Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
If she could lure him to the edge of orgasm, she’d use his distraction to stab her thumbs into his eyes and crush the sockets. It was a plausible way to kill a man, right?
Problem was, after spending eleven years with him, he hadn’t shown a single moment of weakness.
Twenty minutes had passed since she received the injection, and the pain had retreated into the sickly place inside her. Her heart rate found a normal tempo, and feeling returned to her legs.
Tiago, who was always attuned to her state of health, nudged her off his lap. “Let’s go see to our newest victim.”
Her insides twisted anew.
He led her to the hall and waited as she dressed. When she tucked the Berettas in her jeans, she let her hands linger on the grips.
She could shoot him. His guards would fire immediately, probably before she even squeezed the trigger. But maybe, just maybe she could get a shot off before she died.
It was a hopeless paradox. On one hand, she wanted to die, ached to end the endless misery. On the other, if one of his guards aimed a gun at him, she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the traitor to protect Tiago.
If Tiago died, she couldn’t access his safe, didn’t know how to locate his doctors, and wouldn’t be able to find a cure before her organs failed. His death would bring the onset of hers, and as much as she wanted that, there was a brighter, stronger yearning inside her.
She wanted to live.
Her contradictory train of thought circled back to the armed guards. If she were willing to shoot his men to save Tiago’s life, the same must’ve been true for them. This wasn’t an operation rooted in loyalty. She suspected Tiago’s men were indebted to him somehow, and like her, it was in their best interest to keep him alive.
Tiago’s gaze fell to the vicinity of her hands on the Berettas at her back, and she tensed.
A ghost of a smile, deprived of amusement, touched his lips. “Try it, Lucia.”
“I’m not stupid.” She lowered her arms to her sides and stood taller.
“No, you’re not that.” Offering his arm, he escorted her to the basement and the kidnapped victim who waited.
CHAPTER 13
Two hours later, Lucia left the sobbing victim chained to the floor in the chamber. As she stepped into the hall and tossed the condom in the trash, she tried to embody the cold precision of a blade, sharpening her expression and steeling her posture. But despair swelled an unwieldy pressure behind her eyes, and every breath was a fight to keep the tears away.
Armando had been the cameraman, and as he followed her out, his probing, over-staring eyes produced a stampede of goosebumps across her nude skin.
“When are you going to milk my nuts?” he asked in Spanish.
The gun was already in her hand, so it only took a fraction of a second to aim at the nuts in question.
“Another time then.” With a grin, he lumbered toward the stairs.
She waited until he was out of sight before lowering the Beretta and pulling on her clothes.
Today’s victim was a middle-aged married man and father of five, who had come to Venezuela on a religious mission.
And she’d just raped him.
If she had any humanity left before she’d stepped into that room, she didn’t now. But despite the man’s wretched crying, he wasn’t broken. If his wife paid the ransom within three days, he’d live.
Lucia dragged the balaclava off her head and let it fall to the floor. She was the one who was broken, and if she lived three more days, she wouldn’t deserve it.
Footsteps approached from the stairs. She holstered both guns in her jeans and turned to find Tiago strolling toward her, flanked by two guards.
He gave her a cursory once-over. “Was it convincing?”
The victim had wept prayers to his god, begged for his virtue, cried for his wife to forgive him, and in the end, ejaculated in the condom, inside her, with a self-loathing howl. As far as torture went, he was emotionally wounded, and the camera caught every second of it.
“Yes.” She breezed past Tiago, anxious to escape the basement. “If his wife has the money, she’ll pay it.”
“I know why you did it.”
Her breath caught. Did what? Rape that man? Or did he know about the one she killed this morning? Oh God, did he find out about Tate?
She slowed her steps, arranged her features into a detached visage, and pivoted to face him. “What do you mean?”
“Leave us.” He swept a hand at the guards without looking at them.
The two armed men retreated to the stairs and closed the door, leaving her alone in the dark hall with Tiago.
The guns at her back suddenly felt heavy and threatening, like foreboding shadows looming behind her. There wasn’t a single time in eleven years when she was permitted to keep her weapons in Tiago’s presence without his guards. If this was a test, she was guaranteed to fail.