Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I realize I’m in a boat as it starts to slow down, and a minute or so later, I’m hauled over a shoulder again.
I manage to make out a bigger boat, and some control over my body begins to return. Bile churns in the pit of my stomach, and for a moment, it feels like I’m going to puke.
I’m tossed down on a hard surface, and the back of my head takes a knock, drawing another groan from me.
I have…to get…up.
My head rolls to the side, and I watch as men sit down on leather seats before the bigger boat starts to move.
Where are they taking me?
Finally whatever they gave wears off enough that I’m able to lift my head. Feeling sluggish, I pull myself up into a sitting position, bracing a hand on the deck.
“I thought you said she’s still out of it,” one of the men mutters.
“Should I shoot her up again?”
“Nah, the shit’s too expensive to waste on her.”
“Where…am I?” I ask, my voice slurred.
“The wide-open sea, baby.”
As my mind clears up more, I remember the drug dealers grabbing me and saying I have to pay off Mandy’s debt.
Oh, God.
The thought has my senses returning full force, and I glance around as I climb to my feet.
There are only three men on the boat with me. For an insane moment, I contemplate jumping overboard, but with my wrists tied, I’ll drown.
“Want to skinny dip?” one of the assholes ask before he bursts out laughing.
“No, thanks. It’s a bit too cold for that shit,” I mutter, feeling calmer than I should.
Losing my cool will only get me killed.
Jesus, I’m thirsty.
“Is there anything to drink?” I ask as I move to an open seat and sit down.
“No food and drinks on this cruise, baby,” one of them answers me with a smirk.
The wind is fucking cold, and it feels as if I’m turning blue, which has me snapping, “Is there a blanket or something I can use to keep warm?”
The one who talked to me the most nods his head at me. “She’s starting to annoy me. Shoot her up.”
“No!” I cry as an injection is dug out of a pocket. “I’ll shut up.”
One of the assholes gives me a evil-as-fuck grin before saying, “Too late.”
When I dart up, I’m knocked off my feet, and once again, I find myself face down as a needle is stuck into my arm.
Shit.
No.
“Stop.”
“I’ll shut…up.”
“D..on’t.”
The world warps, and suddenly, I don’t feel so cold anymore.
Dario
We’re an hour behind the fuckers, which has given them one hell of a head start.
The van stopped near a marina and is now heading back in our direction. Which could mean they either dropped Eden off or worse.
“Give or take twenty minutes until we’ll cross paths with them,” I mutter.
Carlo is behind the steering wheel, Damiano’s in the passenger seat, and I’m in the back with Angelo. Damiano glances over his shoulder and mutters, “You know how this goes, Dario. If Eden’s mother owes them money, they’ve probably handed her over to another crew who’ll make her work to pay off the debt.”
The thought had already crossed my mind, but I instantly shunned it. Having Damiano say it out loud makes a growl build in my chest.
My tone is filled with rage as I say, “Over my dead body, am I letting them use my woman as a prostitute.”
“It won’t come to that,” Angelo murmurs, his tone much calmer than I feel. “We’ll get to her in time.”
My eyes remain glued to the road ahead, and it takes way too fucking long before we see the van.
“Hold on,” Carlo mutters.
The next second he slams on the breaks as he makes a sharp turn.
All the SUVs behind us form a barricade in case the van gets past us.
I shove the door open, and as I climb out, I pull my two guns from behind my back, where they are tucked into my waistband. I raise my arms and train the barrels on the windscreen.
“Where the fuck is Eden?” I shout.
The drug dealers look stunned for a couple of seconds, then they pile out of the van.
I open fire, and I’m backed up by more shots being fired by my friends.
As one of the fuckers drops from a gunshot to the leg, I move in on him and step on his hand so he’ll let go of his gun.
The gunfire ends as abruptly as it started, and Carlo comes to haul the remaining fucker, who’s still alive, to his feet. He struggles to stand as Damiano nods for me to do my thing.
“What did you do with Eden?”
The drug dealer gives me a look filled with disrespect, which has me swinging my fist at his face.
“What did you do with my woman?” I ask again.
He spits blood out of his mouth, then mutters, “The bitch is gone.”