Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
My high heels clicked on the floor as I stepped toward him, the sound capturing his attention. He glanced up from his papers and immediately froze when he saw me. His shocked expression would’ve been almost comical if I hadn’t needed his help so urgently.
“My name is Evelyn Day,” I said quickly, wanting to plead my case before anything else happened. I had to maintain control of this situation, or everything could go very wrong, very quickly. “I managed to escape from the man who kidnapped me and brought me here. Could you please help me contact the American authorities so that I can go home?”
He stared at me for several long, painful heartbeats. Then he threw back his head and roared out a laugh.
My blood ran cold.
Instinctively, I took a step back. Rough hands grabbed my upper arms, trapping me in place.
“She said she’s American,” the quiet one said, his tone uncertain.
“I am,” I managed to say. Words were my only weapon. These men were armed to the teeth, and even if they hadn’t been, I didn’t have a hope of fighting my way out of here.
“I’m an American citizen,” I asserted again, struggling for calm as the older man got up from his desk and prowled toward me. “If you just contact the embassy in Bogotá, they’ll help me get home.”
The older one stopped on the edge of my personal space. This close, I could see that his eyes were a dark, forest green, but despite the rich color, they held no warmth. His buzzed hair was more salt than pepper, and weathered lines from long days in the sun aged his face. They might’ve been laugh lines, but the cruel amusement that creased the wrinkles made my flight instinct kick in.
I tried to twist free from the man who held me captive, but his hands clamped down hard enough to bruise.
“Maybe we should contact the embassy,” the quiet one said, still sounding uneasy. “There might be a reward for her return.”
“If you don’t have the stomach for this, you can leave,” the oldest one sneered.
“Let me go,” I demanded breathlessly, twisting in my captor’s iron grip.
The leader laughed. “You’re not going anywhere. Not for a while, at least.” He reached out and picked up a lock of my blonde hair, testing the texture of the silky strands between grubby fingers. “We’ll get more for her than the Americans would offer us. They don’t even know she’s here. Do they?” he asked me.
My heart sank. No one knew where I was, not even Massimo. I’d wanted to escape from him, but the fate that my assailants planned for me was far worse than being trapped with my dark protector.
“Take me to Adrián Rodríguez.” I tried to issue a command, but it came out as a rough plea. “He’ll tell you who I am.”
The older man’s brows lifted, and he laughed again. “So, now you know Rodríguez? I don’t think so.”
“She might.” The quiet one wasn’t as quiet anymore. He might prove to be my salvation. “We found her near his mansion. I don’t want to cross him.”
The one who had me in his harsh grip said, “Even if she does know him, she was running away from that area. She doesn’t belong to anyone.”
“Massimo Imperiale,” I said his name like a prayer to a guardian angel. I’d only just learned his surname when Stefano had introduced us to Adrián, but I hoped it held weight with these men. “I belong to Massimo.”
The leader shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
“This is a mistake.” My only advocate spoke up for me again. “I don’t want to be involved in this. Either the Americans will punish us, or Rodríguez will. Think about—”
Without so much as blinking, the leader drew his gun from the holster at his side, aimed, and fired.
I screamed at the close proximity of the gunshot. My ears rang, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the deafening noise or from the panic that crushed me. My advocate lay on the floor, blood pooling around his ruined skull.
“He was never cut out for this,” his murderer said dismissively. He set his gun on the desk behind him to free up both of his hands. His dirty fingers fisted in my silk dress, tearing the delicate material. “How much do you think we’ll get for her?” he asked my captor.
“Depends how much we fuck her up first,” he replied dispassionately. “Be careful with her face. She’s pretty.”
Another scream tore from deep inside my chest: a grating mix of impotent rage and primal fear. I lifted my knee and then brought my high heel down hard on the top of my assailant’s foot.
He barked a curse, and his grip on me loosened. I wrenched my arms free from his grasping hands and lurched toward the exit, desperate to get out of this nightmare.