Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
My mouth drops open, and before I can stop myself, I mutter, “That’s not creepy at all. ”
He lets out a chuckle that actually sounds amused.
Taking a chance, I ask, “What are you going to do with me?”
I hear him take a deep breath then he moves, coming closer to me. I climb to my feet and shove the covers onto the bed.
When he stops in front of me, I can make out his features, and I hate that he’s still attractive as hell and hasn’t morphed into the hideous beast he is.
Lifting a hand to my face, he grips my jaw tightly before I can yank away. He leans down until the terrifying thought that he might kiss me zips through my mind, but he stops an inch from my mouth, his eyes boring into mine.
“I’m playing around with a couple of ideas. Want me to run them by you? Maybe you can help me decide what to do with you.”
My body starts to tremble again, and I swallow hard on the fear this man makes me feel.
His thumb brushes over my jaw, then his hand slips down to my throat, and his fingers clamp tightly around my neck.
“At first, I fantasized about crushing your windpipe and watching you gasp for air until I squeezed the last air from your lungs.”
Jesus.
“But that means you’ll be dead. I won’t be able to torture you anymore.”
Again, I swallow hard, and I know he feels it.
He lets go of my neck and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I might keep you locked in this room for the rest of your life.”
That will be hell. I’d rather die.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “What do you think I should do with you?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I shake my head. “You don’t give a shit about what I think.”
A smile spreads over his face, making him look devilishly attractive. “Actually, I do.” A frown forms on my forehead, and it has him saying, “My little brother’s kidney is keeping you alive. How do you suggest you repay me?”
The guilt and heartbreak knock the air from my lungs, and tears jump to my eyes. My voice is hoarse as I say, “I’m so sorry they killed your brother. I never wanted someone to die so I could live. I would never have agreed to the surgery if I had known.”
He lets out a scoffing sound. “Do you expect me to believe you’d just go gracefully into the afterlife and give up the chance of getting a kidney?”
Without zero hesitation, I answer, “Yes.”
Renzo stares into my eyes until I fist my hands at my sides to keep from squirming.
“If you could turn back time, would you die so my brother could live?”
Again, I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
He takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly, then turning around, he walks to the door. “Follow me, topolina.”
What the hell is he calling me in Italian?
I walk behind Renzo as we head back to the room where Dad and Dr. Bentall are. My stomach coils with dread, and when I follow him into the room, I see there’s a bandage around Dad’s arm.
Surely Renzo wouldn’t give Dad medical care if he was going to kill him?
The thought has hope exploding in my heart, and I rush over to Dad, who’s struggling to his feet.
I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug, whispering, “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. What happened? Did he do something to you?”
“No. I just slept,” I answer.
“Enough with the little reunion,” Renzo says, his tone low and dark. “Get Dr. Bentall.”
The same guard from yesterday walks to Dr. Bentall and forces him onto his knees. The doctor who’s treated me for the past three years looks nothing like the educated and confident man I’ve gotten to know and trust.
His face is swollen badly from yesterday’s beating, and I feel sorry for him even though he committed an unforgivable crime.
“Any last words?” Renzo asks.
My eyes grow wide as saucers when the question registers.
No.
Dr. Bentall looks at Renzo and says, “I’ve devoted my life to saving people.”
“Yet my brother is dead,” Renzo snaps. “How many times did you buy an organ off the black market?”
“Not many,” Dr. Bentall answers. “Maybe seven or eight times.”
Renzo shakes his head. “Do you know they kill healthy children in Mexico for organ trafficking?”
Dr. Bentall remains quiet.
I didn’t know that.
Renzo reaches behind his back and pulls a gun from where it was tucked into the waistband of his pants. His fingers flex around the handle before he walks closer to Dr. Bentall.
I shake my head wildly as I shriek, “Don’t! Please, don’t kill him.”
Renzo’s eyes snap to me, and the next moment, the gun is trained on Dad. I dart in front of my father, keeping my arms wide open as if it would make me bigger.