Carla took a deep breath of the crisp Colorado air that was tinged with the pungent smell of marijuana and rich soil. She let it sink into her, releasing her tense muscles as she walked through the misty greenhouse. There was always a thin layer of fog that hung low and swirled early in the morning and it transported her to someplace magical, someplace that wasn’t run by the world’s creepiest boss. Just her and the plants. The tiny sparks she had nurtured to life.
It had been two days, and now that it was time, her nerves were almost getting the best of her. The plan that had popped into her head--of stealing the latest shipment of weed, selling it for the money she so desperately needed, and taking off--had latched on and wouldn’t let go. She’d done what she could to make sure that Eric wouldn’t come in today. Eric was the guy who regularly drove their deliveries. He was a nice enough guy, but he was kind of flaky anyways, and, like Carla, was known to indulge in a little bit of their own product from time to time.
She had been on the fence, worrying about whether or not to go through with it, but yesterday at work, Maurice had been there, and as bad as the night before had been, this had been even worse.
He had been there, waiting for her, first thing in the morning. And everywhere she turned throughout the day, he was there, leering at her with those eyes of his, tracking her movements like a predator eyeing its next meal and the tension had been worse than ever. She had felt trapped, claustrophobic and then she had been trapped for real as he’d cornered her in the back of the small shed they used to house tools and equipment.
“You want this just as much as I do, stop trying to play like some innocent little girl,” he’d growled at her.
“No, I don’t. Let me go,” she’d said as firmly as she could through the trembling of her voice. “I just want to do my job, that’s it.”
“Well, if you want to keep this precious job of yours, maybe you should consider being a little more accommodating.”
Carla had tried to duck past him but his bulk blocked most of the doorway and panic had settled hard and painful in her chest. She knew she had to get out of there. Luckily, the sound of a cell phone ringing echoed through the shed just then and Maurice answered it. She’d used his moment of distraction to escape, but now she knew. He wasn’t going to stop. She didn’t really have any other choice anymore. She had to go through with her plan.
It had been easy enough to switch a few dates around on the calendar. No one really paid attention to that unless they were checking for something specific which is why yesterday, no one had noticed the shipment date had mysteriously gone absent. She prayed that would be enough to stop Eric from coming in.
She moved out of the greenhouse and towards the truck, almost full and ready for shipment. It was a big, seventeen-foot moving truck that had been repurposed with the Honey Bud Farm logo. While it showed plenty signs of wear, it didn’t matter, as long as it got her away from here. Carla walked back to where the final bags of dried and processed plant were stacked against the side of the house that held the office. She heard a raised voice and paused.
“Damn it, Eric. What the hell is wrong with you! You knew there was a shipment due to be delivered today!” Maurice’s angry shouts were easily heard from where Carla was working just outside the open window to the office. Nervously, she crossed her fingers, and prayed her plan would work.
“What do you mean it wasn’t posted on the schedule? It has to go out today, you asshole. I don’t care if you’re camping in the middle of god-damned nowhere, just get here. Now!”
There was another long stretch of silence before she heard Maurice slam the receiver down. A moment later, he stormed out of the front door, his face beet red with anger and sweat drenching his face as he mumbled under his breath.
“Hey, Maurice, is everything okay?” she asked, desperately trying to keep her voice normal, all the while hating to even bring his attention to where she still stood on the side of the house. He turned to her, his eyes automatically swept over her body and, as he spoke, the words were directed more at her breasts than at her.
“Fucking Eric. He says he can’t deliver this shipment but it has to leave today. We’re on a tight schedule,” the last words were almost a shout as he swept a meaty hand over his face, wiping away some of the sweat but not all. Carla took a deep, fortifying breath. Now was her chance. It was now or never.
“Maybe, uh…maybe I could deliver it?” she said as nonchalantly as she could. “I’ve driven a truck before,” she lied through her teeth and kept her eyes on the knot she was trying to tie in the bag in front of her, praying that he would believe her, that he wouldn’t see the way her hands trembled.
Maurice stared at her for a long time, one of his eyebrows arched doubtfully and she wished he would say something, anything as her heart rate doubled, and then tripled, pounding like a race horse in her chest.
“Fine. Here, take it.” He tossed her the truck keys and she fumbled at them, barely catching them. “The address of the dispensary is in the truck. Just deliver it and come straight back,” his gaze changed, his dark eyes heating as they stayed glued to her breasts, “You still have other work to do.”
His tone left her no doubt that she had no interest in the kind of ‘work’ he was talking about and she hastily grabbed the last of the shipment, loaded it in, and locked the back before she scrambled into the cabin of the truck.
or the cover to read TAKEN today!
Available for FREE!
Read on for an excerpt from Brook Wilder’s bestselling novel full-length novel – Taken: