Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
My first job is to locate the guards. Thankfully, they make it easy. Obviously drunk, they’re loud and obnoxious, shouting at one another and jostling each other outside the entrance to the cave. They’re so full of themselves, they don’t hear me coming. I stand behind a tree as my phone lights up.
Santo: Cousins are five minutes out. Show location
I text him a picture of where I see them.
Me: How will I know cousins?
Santo: Look like this. Shorter one’s Timeo, one with the beard is Sergio.
He sends me two pictures of seriously hot guys that do have a bit of the Rossi flare about them. Sergio’s behind the wheel of a race car. I wonder if he follows these races like Mario. Timeo is shorter but not by much, and both men are sturdy, stockier than the Rossis, muscled and tatted and obviously rich. They all look like they could walk down an Italian runway.
Maybe I could handle associating with these guys.
Me: Got it, thanks.
I’m thankful for my training, thankful I can move without being noticed or heard as I make my way to the mouth of the cave. I hear a rustling nearby and come to a stop, my heart hammering in my rib cage. A pair of innocent doe-eyes stares at me from beneath the shade of the cypress. I wave my hand to tell her to go away, to not get caught in the line of fire. I watch as she crashes through the woods, startled by my rapid hand movements. The sounds within the cave cease.
Someone pokes his head out. Clouds part overhead, and a sliver of moonlight illuminates the side of his face. Peterson, an exact match to the image I found online. “Chuck? Johnny? Bill?”
“Over here, boss. Chuck and Billy.”
Not Italian names, or not common ones anyway. Americans, like Peterson.
“Johnny?” he yells, louder.
When he gets no response, Peterson curses under his breath. “Fuckin’ find Johnny,” he orders before he goes back inside the cave.
Good. He knows one of his guards is gone. He should be getting scared right about now.
The two other guards, large, lumbering guys, start to walk toward me. Twigs snap as they draw closer, but I’m hidden in the shade of a cluster of trees near the cave’s entrance. Still, I don’t breathe until they’re so close to me I can see their breath in the cool night air.
“Freeze. Hands in the air.”
I keep my voice low and my gun high as I stand. One of the guys obeys, but the second laughs. “I’m supposed to be scared of a pretty little—”
I slice him with my knife before he can finish the sentence. He grabs at his arm, blood pouring over his fingers as he falls to his knees. He lunges for me, but I give him another slash of my knife to match the first. He howls with rage and pain. I move rapidly because I know that Peterson will come out when he hears the commotion.
The other guy whimpers as he stands with his hands above his head. I shove him to his knees, restrain him with a pair of handcuffs I find hanging from a loop on his pants, and shove him to his side. I cut the other guy so he’ll bleed and experience debilitating pain, but they’ll get him to a doctor before he bleeds out.
I gag both men so they don’t shout again, thankful our altercation was brief. If Peterson heard them, he apparently has other, more important things to do before he investigates, since he hasn’t shown his face.
Good. I use the lull to flatten myself against the wall of the cave, my hand on my weapon. There’s an opening on the side of the cave like a window. My body still flush against the cave, I peer inside as quietly as possible.
Ah.
I see Mario, obviously beaten, tied to a chair. His wrists are bound behind his back. Peterson paces in front of him, shaking his head and cursing as Mario sits as straight as an arrow, giving one-word answers in reply. Clearly, whatever mental game he’s playing is working, as Peterson seems more and more agitated.
I stifle a gasp when a hand wraps around my arm. I look up to see familiar faces.
“Sergio?” I whisper. He nods and gestures to his brother. “Timeo.”
“You must be Emma.”
I swallow and look away. “Yeah. He’s in the cave. I’ve neutralized all three guards, now it’s just Peterson and Mario in there, to the best of my knowledge.”
“Well done, little detective,” Sergio approves. I roll my eyes at the “little detective.” I probably have more experience and training than him and his friends. Still, it feels good to have someone to back me up.
“Plan?” Sergio asks. They’re asking me.
I love that.
“Get Peterson out here. Neutralize him, then interrogate while we’re all conveniently here.”