Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Goddammit, he would never give up on her.
CHAPTER 28
Crammed inside a cell in the municipal police station in eastern Caracas, Lucia struggled to breathe amid the sweltering heat and the reek of body odor, shit, and urine.
She didn’t know where the police had taken Tate. Didn’t know if Tiago Badell was orchestrating their fates. Didn’t know if Matias would be able to find them or if he even had the power to get them out of this place. Her nerves were shot, and with every hour that passed, she felt the tendrils of despair taking root.
When she and Van were thrown in here, they were shell-shocked and manhandled. The guards took his shirt and shoes and her bra and boots. But they let her keep the rest of her clothes. Then they were shoved to the back of the prison cell by dozens of restless, hungry prisoners.
Van had dragged her through the crowded bodies, fighting his way back to the front to yell at the guards through the bars. Though he spoke good Spanish, his pleas for a doctor fell on deaf ears. He’d tried to explain her illness and her need for medical attention, tried to argue for her human rights, but there were no rights here. Within the walls of the calabozo, no one was human.
Shirtless men and barely-dressed women stood shoulder to shoulder against one another, with no room to sit. They took turns resting on hammocks made from sheets tied to the bars. A few managed to squat along the back wall.
Every hacking cough was a reminder of the diseases that lurked among them. Tuberculosis. HIV. Influenza. Not to mention the red scabies-like rashes that blistered the arms and legs around her.
A small window outside of the cell sat high on the wall. The sun had set forever ago. The guards had changed twice. Dawn would come soon.
She stood with her back to a corner. Van had wedged her there, using his body to separate her from the others. With his arms braced on the walls above her head, he worked his jaw rhythmically.
Neither of them had eaten, drank, or gone to the bathroom in over twenty-four hours. Her bladder cramped painfully, but relieving it would require peeing in a plastic bag while everyone watched. She would have to submit to that eventually, but she wasn’t mentally ready.
“Still no symptoms?” Van asked for the hundredth time.
“No.”
There were some nights, though rare, when she didn’t experience nausea, abdominal cramps, or any pain at all.
Tonight, she felt a different kind of pain. A deep, emotional torment that festered and cramped in every part of her.
Tate was probably in a prison cell like this one, alone, unable to stand or defend himself. Were prisoners stepping on him? Was he bleeding out on the filthy floor? Would he take his last breath while prisoners stood on him unaware and unconcerned? She couldn’t stop imagining it, and it was slowly killing her from the inside out.
Beside her, a man leaned his back against the wall, sobbing as he pulled on his hair and scolded himself for robbing a merchant to feed his starving family.
“I can’t believe places like this exist,” Van muttered, staring at the man. “That’s saying something, considering I grew up in the shittiest shit hole on Earth.”
Her chest pinched. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this. This wasn’t your fight.”
“I volunteered.” He bent his knees, bringing his scarred, bruised face into her line of sight. “I’ve committed so many crimes, and this is the first time I’ve been behind bars. This is justice, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “You’re a good man.”
He laughed and returned to his full height, looking away.
“No.” She gripped his bicep and pulled him back down. “What you did for Tate last night, especially knowing you have a wife—”
“How the fuck do you know about her?”
She yanked her arm back and swallowed. “Tiago knows. I’m sorry. I don’t know if he’ll go after her or—”
“She’s safe.” His entire body turned to stone, and he dragged a hand over his face, breathing through his nose as if trying to rein in his temper. “Matias has her. He’s protecting everyone connected to Tate.”
Oh, thank God.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Then she looked up into his silver-bladed gaze. “I probably won’t make it through the morning—”
“Lucia,” he growled.
“I just want to thank you for what you’ve done for him. You didn’t have to come to Caracas. You didn’t have to participate in Tiago’s demands last night. If you hadn’t done those things, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“This far? To a prison?”
“I had five days with him.” Her voice quivered. “I got to experience love. Do you know that feeling?”
“Yeah.” His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened, they glimmered.
Jesus, this mean-looking ex-kidnapper was head over heels in love. Who would’ve thought? She certainly wouldn’t have recognized it before, but now… Now that she knew what it felt like, she sensed this man’s love for his wife all the way down to her toes.