Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
With a little exasperated growl, I fisted the chain and jerked at it. My only reward was an aching palm where the metal links bit into my skin. I reached for the padlock that kept the chain tethered to the ringbolt in the bedpost. I pulled down sharply, trying to break it.
I didn’t have a hope of snapping the lock on my own. I might have been able to pick it, but I’d need tools for that. I stood and tested my range of movement. I could walk exactly two steps away from the bed before the collar tightened around my throat. Even if I stretched and reached my arm out to the point of discomfort, I couldn’t touch the chest of drawers. There was no guarantee that the keys to the locks were kept in there, but it was my best bet.
After a few minutes, I sat back down on the bed, frustrated. I might as well be in the cage, for all the freedom I had.
I shivered and pushed that thought away. My situation was dire, but at least I hadn’t been caged like an animal.
Gatita. Andrés had called me a kitten. I might not be familiar with much Spanish, but I knew that word from elementary classes in the language when I was young.
Did he really see me as some sort of unruly little pet he could train into obedience?
The way he’d touched my body made it very clear that he saw me as a woman.
But I fully suspected he still intended to train me. He’d claimed that I belonged to him. At least, I would until Cristian decided to let me go.
He had to let me go. He’d given me to Andrés to get the truth out of me, and I’d convinced Andrés that I was a federal agent. He’d said he believed me. Surely he’d talk to his brother, and Cristian wouldn’t be so reckless as to keep me captive?
I’ll get out of this, I thought desperately. I might not currently be able to escape on my own, but my friends would either locate me, or the Moreno brothers would see reason and release me before the full power of the FBI came down on them.
How had it come to this? Before yesterday, I hadn’t really stopped to think about how dangerous the Moreno brothers were. I’d been focused on Division 9-C. They were the big, scary bad guys I was targeting.
I hadn’t realized how big and scary Andrés was. I hadn’t even considered him at all. I’d known Cristian was dangerous, but I’d only been peripherally aware of his little brother.
But I’d been taken from my home, captured. And given to Andrés.
I shuddered at the thought of his scarred face and hulking body, my heartbeat ticking up as panic rose. He’d return at some point soon. I’d need to be prepared, to either route my escape or reason through how I’d convince him to release me.
I took several deep, calming breaths and continued to assess my prison. Turning to my analytical brain was much easier than facing my animal emotions.
The floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one bedroom wall revealed a stunning view of the Chicago skyline. It was beautiful, but unsettling to be so high up. Even if I somehow got free from the collar, I couldn’t escape through a window. No doubt, plenty of Andrés’ men stood between the suite and the building’s exit. I hadn’t been able to fight off the single man who was holding me captive, so the prospect of facing down an unknown number of adversaries didn’t exactly sound like a good plan.
That non-plan was pointless, anyway, because I was chained to the fucking bed.
The click of the door latch disengaging made me scramble for cover. I hastily snatched up the tangled bedsheet and barely managed to clutch it to my chest before the bedroom door swung open.
A girl stood at the threshold. No, not a girl. A woman, although barely. The too-thin blonde couldn’t be more than twenty, but her dull green eyes belonged to a much older woman. If she gained a few pounds, her body would have been model-perfect, a fact which was made clear by the plunging neckline of her skintight red dress. As it was, her breastbone stood out at the center of her chest, and her cheeks were nearly as hollow as her deadened stare. There was no emotion in her eyes whatsoever. If she’d been afraid, I could have assumed she was a fellow captive here. If she’d been hopeful, maybe she might have been an ally here to rescue me. Even disdain would have indicated something useful; it would have identified her as an enemy.
But there was nothing behind her eyes. They were a lovely, forest green, framed in long, dark lashes. No matter how physically striking she may be, it was difficult to look at her.