Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The realization made her uneasy. She swallowed back a bundle of nerves.
Minutes ticked by like hours until a couple of armed thugs appeared, glaring menacingly at EM Security, who also dripped weapons. One wrong move or one hot-headed maverick, and they could all be dead. Laila hated that her sister and Jorge were here, but there had been no dissuading Valeria.
The next man to enter the expansive, dilapidated reception area swaggered in, wearing a white shirt that accentuated his sun-roughened face. He had thick black brows over piercing dark eyes without a soul. He was younger than Laila had imagined and attractive in a sinister way. He was definitely dangerous. She resisted the urge to shudder.
“That’s Federico,” Valeria murmured just above a whisper.
Laila made a mental note to give him a wide berth.
Then an older man filed into the room next, leaning on a cane as if it was more a bother than a necessity. He was average height, average build, dressed like a college professor, minus the tweed jacket, in a crisp dress shirt, a bold blue tie, and a gray vest. He wore a simple wristwatch and had a piercing gaze.
Geraldo Montilla. He had aged since the last time Laila had seen him, but he still had a commanding air.
When he set eyes on Valeria, he stopped. Stared. His face changed. Softened? Then he clapped his eyes on Jorge. His stoic expression almost melted into something she couldn’t fathom on a man like him.
It seemed tender.
The old man swallowed. “Is that—”
“Yes,” her sister snapped.
There was an undercurrent between them she didn’t understand.
“Can I hold him?” The old man’s voice sounded both shaky and scratchy.
When Valeria hesitated, Laila shook her head. They had a plan. They needed to stick to it. “Not yet. Where is Trees? I want proof of life.”
Montilla’s gaze fell on her and his dark eyes turned cold. “There is the bitch who helped steal my car. Why should I let you live?”
Laila’s fear swelled. Her heartbeat surged. “Because I am also the one who made this meeting with your grandson possible. Now where is Trees?”
The drug lord sent Valeria a surprised glance, then motioned to one of his thugs. “Bring him.”
Laila held her breath as the armed man filed out the door, taking another with him. Silence ensued, and time seemed to stretch into infinity as she waited. Finally, the door scraped open again and the armed goons dragged Trees in.
He was alive! But Laila’s relief was quickly tempered by the sight of him. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth in shock.
Trees had a black eye nearly swollen shut, a busted lip, and a mottled contusion flaring at his temple. He stumbled in between the two guards, looking exhausted or disoriented. No, drugged. He’d been pumped full of something to keep him contained and he looked barely awake and upright. One shoulder hung awkwardly, as if it had been dislocated. He had cuts and bruises all up his muscled arms. His knuckles were torn and bloody. Somewhere along the way, he’d fought—hard.
When their eyes met, he suddenly jerked up and scowled. “Laila, you shouldn’t be here.”
She didn’t argue. He was wrong, but now wasn’t the time.
Instead, she turned to Hunter. By their previous agreement, he would do the talking from here. After all, Montilla was an old-school chauvinist. He wouldn’t take kindly to negotiating with her or her sister.
As Hunter approached, Montilla sized him up. “Mr. Edgington, I presume?”
Hunter nodded. “We’ve brought Victor Ramos. He’s nearby with guards, awaiting my instructions. After you’ve visited with your grandson, we’ll bring him to you. Then we will have fulfilled the terms of our agreement and you will return Mr. Scott.”
“Of course,” the old man returned smoothly. “I was promised fifteen minutes with Jorge first.” He turned to his armed guards. “Take Mr. Scott to the morgue in the basement until then. He will be unable to escape, and if he tries to shoot me again or Mr. Edgington reneges…well, he will already be in a morgue.”
Laila stiffened, and she whirled to Hunter. “If we cannot see him, they may continue to torture him.”
Hunter hesitated, then turned to Montilla. “I’m sending one of mine with one of yours to ensure Mr. Scott’s continued health.”
The old man shrugged as if he didn’t care, then motioned to one of his thugs, who grabbed Trees by his awkwardly dangling arm and tugged.
The agony that crossed Trees’s face made everything inside Laila twist with hate and rage.
Hunter also looked pissed off as he gestured to Matt. “Follow them.”
The cowboy nodded, and the three of them disappeared down a set of stairs on the far side of the room, into the darkness beyond the handful of portable lights EM Security had rigged for this meeting.
Then Montilla snapped his fingers. An armed goon produced a folding chair. The drug lord ambled to it and sat, then turned his attention to Valeria, his stare drilling into her. “Bring the boy to me.”