There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

He doesn’t respond, pushing the laptop toward me. Waiting while I insert the
flash drive into its slot.
The drive contains only one file: a video, twenty-eight minutes long.
My mouth has gone dry. When I try to lick my lips, my tongue rubs across
them like cardboard.
My index finger hovers over the cursor. I’m frightened, and I don’t want to
see whatever Cole is trying to show me. I know it won’t be good.
He stands up from his chair, coming around the back of mine. Watching over
my shoulder.
There’s no way out of this.
I click the video to make it play.
The image that flickers onto the screen is dimly lit and grainy. It appears to
be the interior of some kind of small house—wooden floors and walls, only
one room that includes the kitchenette, single bed, and the door to the
outside. It could be a cabin or a shack.
A man kneels directly in front of the door, shirtless, wearing only boxer
shorts, his legs bent beneath him and his large, misshapen feet splayed out
below. His graying hair is scruffy and his back hairy and sagging.
I recognize him immediately. I’ll never forget the shape of that blocky head,
with its roll of fat where the skull almost meets the shoulders.
The wave of revulsion that washes over me is physical, so strong I have to
clamp my hand over my mouth to prevent the carbonara from making another
appearance. I want to jump out of my chair, but my legs are rubber, bent
under the table.
I thought the video was silent, but now I hear Randall let out a low moan.
His nose is pressed against the door. He appears to be kneeling on something
—possibly marbles. He squirms with discomfort but doesn’t dare take his
nose away from the door.