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)
He removed the condom and sat back on his heels, letting her see the honesty in his eyes as she processed his words.
She lay there for a moment, breathless, unmoving. Then she pushed off the cushion, limbs loose and face relaxed. Her hands slid up his chest, and her body followed. It was strangely sensual and totally not the reaction he expected.
Curling her fingers through his hair, she kissed a path from his mouth to his ear and whispered, “If you want to live, do not follow me.”
With that, she rose from the couch and strode out of the room.
CHAPTER 9
Lucia leaned over the toilet in her dark apartment and spit the last of the bile into the bowl. There were traces of blood in her vomit, but it wasn’t uncommon. At least tonight’s sick spell hadn’t been debilitating. Now that her stomach was empty, she felt almost healthy. Almost. It would take a while before her heart slowed down. It’d been hammering uncontrollably since she sneaked out of the sex club two hours ago.
Camila’s alive and well and living with Matias.
Was it possible? Yes. But not likely. If her sister lived, Tiago would’ve found her. Because above all, he loved collecting ransoms and had searched long and hard to find someone willing to cough up money for Lucia.
The fact that he hadn’t killed Lucia was a mystery that tormented her daily. She was the only exception he’d ever made, which was why she didn’t take risks, didn’t do anything that would give him a reason to end her life.
Until tonight.
The first thing she did when she exited the club was slip past her guards. They didn’t see her leave through the back door, didn’t know she hid in a nearby building, waiting for the American.
When he’d finally emerged, she’d tracked him to his apartment. Not just him. Another man had trailed the American, keeping a block of distance between them. They were smart to not walk together—made it easier for them to protect each another. But they weren’t smart enough to sense they had a tail.
Once she’d learned where they were staying, she returned to the club, sneaked back in, and walked out the front where her guards expected her.
Then she had no choice but to go home. Any diversion from her routine would’ve been reported to Tiago. Under no circumstances could he find out Camila might be alive. Even if her sister had the funds to pay a ransom, it would only end in devastation.
Camila’s alive and well.
Why would the American lie about that? Was he in contact with Camila? Did her sister know she was alive? If not, she had to stop that man from telling her, whoever the hell he was.
Kissable, commanding, well-endowed, insanely, wildly attractive—he was all those things. Good God, she’d never been fucked like that. The power he’d wielded, the gravelly rumble in his voice, and the poise in which he’d seduced her had turned her into a carnal creature intent on wringing every last drop of seed from his body.
She wasn’t even close to being done with him.
The next few minutes was a whirlwind of determination. She flushed the toilet. Brushed her teeth. Kicked off her heels. Pulled on the boots. The Berettas sat snugly between her tailbone and the waistband of her jeans. She would definitely need those.
There were no windows in her apartment. No other doors. Just a mattress, open bathroom and kitchenette, and a closet.
The closet. As quietly as possible, she removed her meager belongings from within it.
It’d been a couple years since she’d slipped her guards, and she was about to do it for the second time tonight.
God help me.
The closet now empty, she stepped inside and dragged her fingers down the back corner, prying at the hidden seam.
Years ago, she cut a narrow passage in the wall and used it to sneak out. She was more tenacious then. Braver. But that was before the gruesome incident with that poor doctor. Her chest tightened.
She wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Wouldn’t leave the neighborhood. Wouldn’t try to make contact with the outside world. She was just going to pay the American a visit, threaten him at gunpoint, and would be home by dawn.
The wood paneling creaked as she slid it open. The worried whine of a dog sounded on the other side, and she hurried through, squeezing between the gap in the vertical wall supports and stepping into her neighbor’s closet.
Franchesca didn’t own much before she was robbed, but as Lucia crept into the dark one-room unit, the space looked cruelly bare.
A furry ball on short legs scurried toward her. She scooped up the dog before it started barking and patted its head.
“Franchesca?” she whispered, approaching the sleeping silhouette on the mattress.
When her neighbor popped her head up, Lucia handed over the dog and held a finger against her lips, demanding silence.