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)
The blade looked lethal enough to carve through muscle, and as it lightly scraped across his chest, he was certain it would.
His heart drummed a furious tattoo. Chains restrained his arms, and broken ribs made every breath excruciating. He had no defense, no way to protect Lucia and Van. No way out of this.
Fear should’ve been a hulking presence inside him, but it was crowded out by unholy rage. Lucia lay on the floor in dangerous need of urgent care. She’d just surfaced from what must’ve been a seizure, one that had convulsed her muscles so violently it banged her skull against the concrete. Van, with his arms shackled, had managed to wedge a thigh beneath her head. Meanwhile, Badell had stood there and watched her suffer like a morally depraved psychopath.
How would they get out of this? With Van and him shackled and Lucia clinging to life, they needed a fucking miracle.
It would be eight hours before Matias realized there was trouble, and even more hours to organize a rescue party. Maybe Cole would suspect something since his call went unanswered. That wouldn’t help them, though. He was in another country.
“There are no contacts stored on your phone.” Badell set it on the metal table and met his eyes. “No call history.”
At Cole’s request, Tate had meticulously kept the burner phone wiped clean. Thank fuck for Cole’s counsel. The man had laid out plans for every emergency, including instructions in the event Tate was captured.
“I can give you a contact.” He hardened his expression, masking the pain in his ribs. “Call my brother.” He rattled off a predetermined phone number that would alert Cole of foul play. “You’ll get your ransom money.”
“Your brother?” Badell casually strolled through the room, clasping his hands behind him and twitching that deadly finger blade. “Your shirt repelled a bullet, and your companion”—he glanced at Van—“doesn’t carry a phone.”
Tate had destroyed all the phones but one before they left the apartment. He’d also had the foresight to protect their friends and family in anticipation of repercussions for taking Lucia out of Caracas. If Badell were to discover Tate’s identity, his friends’ lives could be threatened. So when he’d called Matias, Matias vowed to send his local guys to collect Liv and Josh, Amber and Livana, and all of Tate’s roommates. They should be safely on their way to Matias’ Colombian estate at this very moment.
“You have high-tech weapons and medical supplies.” Badell paused before him, head cocked. “But no IDs. No passports. Nothing to connect you to anything or anyone. We both know you won’t be providing your brother’s number.”
A knot formed in Tate’s throat. He’d given Badell too many reasons to be suspicious. The man might’ve been clinically insane, but he was smart. There would be no ransom demands, because he smelled the trap.
Across the room, Lucia’s whimpers grew louder. She rolled off Van’s lap and pulled herself across the floor, grunting and sobbing in her determination to get to Tate.
“Lucia, don’t.” He jerked uselessly against the restraints. “Stay where you are.”
“No.” Her legs dragged behind her, slowing her down, and she cried out in frustration.
It was gut-wrenching to witness, cracking things inside him that hurt far worse than broken ribs.
He gave Badell the deadliest glare he could manage for a man hanging in chains. “She needs medicine. A doctor.”
“Whether she gets that is up to you.”
“What do you want?”
“Tell me why you’re here. In Caracas.”
Given Tate’s weapons and the bullet-resistant shirt, Badell knew this wasn’t a pleasure trip. He also knew it was personal. He only needed to watch Lucia as she hauled herself toward Tate. Her anguished cries shuddered with heartbreak. And love.
Love.
She loves me.
The intensity of that realization sent waves of pain through Tate’s fractured chest. At first, he didn’t understand it. It made him feel desperate and terrified, but underneath the panic was something new, something wholly unexpected.
When she smiles, I feel a peace unlike anything I’ve felt in my life.
Van’s words hit him with soul-deep comprehension.
Lucia’s smile was his responsibility, his goal, his everything. Her life, her health, all of her was his to protect.
She didn’t belong to Matias or Badell or any other man. If anyone even thought to lay claim to her, he wouldn’t step aside. He wouldn’t back down. He would fucking fight for her with every breath in his body. She was his.
I love her.
Not the kind of love he’d flirted with before. What he felt for Camila paled in the dense, feral glow burning in his chest. This was deep, consuming, world-changing love. His past, present, and future, his entire existence took on new meaning.
His reason for everything was right here, in this room, dragging herself toward him. Her pain was his pain. Her tears, her happiness, her fate—all of it was his. Protecting her wasn’t an obligation. It was his purpose.