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)
“Yeah.”
Van’s father, Mr. E, had given him Camila’s information and ordered him to take her. Her disappearance had been part of a revenge plan led by Matias’ own brother.
“Two months after I took Camila,” Van said, “Lucia disappeared. It’s related, isn’t it? To Matias’ cartel?”
“Yes, and Matias killed every person involved in the sisters’ kidnappings.”
Except Van. He had Tate to thank for that. Since Camila had made peace with her former captor, Tate had talked Matias out of retaliating.
“When Lucia was captured, Camila was presumed dead.” Tate trained the binoculars on Lucia’s apartment door, and an ache pinched his chest. “When Badell brought her here, he would’ve tried to collect a ransom from her parents, who were already dead.” He met Van’s eyes. “She believes she’s alone.”
He wanted so badly to storm into her apartment and tell her Camila was alive. But he couldn’t. Not while she was being watched.
“I’m trying to be patient,” he said, turning toward Cole, “but I need to know the plan.”
“There’s somewhere she goes twice a month.” Cole lowered onto the couch. “Her guards don’t follow her in.”
“Twice a month?” His pulse raced. “When? Is it always the same days of the month?”
“Yes. Ten days from today, she’ll be there.”
Ten days? That’s an eternity.
Tate paced the length of the room, agitated. “You’re leaving in seven days.”
“I have another job.” Cole narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t want to be a part of whatever you decide to do after you confront her.”
“I’m not going to kidnap her.”
Cole glanced between him and Van, eyebrows arched. “If you say so.”
“Whatever. You already told us we’d be on our own.” He continued to pace. “Where does she go twice a month?”
“A sex club. That’s where you’ll make contact with her.”
“What?” Tate slammed to a stop.
“Don’t look so offended. You should feel right at home there.”
True, but… “What are you suggesting I do?”
“You’ll go in there, and if she’s willing, you’ll fuck her until she loses all logic and paranoia. Then you’ll put your mouth at her ear and say—”
“Thanks for the good time… Oh, and by the way, your sister’s alive?”
“Exactly.”
Tate closed his eyes and breathed, “That’s a terrible idea.”
CHAPTER 6
It was the worst idea ever. But as Tate walked to the X ten days later, he was all in. Shoulders back, weapons concealed, bullet-resistant shirt straining across his chest, he was battle ready.
Except the shirt wouldn’t protect his head. Or his dick.
Christ. There it was. The X.
The sex club didn’t have a name, but a huge black X marked the otherwise nondescript door—the only indication he’d arrived at the right place.
The temptation to glance back and scan the shadows for Van prickled his scalp, but he knew Van had followed him as planned, staying far enough back to not raise suspicion.
Cole left Caracas three days ago with the promise that he was only a phone call away. But who knew what part of the world he’d traveled to or how long it would take him to return?
Deep breath. Follow the plan. Don’t look sketchy.
Hell, every person he’d passed on the short walk here looked sketchy as fuck. Thankfully, no one approached him. Yet. The locals were probably taking their time scoping him out and gathering their buddies so they could gang rush him.
He slid his hands into his pockets and approached the door all casual like. Nothing to see here. Just going to a sex club to get laid.
To fuck Camila’s sister.
That was going to be hard to explain to Camila, but first things first. He needed to get inside, and once he walked through that door, he would truly be on his own.
Van was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater. His refusal to step foot in the sex club was as inconvenient as it was admirable. He was here to help Tate, but his wife was and always would be his number one priority. Tate respected that.
He knocked on the black X and removed a wad of bolivars from his pocket.
The door swung open, revealing a rangy Hispanic man with a cigarette protruding from the toothy gap in a scraggly beard. “Sí?”
Tate put the bills in the man’s hand.
“Sin armas.” The man motioned at Tate’s waistband, where his untucked shirt concealed a handgun.
Cole had warned him about the no weapons policy. There was also a no clothing policy, but the disrobing would take place inside.
He handed over the gun and pushed through the doorway until bony fingers circled his arm, stopping him.
“Sin armas.” The bearded man pointed his cigarette at Tate’s boot.
Fuck. He relinquished the knife from under his pant leg, certain he’d never see either of those weapons again.
Then he was free to go in.
The only doorway up ahead led him into a dim locker room. The tiled space was vacant, except for a lone woman sitting on the floor in the corner. As he stripped his clothes, she was more absorbed by the syringe in her arm than his nudity.