Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
The whimpering sound she makes affects me in all the wrong fucking ways. My dad and Patrick would be turning over in their fucking graves if they saw me right now.
I don’t have the integrity they have. I don’t sit back and watch as the justice system fails people over and over. I don’t have a problem getting my hands dirty like they did.
“Calm the fuck down,” I growl. “I’d never risk sticking my dick in a Mafia whore.”
I lift her, shoving her back to the headboard with her in a sitting position, leaning her forward long enough to pull the hood from her head and the gag from her mouth.
To my surprise, she doesn’t scream for help. Mascara streaks down her face. Her lipstick must be that all-day-wear shit because it’s still perfect. The sight of it makes me want to scrub it from her skin. No one’s lips should be that fucking enticing, especially not this bitch’s.
“What’s your fucking name?”
“Mad-Madelene Lombardi,” she says, telling me one truth I already know.
“I want to know everything about the Severino family.”
She blinks up at me, but I know she understands fucking English. Her silence is her refusal.
“Do you have any idea how badly I could hurt you?” I growl, liking it a little too much when she pulls her head back only an inch. “Tell me.”
“They will kill me if I tell you anything,” she says, her words calmer than I’d ever expect from someone in her position.
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
She blinks up at me, her red-rimmed eyes puffy from crying while she had the hood over her head.
“Looks like I’m dead either way.”
I stare at her. I can’t tell if she’s acting tough because she’s an actual badass or if it’s her fear of the Severino family that has earned her silence. I doubt they will see her strength as a good thing. I doubt they would ever expect her to remain silent. Her capture will be viewed as a betrayal all on its own.
I lean in closer, ready to spit another threat I’m not certain I could follow through with, when my phone rings.
I pull it from my pocket, wondering if I’m already fucked when I see Angel’s name on the screen. I leave the room, walking through the kitchen to the back porch before answering.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“Have you not checked your email?”
“I haven’t.”
“I want an update.”
“On what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You were supposed to rescue that girl. I haven’t heard shit.”
“I tried,” I say. “She was already gone.”
“You lost her?”
Answering yes implies failure, and it’s something I would normally not allow myself to be associated with, but this isn’t exactly normal.
“I went to take a shower and get a couple hours sleep,” I lie easily. “By the time I got back on their trail, she was already gone. I don’t know if they stashed her somewhere or sent her home.”
“So you’re still tracking them?”
“I gave up. Those guys are boring as hell. I figure getting intel was no longer part of the deal. Besides, I can’t get fucking close enough to hear them say shit.”
“Gave up?” He grunts like a father disappointed in me rather than some quasi-boss that only sends us information on jobs because he collects part of the fee. “Guess I can see if Nash wants it.”
“Whatever, man,” I say, trying to keep the nonchalant air I’ve always had with the man. “Tell him the last time I saw the group, they were heading south out of town.”
It’s the complete opposite of where I abducted Madelene. I’m praying the cops and any witnesses are on the cartel’s payroll, and that the new bond the Severinos have with the Cortezes will keep that information from leaking out past the paid men who will be hunting me down.
“I’ll let him know. Fuck, the goddamned new guy is here early.”
“Hey, I think I need a break for a while. I’ll email when I’m ready to get back to work.”
The line goes dead. I don’t even know if the man heard me. He has the phone manners of a fucking distracted toddler.
It isn’t until I walk back into the house and back toward the bedroom that it occurs to me that she didn’t scream. Most people would cry out for help, either to the person on the phone or because they hope someone walking by might hear their cries for help.
She’s different from any woman I’ve ever seen in captivity. There’s no hope in her eyes as I enter the room. It’s as if she’s resigned herself to her fate, like she knows how this ends and she has no power to change it, so why waste the energy?
I know better than to think that makes her an ally. She’s likely to kill me the second she gets the chance.