Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Gomes, you look really uncomfortable.”
He’s sniveling; tears and snot are running down his face. It’s an ugly look for him. “Let me go,” he pleads. “I know nothing.”
“The thing is, we kind of know that’s a lie.” I give a nod to Mendoza, who relays the silent order to his whip man. The leather sails out, and now that I’m closer I see there is a granite ball at the end. It makes another thud as granite strikes granite, the small column of flesh doing little to cushion the impact. Even though I’m expecting the blow, I still cringe—but maybe that’s due to the high-pitched scream coming out of Gomes’s mouth.
As sadistic as this is, though, it’s the right punishment if you believe in the eye-for-an-eye concept, which Mendoza clearly ascribes to. Gomes is slobbering now. “Why Regan?” I ask.
He turns slightly, his eyes unfocused with pain. “Hudson likes blondes. They remind him of his wife. But this one, so mouthy. Hudson sends her to me for training.”
“Then what?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it.
“Bad choice,” I counsel, and look up to Mendoza. The ball falls again, and this time I’m prepared. I don’t think Gomes is, though. We wait until the pain and screams subside, and I ask him again. “What happens when the girls are trained?”
“They go back into his compound. They serve as his companion until . . .” Gomes trails off, but we can all finish his sentence for him.
Mendoza waves his hand and the men disappear and the kids go back to kicking their soccer ball.
“There’s your way in,” he says with a pointed look toward Regan.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not happening. We’ll think of something else.”
“There is no other way,” Petrovich argues.
I look at Regan because right now she’s the only one who matters. I don’t want to leave my sister in the hands of Hudson, but I can’t send Regan back to be raped again. I won’t. There’s another way. I have to figure it out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
REGAN
Daniel’s got an awful look on his face. It’s the look of despair, of a man who’s backed into a corner and has no way out.
He can either send me in to Hudson’s hell in the hopes of getting his sister or he can forget about her. Either way, he’s miserable. He shakes his head again at Mendoza. “Fucking forget it, man. I just got Regan out of there. No way in hell am I sending her back to that sadist.”
The big Russian, Vasily, only looks over at me, as if waiting for me to interject. To him, I’m another playing piece, one that is obviously only useful on my back. He’s not wrong, though. I’m the one mucking up all the works here. I’m the one who slowed Daniel down. If it wasn’t for me, would he already have his sister back?
“How long?” I ask.
“Regan, no.” Daniel’s voice is furious. “I’m not sending you back in to be raped—”
I move to his side and pat his arm, trying to soothe him. He’s practically bristling at my suggestion, and I know he hates it. “We didn’t come this far to turn around, Daniel. I can do this.”
After all, what’s one more rape in my logbook? I don’t say that out loud because I know if I do, Daniel will shut down entirely. I want to do this for him. For him and for his faceless sister who’s stuck in the same hell I was in for so long. I can’t let her stay there, just like I can’t let Daniel give up.
“Fighter, no,” Daniel’s telling me in a soft voice. He touches my cheek, oblivious to the eye roll Vasily is sending our way. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” I say softly and bite the tip of the thumb he strokes across my lip. “But you’re going to come get me, right?”
“I’d fucking die before I left you in there,” Daniel says, and the intensity in his eyes tells me it’s the truth.
“Then we do this,” I say. I turn back to Mendoza. I’m still surprised to see that the man running this weird military compound full of families and children is young and handsome, and he could be on the cover of GQ. Well, maybe more like Guns & Ammo, but he’s still pretty. He’s thick with muscles and deeply tanned, his hair a dark buzz against his scalp. His eyes are this fascinating shade of amber I’ve only seen on models.
My friend Becca would eat him up.
Then again, fuck Becca.
Mendoza regards me for a long moment, waiting to see if I’m going to lose my shit. When I return his gaze, calm and easy, he nods. “A day at the most.”
“A day?” Daniel explodes. “A full day? No. Absolutely not—”
“What is plan?” Petrovich interrupts, his accent thick and calm. “Send her in with poison?”