The Cassidy Chronicles – CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Okay, okay, it’s a short chapter. But Adam has said he absolutely will not allow me to post two chapters together this week, since the story bounces between what I was doing and what Cass was doing. Damn.

And for those of you who have read more of the story – nice to see you again! – this chapter does seem to fly in the face of my whole, “Blame is for the past,” mantra. In my defense, I didn’t really learn it until I started working with Alley, which happened five years later than the events in this book. So I still had growing up to do.

Adam really needs your help – he’s got an entry in the October Cover Contest, and he’s looking for votes. You can vote every round (they reset on Friday), and it doesn’t cost you anything to register on the site. It’s easy to do from the computer, not so much from the phone just so you’re aware. He knows you don’t have to do this, so he’s sweetened the pot. Everyone who votes gets their name into the list of redshirts to be included in upcoming Cassidverse stories, AND you also have a chance to win a $100 Gift Card from Restaurant.com! So click one button to vote, and the other to enter the rafflecopter!


Click HERE to VOTE!

Now you’ve Voted, click HERE to enter the contest!

Chapter 22: Your Audience Awaits

The transport stopped, jarring Kendra against the wall. They had driven for a long, timeless time which she had no way of judging. The drugs made her only peripherally aware of her surroundings in any case. She was wrapped in her thoughts.

How could I be so blind? How could I fall into their hands so easily? Here, drink this Kendra. Here’s a new password, Kendra, don’t worry that it’s not the regular password, it’s all good. You need escorts, Kendra. Strict need to know, Kendra. Frak me!

She raised her head in dejection as the door opened. Gary’s – Greg’s – who-the-fuck-ever’s head was silhouetted in the light.

“Still with us?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Ah, the famous Foster-Briggs temper. Tell me, Kendra, when you blasted the Organization to hell, all those years ago, did you do it because you were pissed? Were you ordered to do it? Or were you just too stupid to realize you would never be able to escape?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You were responsible for three years of bloody chaos as all the remaining factions fought it out for supremacy, after you took out Williamson and his lieutenants.” He had climbed into the back and stood just out of reach of her feet.

“Williamson was scum, he was snatching girls from their homes and forcing them to sell themselves!”

Gary/Greg stood, impassive. “Doesn’t matter to me. You might want to think about what your story’s gonna be when you get inside.”

“Why? So I fetch a better price? You can’t make me fuck them; whoever buys me will just have to kill me.”

“Oh, no, Kendra, no! First, you have to talk him out of killing you outright.”

“Talk who out of it?”

“Why, Junior. Williamson’s son. He’s the one who paid for your return, and paid a pretty penny too.” He reached into a deep pocket. “Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

“Your mother still walking the Boulevard every day? Or is she hiding in the dark now?”

“Hard way. Fine.” He pulled his hand out of the pocket, holding a tranquilizer gun. “Good night.” The pfft of the dart was buried under her scream of rage, cut off as the sedative took effect.

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