Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Electricity to the house was kept on to power the security cameras and satellite. The latter allowed him to contact Cole. But the moment he hiked out of range of the house, the outside world would be inaccessible.
That was ideal for what he had planned.
He couldn’t kill her right away, and considering the seemingly harmless, but insidious manner in which she’d been spying on him for ten goddamn years, he knew it would take some effort to crack her.
So when she’d stopped breathing against his hand, he’d resuscitated her.
“Did you receive the photo I sent of her?” He swept his gaze over the unconscious body, ignoring all the sinful dips and curves and focusing on the fragile bones that would shatter beneath his fists.
“Yeah, I got it,” Cole said. “She looks dead. Tell me she’s not.”
He crouched beside her and touched the pulse point on her throat. “She’s not. For now.”
“Listen up. If she has copies of your emails, you need her alive and compliant. Don’t fuck this up. The lives of your entire team are on the line.”
Of course, he fucking knew that. He’d made a mistake sending those emails. A horrendous, mortifying mistake that started when he was seventeen. He hadn’t known any better then. But he couldn’t use that excuse ten years later.
He would fix this.
“She’s not carrying ID?” Cole asked.
“Nothing. I searched her pockets, her truck, and all the gear inside it. No phone. She even removed the license plates.”
“She’s smart.”
“She doesn’t look so smart now.” He glared at her sulky lips which, just moments ago, had been sucking for air against his hand like a dying fish.
“Any tattoos, scars, or birthmarks?”
“None that I can see.”
“You haven’t stripped her yet?”
“I’m not a pervert.”
“Right.” Cole’s disbelieving tone grated. “How long ago did you knock her out? She shouldn’t still be unconscious.”
“I gave her a sedative.”
Cole didn’t need to ask where the tranquilizer came from. When Tomas and his roommates sold their house in Austin, Texas and moved to the Restrepo headquarters in Colombia, he’d transferred their weapons, electronics, burner phones, and medical supplies here, along with nonperishables, bottled water, and petty cash. It had been Cole’s idea. A precautionary measure to ensure the team had a safe house in Texas.
Tomas had enough equipment in this house to restrain and torture the woman for months.
“Okay, so next steps…” Cole exhaled into the phone. “I don’t condone the kidnapping of innocent—”
“She trespassed on my property, willingly walked into my house, and she’s far from innocent.”
“She’s guilty of invading your privacy. She hasn’t killed anyone.”
“That we know of. She has a cheating ex-husband.” He updated Cole on everything she’d said when she walked in. “I don’t know why she disclosed the details of the affair.”
“I’ll find out. Just stay put and keep her restrained.”
“Where are you?”
“Almost there.”
“What the fuck? No, turn back. You don’t need to be here.” Goddammit, he should’ve known Cole would show up. “I don’t need a babysitter or anyone to clean up my mess. I just need information, and you can dig that up at the headquarters.”
“I’ve been working with Luke and Tate for the past week trying to do just that. We scoured the IP addresses of all the activity on the email account. There’s no forwarded mail. No suspicious logins. She knows how to erase her tracks.”
“She’s in law enforcement.”
“Her email implied that, but it’s not confirmed. I’ll stop in El Paso to do some digging before heading your way. Might take me a few days. In the meantime—”
“I’ll call you when she starts spilling secrets.” Tomas hung up, seething with frustration.
He couldn’t stop Cole from coming to the house. But it didn’t matter. His plan to break down Rylee piece by piece would begin out there. He turned toward the open door, sweating in the heat that blasted in from outside.
Four hours until sunset.
He spent the next few minutes unloading her truck. On his way back inside, he tore off his sweat-drenched shirt and checked her breathing.
The cuff on her wrist attached to a chain that restrained her to a post. But she wouldn’t be waking any time soon.
He sat back on his heels and let himself fully look at her for the first time.
Long brown hair framed a pixie face. A tiny turned-up nose, cupid lips, and symmetrical features rounded out her delicate bone structure. Flawless porcelain skin and a toned physique gave her the appearance of a woman in her twenties. But she married twenty-three years ago? If that were true, Tomas would’ve been four at the time.
That would put her in her forties now. Hard to believe.
Maybe she had laugh lines when she smiled or crow’s feet when she squinted. But with the muscles relaxed in her face, there were no wrinkles or sunspots. No indication that she was older than him.