Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“If you scream when I remove the tape, you’ll only wake up my brother,” I said. “You know nobody can hear you. You know we threw out your phone on the way. Cooperation is your one shot at surviving this.”
I rose to my feet again and debated whether to pile on the lies—or if I should wait. I didn’t wanna cover too much ground before he’d brought things up himself, and chances were he’d be more resistant to having his mind fucked if I word-vomited. If I offered too many bullshit promises about how he could survive, he’d never believe me.
Mental torture was best served in small morsels.
That settled it. For once in my life, I could practice patience.
I closed the distance and grabbed a fistful of his hair as I peeled off a bit of the tape before I could rip it off.
He screamed the second I yanked, and I probably pulled enough hair from his head to make a wig.
I guessed the rip-the-Band-Aid method wasn’t good for duct tape.
“Son of a whore!” he yelled once his mouth was free.
“We had our problems, my ma and me, but she was by no means a whore,” I replied.
I let him get his issues out while I retrieved a bag of chips and one of the meal bars. Tomorrow, I’d pick up another chair somewhere too. For now, I had to settle for sitting on the ground in front of him.
I opened the bag of chips, plain salt—which was Shay’s favorite—and threw a few into my mouth. Maybe some fast carbs could wake up my hunger. Both Gray and Elliott had posted reminders in our chat about not forgetting to eat.
“I don’t have anything to fucking tell you,” Luiz spat out.
I twirled a finger and then dug out another couple chips. “Try again.”
I didn’t know how many times I’d found River and Shay with a bag of these chips—and Cokes—before breakfast. I was the one who made breakfast, but not until after I’d worked out, and if they woke up before I was done cookin’, they broke out the unhealthy snacks and sodas. Sometimes just to provoke me.
The shits had an unhealthy obsession with ramen cups too.
It wasn’t fucking food.
But what I wouldn’t give to go through that banter-filled morning routine with them again. Shay and River on the couch, me in the kitchen, River hollering the headlines from the news, Shay all cuddly and with a bed head.
Shay had changed everything for the better. He’d taught my brother and me that there was a life outside kink and work. We’d created that life—together. For the first time since River and I had been, what…sixteen, seventeen…? We had a family.
And they were worried sick too.
“I’ll make it real easy for you,” I said. “We wanna know where you’re holding Shay Tenley hostage. And Marisa Ortega and Blake Hayward.”
Three innocent people had been kidnapped because Elliott had done his fucking job and put a murdering coke dealer behind bars. It could’ve been any of us being targeted.
“I don’t know who they are!” Luiz growled. “You want coke? I got coke. I don’t get mixed up in human trafficking. Motherfucker—you gonna ice me for selling blow?”
I clicked my tongue and tried to use my nonexistent fingernail to get out a piece of potato chip that was stuck between my teeth. I fucking hated that.
“It’s never just blow with you guys,” I said absently. I eyed my ring finger nail, then automatically dropped my gaze to the gold band. We’re gonna find you, baby. “If it was only drugs, we wouldn’t have a problem.”
I didn’t know how many Luizs River and I had come across during our years in the field. They all said the same thing. It was only coke. Just some drugs. What was the big deal?
“The fuck do you know about it?” he snapped. “You think you’re some macho soldier, huh? Comin’ here with your guns and your Kevlar, but you don’t know—”
“I know that for every Luiz Gomez, there’s a Teresa Alvarez getting hurt,” I replied casually. “I know how y’all operate. I know you take advantage of vulnerable people to push your shit. You hold a gun to a young boy’s head, and suddenly his mother is willing to hop on a plane with balls of coke shoved up her privates. You burn down a man’s house, and that’s when he agrees to transport a ton of cocaine on a boat built for a fishing trip with the grandkids. What’s the goin’ rate for coercing a woman to smuggle a kilo into another country? Better yet, she’s pregnant. Y’all love the pregnant ladies, ’cause they’re less likely to get searched in customs. You sick fucks.” I shook my head and finally got the tiny piece of chip out from my teeth. “Don’t ever tell me it’s just blow. I’ve seen one too many drug mules die when the goods they carry inside themselves burst.”