Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
My gaze turns back to the man in front of me and we lock eyes. There are gray strands in his black eyebrows. His black hair’s on the longer side, and lines form grooves on his face, telling me he’s easily over sixty.
He must’ve killed a lot of people in his lifetime.
He won’t hesitate to shoot me.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I find my voice, and when the words leave my lips, I’m surprised by how calm I sound.“My sister’s at home.”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing on me. “My informant told me you’re both at this party.”
My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips before I reply, “Your informant’s wrong. My sister is at home with a cold.”
His eyes leave me to glance at the other women, and I pray to all that’s holy, Ciara’s still between the shrubs. It takes all my willpower not to look over my shoulder to where I concealed her.
Stay down. Please.
“You’ll just have to fucking do.” Suddenly, the leader takes hold of my arm and orders loudly, “Move out!”
I’m tugged forward, and with every step I take toward the side of the house, the blood in my veins chills, and my muscles grow tenser.
When the front yard comes into view and I see one guard’s body after the other, my feet lock in position and refuse to take another step.
It’s weird. I don’t feel the heels pinching my toes anymore.
“Move!” the man barks.
Slowly, my eyes lift to his face, and I shake my head. “No.” The word is so soft, sounding more like a puff of air.
I have no idea how much time has passed since the men stormed the mansion, and somewhere deep in my mind, voices are fighting over whether I should do as I’m told or fight for my life.
God knows what comes over me, but I yank back against his hold on my arm. I know it’s no use to fight, but I refuse to submit so they can just take me.
Sadly, I can’t free my arm, and the moment I realize I’m done for, I expect my life to flash before my eyes. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, I feel an intense loss of the life I could’ve lived.
I brace myself, waiting for the gunshot, but instead, the barrel of a machine gun slams against the side of my head. Darkness dims my vision while a sharp pain instantly makes me feel dizzy and nauseated.
“Bring her!” I hear the one in charge order, his tone annoyed and cruel.
I fight to remain conscious as I’m hauled over someone’s shoulder. I manage to let out a groan, and weirdly, I’m aware of my hair swaying as I’m carried away from the mansion.
I hear voices rumble. Engines starting.
I’m tossed on a hard surface before I hear the trunk slam shut, plunging me into darkness.
Fear grips my heart as the vehicle starts to move, and I fight to keep my eyes open, but too soon, I lose the battle to remain conscious.
Chapter 2
GRACE
“Wake up.”
Someone taps my cheek, pulling me out of the peaceful darkness.
What?
I struggle to regain control of my senses as I pry my heavy eyelids open.
There’s a throbbing pain in my temple, and my vision blurs as I glance at my surroundings.
I make out the face of a man who’s dressed in a gray suit, his light blond hair cut short and neat. Behind him is an expensive-looking desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. The view beyond is dark, giving me the impression we’re in a high rise.
I find myself sitting on a chair, my wrists tied and my hands lying limply on my lap. There’s no sign of my shoes, and the dark red lace dress I carefully selected for the party suddenly feels too revealing. Even though my breasts are fully covered, the dress has a deep cleavage.
My lips part, but I can only manage a slur of incoherent words. “Wha…pening…”
The man’s palm cups my cheek, and he smiles sinisterly at me. “Welcome back.”
His accent is thick, and realizing I’ve been taken by the Russians, a dark and hopeless feeling coats my very soul.
The bratva is ruthless. Chances are good I’m going to die.
When he steps to the side, my gaze creeps over the office before stopping on a monitor that’s mounted against one of the walls.
Dad.
Seeing Dad’s face on the screen, my heartbeat instantly speeds up, and everything that happened before I passed out flashes through my mind.
Oh God. What’s happening?
“What do you want?” Dad barks, his features set in a grim expression.
The man in the suit shrugs. “Just the five missiles I already asked for.”
“I don’t deal in missiles.” Dad scoffs, his mouth turning down even more. “I’m good as dead if I supply the missiles to you. It’s Varga’s territory.”
“That’s not my problem,” the man in the suit says. He reaches a hand out to me and brushes strands of my hair away from my face. “Either you supply me with the missiles, or I’ll tear your beautiful daughter apart.” His fingers brush over my cheek, and I yank my face away from his touch. “I like my women feisty.”