Minutes to Kill by Melinda Leigh Page A

day was it? Sunday?
    Death couldn’t be too far away. She couldn’t last another day without water. The desert climate wasn’t natural to her. She never thought she’d say it, but she missed Toledo. At this point, she’d be happy to go back to her mom’s house and deal with the new boyfriend. Lenny’s abuse seemed like nothing after the hundreds of men since she’d been grabbed off the street and brought here.
    Mick was a master at causing pain. He wasn’t going to forgive her this time, and if he ever learned what else she’d done . . .
    Stupid is exactly what she was. All that risk for nothing. She’d thought she was smarter than him? That she could take him down? She shuddered. This beating was bad, but Mick could do much worse. But the worst thing was, despite her current misery, she could still envision escape. She didn’t want to die.
    The cuffs dug into her wrists. She rubbed them in the dirt to move them to a fresh quarter inch of skin. The dog whined at the back of the shed. Jewel inched to the wall and stuck her hand in a two-inch gap between the dirt and the side of the shed. A wet nose sniffed her fingers. As the dog licked her hand, Jewel’s eyes filled. Too bad Butch couldn’t dig her out.
    Footsteps outside the shed filled her with hope and dread. She wanted out of this shed, but Mick was pissed. Would it be better to die slowly of dehydration? If Mick did it, he’d make sure it hurt.
    The door opened. Jewel tried to slide backward, to get as far away from her visitor as possible.
    Lisa stood in the opening, a bucket in her hand, a plastic bag in the other. Behind her, Jewel could see Butch chewing on a large hunk of red and raw meat.
    Walking through, Lisa closed the door. Jewel squinted up at her. Silhouetted against the sunshine, Lisa looked as pale as a cloud. The skin of her shoulders and arms were nearly glowing white. The sunshine rarely touched her skin.
    “Stupid bitch. I don’t care if Mick kills you. How dare you fuck up my life?” Lisa squatted in front of Jewel, grabbed her hair, and lifted her head off the ground a few inches. “Last thing I want to do is go back to working. Did you actually think you could get away?”
    With her head craned backward, Jewel’s throat was too stretched and dry for a response.
    “Mick wants you clean, but if I was you, I’d drink this water first or you’re gonna be dead by tomorrow morning. Not that I care, but I don’t need Mick any madder than he already is. He wants you alive.”
    Pain seared through Jewel’s scalp. Lisa opened her fist, and Jewel’s head smacked into the dirt. Lisa put the bucket within reach. Jewel got her knees under her body, lifted her shoulders, and stuck her trembling hands into the bucket. She lifted a palmful of water to her cracked lips. The cool moisture slid down her throat. It tasted of rusty pipes, but she didn’t care.
    “Is Mick here?” Her voice creaked.
    Lisa shook her head. “I ain’t never seen a girl piss him off as much as you, but this time, girl, you fucked up big-time.”
    Lisa dug a bar of soap from her pocket and tossed it into the dirt. “Get washed. Put those stinking clothes by the door.”
    For an ex-whore, Lisa had an OCD thing about being clean. She showered three times a day, as if she couldn’t get the scent of men and sex from her skin, even though she hadn’t worked in the whole time Jewel had been here. Sam made her do nasty things, but at least he was only one man.
    Lisa took a key from the pocket of her ripped shorts. She unlocked the handcuffs on Jewel’s wrists. “You make one wrong move, and I’ll hurt you. After what you done to me, I’d like nothing better.”
    Jewel rubbed her wrists, cupped another handful of water, and drank. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why do you do what they say?”
    “Because I have no interest in being dead, and this is the best I’ve ever had it. Unlike you, I appreciate three meals most days and a place to sleep