Rescuing Stitch by Ellie Masters EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ellie Masters
- Language: English
- Genre: Military Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Stitch
WHEN I WAS A KID, I HAD A LOT OF DREAMS. BEING AT THE TOP OF THE
FRI’s most wanted list for cubercrimes and terrorism was never one of
them.
But isn’t that how life works?
I got cocky, and that made me sloppy. Now, I’m doing the time. Twenty
to life is what I expect to get slapped with at my sentencing later today.
Wonder where they’ll send me?
The harsh rap of knuckles on metal jars me rudely from my restless
dozing. I jolt upright, blinking against the bright fluorescent lights burning
my retinas.
What time is it?
“Rise and shine, princess. You’ve got a visitor.” The guard’s gravelly
voice grates through the bars.
I unfold myself from the cramped cot, joints cracking, run a hand
through my tangled black hair, and tug my fancy orange jumper into some
kind of order—the stench of stale sweat and B.O. clings to me. I’d kill for a
shower right about now.
A visitor?
“Who is it?” My voice comes out rough and unused. Raspy. Actually,
it’s kind of sexy in a sultry kind of way. Bet it would drive the boys crazy.
Too bad I’ll never find out, rotting away in this hellhole.
“You’ll see soon enough.” The guard cuffs my wrists, letting the metal
bite my bony skin.
Happy joy-joy. He loves his job way too much. Like, I’m going to get
the jump on him.
Asshole.
He shackles my ankles, too, chains clanking. Standard transport
protocol, even for a scrawny twenty-one-year-old accused of cybercrimes
against the good ole U.S. of A. Just his way of constantly reminding me that
I’m nothing but a number to him.
An animal in a cage.
My future gone.
I want to spit in his smug face, but that would earn me nothing but a
backhand or worse. So I keep my head down, biding my time, as he leads
me through a maze of featureless concrete halls. The debilitating stench of
industrial cleaner burns my nose, barely masking the underlying funk of
unwashed bodies packed too close together.
We reach the visitation room, empty save for a cold metal table and two
chairs. The guards shove me down roughly onto one and retreat outside. I
sit motionless, steeling myself for hours of mind-numbing boredom. It’s not
like I have any other pressing engagements to get to, but I hate when other
people waste mine.
A minute later, in walks a woman with spiky rainbow hair, an assault of
glittery psychedelics that makes my eyes ache after days of gray. She wears
casual attire—jeans and a loose-fitting shirt, with chunky combat boots:
weird combo and a strange choice for someone visiting a prison.
Speaking of, she’s an unlikely visitor for a delinquent like me. Instant
suspicion coils in my gut as I size her up, trying to figure out her angle. The
woman smiles brightly, stopping just inside the doorway.
“I’m Mitzy. Been looking forward to meeting you.” Her voice rings
with sincerity, but I don’t trust that for a second. No one’s happy to visit this
hellhole out of the goodness of their heart.
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