Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
There were at least three men in the car. The driver and the two on either side of her. Yet no one spoke. As unnerving as it was, it made sense. If she escaped or was sold, their anonymity would protect them.
“I can’t feel my hands.” She squirmed between them and amped up the spasmodic sound of her whimpering. “What do you want from me?”
Jefe gripped her neck and angled her face in his direction. “Shut up.”
She considered throwing a spastic fit until the bite of cold steel touched her cheek. A knife? She made a noise in the back of her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, letting her body go limp in the collar of his hand.
The dull edge slid across her cheekbone, gliding upward and slipping beneath the blindfold. With a flick of his wrist, he cut through the scarf and pulled it away.
Her heart pounded as she squinted through the darkness and found Jefe’s black eyes watching her from the narrow opening of a black ski mask.
There was nothing noteworthy about those eyes. Were they even black? Hard to tell in the shadows of the car’s interior.
He tightened his grip on her throat, stopping her from turning her head. The mask covered his hair, face, and throat. A glance downward revealed an average-sized physique in a nondescript t-shirt. He could’ve been anyone.
Beyond the heavily tinted windows, murky fields blurred beneath a starless sky. Which direction were they headed?
His gaze flicked over her shoulder and locked on the other man. Then he shoved her head between her knees.
What the fuck? Bent in half, she got a good view of her filthy feet. They looked so tiny and sad between the men’s rugged boots.
She turned her neck to get a glimpse of the boar, but the fall of her hair blocked her line of sight. Fuck.
Jefe touched the blade to her skin again, this time on her wrist. The rope?
“P-please.” She sniffled then heaved a couple of shuddering breaths for good measure. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“Can you be a good girl?” Jefe trailed a finger down her spine.
“Y-yes. Please untie me.”
With his hand holding her head down, he cut the rope. The instant it fell away, she snapped her free arm forward and shook out her hand. Ah, fuck, it was so numb. But as the sharp biting sensations rushed in with the blood, it really fucking hurt. The shaking didn’t help, and her fingers refused to bend or move.
Her other hand, still attached to the boar, was pulled onto his lap. Jefe released her head, and she straightened, quickly shoving down the hem of the shirt and scanning her surroundings.
Instead of a mask, the driver wore a baseball cap that sat low on his brow. Brown hair? Caucasian? She couldn’t tell.
A three-lane highway stretched out ahead, surrounded by black smudges of farmland. No road signs in sight. If they weren’t heading back to the city, where the fuck were they going?
The boar’s strong fingers massaged her shackled hand, and the cuff on his wrist scraped against hers. The tingling receded, and warmth rushed in. She stifled a sigh and glanced at the hand she was shackled to.
A tattoo peeked out from the cuff of his sleeve. It was too dark to make out the design, but the ink looked faded and old.
Keeping her head lowered, she took in the casual recline of his posture. His legs spread wide, invading her space. He wasn’t oversized or boar-ish. Nor was he average.
His muscled thigh felt like stone beneath her wrist. The coarse material of his fatigues cupped an impressive groin, and the waistband rode low on his narrow hips. His shirt had inched up his navel, revealing a dark dusting of hair and deep indentions of abs.
The bastard was honed like a damn blade. Hopefully, his brain wasn’t as sharp.
She lifted her eyes, following the bulge of a bicep, the stretch of cotton over ridges of pecs, and…a ski mask. Mierda.
Despite the absence of light, the eyes staring back weren’t black. Pale hints of color streaked into inky rings. Gold? Blue? Green?
He watched her without blinking, his intensity edged with thick lashes. Something flickered in the depths. An emotion. She was sure of it. Did he want to fuck her? Kill her? No, it was more complex than that. Whatever it was made her heart pump and her mind scream, Look away.
But she couldn’t. Jefe might’ve been in charge of this team, but this man… He was up to something, and it lodged a boulder in her stomach.
The SUV stopped moving, breaking her trance. Beyond the windshield, the paved road ended at a field, and in the distance sat a small plane. The second Range Rover pulled up beside them and shut off the engine.
Guess I’ll be leaving Austin.