Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Can you talk to Royal for me?”
“You’re a grown man.”
“He gives me grunt work. He doesn’t respect me.”
“Getting your big sis to speak for you is a sure way to earn it.” My voice is as dry as my merlot. “Look, Gino, being family only gets you so far. You have to start from the bottom and work your way up.”
“You didn’t.”
“I went to law school.” Again, with the hand waving. Anything to drive my point into my brother’s stupid, beautiful head. “And even then, I had to work my way up.” How many hours did I spend doing grunt work for the senior partners? I can’t explain one hundred-hour work weeks to Gino. He couldn’t compute.
I’m rubbing the bare spot above my breasts again.
Gino pouts. It was cute when he was younger, but a man of his age shouldn’t do it. “But you–”
A slight breeze has me throwing up a hand to interrupt Gino and turning to spot the source of fresh air. I shut and locked every door earlier. “What’s that?”
I head to the front hall and curse. The front door is wide open. “Gino, what part of ‘safe house’ do you not understand?” I slam the door and lock it. I hover my finger over the screen pad of the highly sensitive alarm system but don’t set it. Knowing Gino, he’ll decide to walk onto the deck and set it off accidentally. I’ll wait to arm it until after he’s gone.
“Of all the stupid, idiotic—yes, I know those are synonyms—things to do, you—” I return to the kitchen, but Gino is gone.
“Gino?”
No answer. It’s like he disappeared. Probably poking around, looking for the hard liquor. He’s good at finding what he wants when he puts his mind to it.
I grab my glass and swig some wine. Night has fallen, and the house is full of darkness. I usually keep most of the lights off, and I’ve never felt like the inky corners were hiding anything sinister.
Tonight is different. I’m still on high alert from the phone call and Gino’s surprise visit. I flip on the overhead, brighter kitchen lights. That’s when I notice the counter is empty. My Sig Sauer is gone.
He’s here.
Victor has come for me.
7
Lula
I whirl and race to the safety of the front entrance.
I sense rather than hear an explosion of movement behind me, the shadows separating, convalescing, becoming a man. Becoming Victor.
The door looms ahead of me. I’m so close. Five more steps, and I’ll hit the alarm. Then I’ll unlock the front door and escape to safety.
Three more steps. Two. One—
A strong arm wraps around my front, wrenching me back against my attacker’s giant frame. I struggle but am pinned. My bare feet kick ineffectively.
A deep voice purrs in my ear. “Vera. Or should I say, Lucrezia.”
The bottom falls out of my stomach.
He knows. He knows my real name.
He knows everything.
There’s a story among hunters that the instant prey knows it’s about to die, it surrenders. I mean to fight, but something in me relaxes against my captor. Recognizing the rightness of his embrace.
But no. I need to fight. Before I start thrashing in earnest, something pricks my neck. A needle. I’d slap at it like a stinging insect, but I’m clamped in Victor’s hold. In the next second, darkness rushes over and pulls me under.
I hear a leaky faucet somewhere nearby. Water falling from a great height into an empty sink. In the dead quiet of the room, each drop lands with a sound as loud as a gong. Plink. Plink. Plink.
That’s why it’s called water torture. Grab a prisoner, restrain him, and wear him down.
I blink and blink, but my surroundings are nothing but fuzzy shapes. A bright light overhead. A cold, hard, flat surface underneath me. I go to move, but my ankles and wrists are tethered. I’m splayed like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, all my vulnerable bits exposed.
A shadow falls over me, and I flinch, but there’s nowhere to go. I might as well be a corpse, dead on a slab.
I probably will be one shortly. Right now, my cousin Royal is tearing through the safe house. Will he find Gino? Or Gino’s body? I do feel regret. I didn’t do enough to protect my brother.
Never mind that my brother is a grown man, and I’m in a worse predicament than him. My future promises to be full of blood, bright lights, and lots and lots of pain.
The shadow over me hasn’t moved. It’s a source of warmth, though, and part of me wants to strain closer. “Drink,” Victor rasps and sets something at my lips. A straw. I suck down liquid because my throat is screaming for it. Too late, I realize that he could be drugging me again. But no, if he wanted to drug me, he’d just stick another needle in my neck. There’s a certain cold logic to fatalism. I can guess well enough why I’m here.