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The woman had a wide, phony smile that dwindled when she saw Luke, then expanded an extra two inches to make up for its flaw.
“Come in, come in,” she said, with that same simpering smile that reeked of phoniness.
“Luke Breinstein, I trust?” she asked. He nodded. “Ah, wonderful.”
“I don’t know Luke,” she replied, still giggling.
I’m going to throw up. It was her first conscious thought, and it was an unpleasant one.
Not again! Not here! She thought, fear coiling in her stomach and mixing with the nausea.
It was biting cold inside the trailer.
Ashlee sighed, giving up on the wire, though it chaffer her skin painfully.
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