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I touched myself and imagined Sara’s innocent face as she had looked at me jerking off. Next thing I know I was jerking off to my daughter. I came a few minutes later. I wiped myself off, put on a pair of shorts and a Tshirt and walked down the stairs towards the kitchen.I could hear the family chatter and smell pancakes and eggs. I was starving and for a second forgot all about Sara. I entered the kitchen and was greeted with a loud cheer of “Daddy!”“Hey!! Good morning! How is everyone doing?”Mahi ran to me and put her arms around me, “I am great Dad, how are you?” She gave me a kiss on my cheek and then retreated back to the kitchen stool. Adam and Amber also showed their respective enthusiasm.And then I finally heard a feeble “hello”, it was Sara and she was obviously uncomfortable. Suddenly, my fatherly instincts took over and I enthusiastically went over and gave her a hug followed by a kiss on her forehead, “how is my favorite daughter?” That brought a bright smile on her face.. "Are you going to protect me? I can't go back to my apartment now. I have to hide somewhere until after Valentine's Day." We'll see what we can do, Chantill. We'll do all we can to protect you. You're safe for now. Nothing is going to happen till Valentine's Day. Don't tell anyone about this conversation and you'll be okay. Whatever you do, don't even tell Dan till we get back to you. Your life could be at stake."Later that day, as we returned to the office, we found out that both guns that we found at Chantill's office were registered to men that were dead. The odd thing was that they were originally sold by Lee Murphy. We figured that Dan might have been a go-between, between Lee Murphy and the two mob bosses Moe Headly and John Taylor.We needed a search warrant to have a look in that safe. We asked Chantill to let us know when Dan came back. We knew that Murphy had another outdoor store outside of Youngstown. He also owned some real estate in that area. At one time, it was known to.
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She knew the possibility was remote. They were walking on little more than game trails, and they had come miles down dirt roads to get here. They were in the backwoods. She cursed herself for agreeing to this; her only consolation the unworthy one that the friend who talked her into it was suffering far more than she. When these so-called slavers were done with them they would talk to Dr. Wilkerson, oh yes, and let her and the college know in no uncertain terms what had gone on. Amie remembered a psychological experiment that she had studied, the Stanford prison experiment, where college students were assigned jobs as guards or prisoners in a makeshift prison in the basement of the psychology department. The experiment had to be stopped because the guards had become abusive. Amie assumed that something of the kind was happening here. These men, whoever they were, had exceeded their instructions. Hanging someone by her thumbs, whipping her brutally, that couldn’t be.

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