classes she’d taken in school. Then she exhaled as she heard English coming from someone near her.
“Hey. You awake?” the voice asked. She was still too groggy to open her eyes or respond. She had to pull out of whatever lethargy the drug had caused. She never did drugs, not even prescription medicines. Under the darkness of her closed eyelids, the memories came flooding back to her.
She was fourteen when she found her mother lying on the ensuite floor, unresponsive to Lola’s pleading. Dead. She’d known about the prescription medicines, but it wasn’t until after the funeral that her father told her that her mom had abused prescription drugs.
She remembered when her mother had hurt her back and the doctor prescribed pain medication. Her initial injury healed, but she was never able to get off of the medication, and apparently, because of their wealth, she was able to get whatever she wanted with a simple phone call. It came to light that her father knew all along about her addiction to pain medication and had even tried committing her mother three times to stays at a rehabilitation facility, the best money could buy. But it was no use; she was an addict.
When she found her lying on the floor, Lola raced to her side and dropped to her knees. Tears immediately streamed down her face as she shook her and pleaded with her to wake.
“Help! Help us!” she screamed. Eventually the staff heard her cries and came running into the bathroom. “Call 9-1-1,” she cried. After what felt like forever, the ambulance finally arrived, but pronounced her dead on the scene. Lola was never the same afterwards. All of her fond memories of her mother were stained by the vision of her lifeless body lying on that floor.
Drugs robbed her of a mother. Lola swore to herself she would never touch the stuff and in her twenty years, she never had. She would suffer through headaches so she didn’t have to take a pill. She was pissed at her mother for not being strong enough to get off drugs. Pissed her mom had left her when she needed her the most, at the tender age of fourteen. Pissed she didn’t care who found her, not even if it was her only child. She never had anyone to share stories of her first kiss with, never had anyone to share any of her success stories with. She had been robbed of her childhood on that very dark day.
Now she found herself drugged and in a foreign environment. Definitely not the Ritz Carlton. She was someplace dirty and uncomfortable, and from the sounds of it – she was with other women. What did they want from her? Maybe everyone here was being held for ransom.
She felt herself coming back and started to blink rapidly to clear the drug induced sleep from her mind. What she saw shocked her, and she shrank back into the bumpy mattress. There was a stunning brunette standing over her asking her questions. She tried
“Let me grab my purse,” she said leaving him standing alone near the entrance. She returned anxiously, eager for what the night had in store. He reached for her hand and led her outside.
“I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow,” she offered. Fuck, how was he going to sneak out of her bed now? He would walk home; God knew he did plenty of walking as a former Green Beret.
Chapter 3
Lola’s eyes felt heavy as she struggled to open them. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious nor did she know where she was. She smelled a musty odor, like it had just rained and wherever she was, felt damp and moldy. She was lying on a lumpy mattress with her head on an even lumpier pillow, yet she still couldn’t open her eyes. Then she heard it. At first it sounded far off in the distance, but the more she came to, the closer the voices sounded. They were the voices of females talking in another language. She recognized the French from the classes she’d taken in school. Then she exhaled as she heard English coming from someone near her.
“Hey. You awake?” the voice asked. She was still too groggy to open her eyes or respond. She had to pull out of whatever lethargy the drug had caused. She never did drugs, not even prescription medicines. Under the darkness of her closed eyelids, the memories came flooding back to her.
She was fourteen when she found her mother lying on the ensuite floor, unresponsive to Lola’s pleading. Dead. She’d known about the prescription medicines, but it wasn’t until after the funeral that her father told her that her mom had abused prescription drugs.
She remembered when her mother had hurt her back and the doctor prescribed pain medication. Her initial injury healed, but she was never able to get off of the medication, and apparently, because of their wealth, she was able to get whatever she wanted with a simple phone call. It came to light that her father knew all along about her addiction to pain medication and had even tried committing her mother three times to stays at a rehabilitation facility, the best money could buy. But it was no use; she was an addict.
When she found her lying on the floor, Lola raced to her side and dropped to her knees. Tears immediately streamed down her face as she shook her and pleaded with her to wake.
“Help! Help us!” she screamed. Eventually the staff heard her cries and came running into the bathroom. “Call 9-1-1,” she cried. After what felt like forever, the ambulance finally arrived, but pronounced her dead on the scene. Lola was never the same afterwards. All of her fond memories of her mother were stained by the vision of her lifeless body lying on that floor.
Drugs robbed her of a mother. Lola swore to herself she would never touch the stuff and in her twenty years, she never had. She would suffer through headaches so she didn’t have to take a pill. She was pissed at her mother for not being strong enough to get off drugs. Pissed her mom had left her when she needed her the most, at the tender age of fourteen. Pissed she didn’t care who found her, not even if it was her only child. She never had anyone to share stories of her first kiss with, never had anyone to share any of her success stories with. She had been robbed of her childhood on that very dark day.
Now she found herself drugged and in a foreign environment. Definitely not the Ritz Carlton. She was someplace dirty and uncomfortable, and from the sounds of it – she was with other women. What did they want from her? Maybe everyone here was being held for ransom.
She felt herself coming back and started to blink rapidly to clear the drug induced sleep from her mind. What she saw shocked her, and she shrank back into the bumpy mattress. There was a stunning brunette standing over her asking her questions. She tried
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