Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“How do you know she swam ashore?” Drake asked.
“Just a guess, but she’s wet, so I’m guessing she swam from somewhere. Then again, it is pissing down out there.”
“She’s wet, huh?” Drake’s disgusting chuckle made violent rage burn through me.
Fuck him.
Fuck ALL of them.
“So her ride kicked her overboard, or did she jump?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” a mercenary grumbled. “I don’t know the logistics, Sinclair, only that she’s here.”
She was supposed to be safe.
She was supposed to stay away.
She was supposed to fucking run!
A grunt fell from my control, making Drake chuckle as his footsteps came closer. “Hear that, Sullivan? I think we have a visitor.” He rattled the bars of my prison, sending sound waves through my chilli-blocked ears and making my body flinch.
Everything was more intense without sight.
My body scrambled and instincts a mess.
The rustling of his clothing as he squatted by my head made me twitch. I could no longer tense before a blow or prepare for a strike. I couldn’t see what the hell would happen.
He had me at my most vulnerable, and he fucking knew it.
He tapped my cheek, making me recoil and blink agonising blind eyes. “Do you want to say hi, baby brother? Think she’ll find you a fucking turn-on in your current broken condition?”
I bared my teeth. “Touch her and I’ll rip your cock off with my bare hands.”
“Promises, promises.” He patted the top of my head. “Tell you what, I’ll go welcome her. You’re in no fit state for company, and you need your beauty rest.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, ensuring it slithered through my skull and made me snarl. “I’ll be gracious...I promise.”
I struggled in my cuffs and rope, activating bruises and blood, agony and torment. “I’ll give you the goddamn elixir recipe. I’ll sign whatever you want.”
“Maybe later, Sullivan. Right now, I have a date.”
The sound of his shoes was the worst goddamn thing I’d ever heard.
The slam of the door closing was the guillotine on the end of my life.
Eleanor...
Run!
Chapter Twenty
THE THUNDERSTORM CEASED ITS downpour just as Drake Sinclair appeared at the top of the beach. Raindrops transformed to a gentle drizzle, clouds switched to grey, and muggy humidity sprang back into existence.
I’d tried to escape, but the guard who was holding me outweighed me and outpowered me ten to one. I struggled again, wriggling and furious, as Drake walked down the beach toward me, flanked by two men in matching black combat uniforms.
For a millisecond, my heart was confused.
The way he moved reminded me of Sully. The svelte prowl, the masculine stride. But that was where the similarities ended. Both had dark, thick hair, but Drake kept his trimmed to his skull while Sully’s was untamed with bronze tips. Drake’s eyes were blue but not ravishing sapphires like Sully’s...more like a murky puddle. Sully’s lips were full and shapely, a sinful mouth that made cursing decadent and kisses depraved, while Drake’s were thin and permanently pursed as if he’d smelled something offensive.
The more I studied him, the more I saw differences instead of family resemblances. Sully had a natural weathering around his eyes, granting him a distinguished sex appeal. His nose was straighter, his cheekbones sharper, and his five o’clock shadow etched his jaw with delicious danger.
Drake, on the other hand, looked...strange.
His forehead didn’t hold laugh or frown lines. His eyes stretched with no wrinkles. The skin around his lips and down his neck shone from cosmetic enhancement.
Sully looked thirty-three. He embraced every bit of his age, and it made him undeniably attractive. Drake had attempted to harness aging and reverse time, and instead, he’d made himself a caricature. An evil villain who played his part far too well.
“Hello, Eleanor Grace. What a pleasure to finally meet you.” Drake bowed and narrowed his eyes at the man holding me. The guy released me, shoving me at Drake.
I stumbled and bared my teeth, recoiling from his body before touching him.
His hand lashed out, catching my wrist, bringing my knuckles to his lips and kissing them as if this was some rehearsed tea party. “I see why my baby brother has fallen madly in love with you.” His gaze travelled over my figure, highly visible thanks to my dress plastering itself to my curves. “Nice tits, nice hips, and I’ve heard you know how to beg for cock.” He chuckled. “A perfect woman.”
God, the urge to scream at him became almost unbearable, but just like the traffickers in Mexico, this man was nothing to me. He was chewing gum under a table, a cigarette butt in the gutter. He was utter trash, and I wouldn’t waste one damn word on him.
His eyebrows flared toward his trimmed hairline as his fingers released me. “Shark got your tongue, Eleanor Grace?”
I bit my tongue for good measure.