Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
The guy named Spidey returned just as fast and bent down to unlock Kestrel’s ankles before doing the same to his wrists.
“Good. Let’s go. Get in the van.” The man in charge ushered Kestrel to the van's sliding door while the other three men continued to scan the area. These men were well-trained by some branch of the military, though they weren’t with the U.S. armed forces now. Still, they were definitely former military. Same as Kestrel.
Kestrel jumped into the van and slid across the seat. Two seconds later, all four men were inside as well. Spidey slapped the dash. “Go.”
The man in charge drove. One of the guys who’d taken the third row of seats tossed jeans and a T-shirt over the seat. “Change. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
Kestrel quickly kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his khaki sweatpants and T-shirt. He lifted his ass to pull the jeans on and then donned the navy T-shirt. “Where are we going? Who are you?”
The van was moving fast. Damn fast. It also pulled off the main road in minutes. The guy sitting next to him slid the door open before turning toward Kestrel and handing him a strange gold coin. It wasn’t any type of currency. It was too large and didn’t have a denomination or a country imprinted on it—just a swirly design.
“It’s your lucky day. You’ve been rescued. You’ll repay your debt when the time is right. This is your marker.” The guy jumped down from the van. “Hurry.”
Kestrel slid out after him, confused, dumbfounded, shocked. A helicopter sat twenty yards away in the dirt. The pilot started it up at that moment, kicking dust up around them and making Kestrel cover his eyes.
“Good luck,” said his strange rescuer as he climbed back into the van.
The van sped away as Kestrel ducked his head and rushed toward the helicopter. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He had no idea what the hell was going to happen next, but he wasn’t going to die in a Mexican prison.
Chapter One
“Mamá…” Zara Lynch de Flores paced back and forth in her bedroom, hands on her hips from anger she wasn’t used to flaring. “This is a horrible idea.”
“This is the only feasible option, mija.”
Despite her irritation, her mother’s endearment made her smile. The blend of the Spanish words for “my” and “daughter” demonstrated the close bond between the two. Her mother scurried toward the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and tossed it on the bed. “You’re leaving for New Zealand tomorrow morning. Let’s get you packed.”
Zara sighed. “What if I don’t want to go to New Zealand? That’s on the other side of the earth.” Born to an American mother and a Mexican father, Zara had spent all twenty-two years of her life shuttling back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico. She hadn’t been to any other countries.
Her father was wealthy. He owned his own textile company. Her mother had a business degree and also worked for the company. Zara had grown up playing and helping in the factory and knew all the processes like the back of her hand. She’d never questioned continuing to live with her parents in their gated home. They were her everything, and Zara had never wanted for anything.
There was just one problem. She had been born cursed with all her mother's and father's best features. If she had a peso for every time someone had stopped on the street and stared at her before telling her how pretty she was, she could buy a small island. She’d learned quickly to always look down when she walked to hide her features.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, mija, but your safety is the most important thing. Your father will do everything in his power to put an end to this threat on your life as soon as possible. In the meantime, you’ll go to New Zealand, lie low, and use my maiden name only. Dropping the ‘de Flores’ will allow you to blend in better and give you a bit more anonymity.” Even though her mother was American, she was as perfectly bilingual as Zara, and she’d called her daughter mija from the time she’d been born, just like any other Mexican mother.
Zara stared at her mother as the woman filled her suitcase. “To do what? Where will I be staying?”
“It’s a resort. It’s called Danger Bluff.”
Zara chuckled sardonically. “A resort? How on earth will I be safe there? You sound like you want me to go on a long vacation. That’s not my style, Mamá. I just finished my studies at the university. I want to get a job, not go on vacation.”
“One of your father’s oldest friends owns the resort, mija. You’ll be safe there. He guarantees it. I know you had your heart set on starting your career, and you can still do that. It’s just on hold. Temporarily. I promise.”