Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“The bathtub overlooks the side garden. Take a look.”
My cheeks colored and I moved away from the shower, turning to the tub and stopped short when I saw the woman, tucked on her side in the bottom of the huge Jacuzzi. Black dress pants and a matching blazer. Dark red pumps, tucked against one side. Wrists and ankles bound in thick duct tape, two matching strips circling her face, one biting into fleshy cheeks, the other flat across her eyes.
My chest seized. I took short quick inhales that produced no oxygen whatsoever. Stumbling back, I turned, my exit blocked by the Realtor, who stepped forward with an eerily calm smile. It was the same sort of smile that Johnny had given me, that dark summer night, all of those years ago.
“You don’t need to look at me like that. I could have killed her, you know.”
She lifted her hand, and I saw the gun. She pulled the trigger and I jerked sideways, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough.
DARIO
It was fucking hot out here. If they bought this place, they’d have to put misters in. Bring out the roofline and cover some of this deck. Blow cool air so you could enjoy the view without sweating your balls off. He adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and settled into one of the chaise loungers, looking out on the pool. He could imagine Bell there, floating lazily by, a tiny bikini on, music playing, a drink in hand.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the window where he’d seen her, but the window was empty. He shifted in the seat and tried to focus on the conversation, one that had been important enough for him to step away from her.
Agent King continued. “The place was packed with people, but the wrong sort. Illegals. Hawk had them stacked like boxcars in this place. Living and working there.”
“Working?” He watched as a hawk soared by, its wings tipping toward him. “What kind of work?”
“Manufacturing tourist shit. Putting together trinkets and screen printing tees. Towels. Stuff like that. There was a ton of equipment in there.”
Dario grimaced, cursing himself for allowing the gift shops to remain under Hawk’s wheelhouse. They had fourteen of them. Fourteen shops, all of them probably hosting now-illegal merchandise.
The agent spoke again. “ICE has the illegals. We’ve got a team working on that warehouse but we’re moving down the list to the next prospect. The pencil pushers are still finding more locations, digging through Hawk’s records. We found this parcel through his payment of the property taxes. We’ll uncover a few more in that way.”
Dario looked up at the late afternoon sun and thought of the heat. “You have to hurry. Who knows what kind of condition those girls are in.”
He thought of Gwen, of her stories of Mexico and the dirt-floor shack where they’d kept her prisoner. The days she’d gone without water, her young body sweating valuable moisture in the humid heat. Hawk hadn’t cared then, and the chances of him taking care of his prisoners now, decades later, were slim.
“I’m not gonna be able to sleep until we find them. Don’t worry. We’ve got every spare suit on this project.”
There was a sound, something from the house, and he turned his head, glancing back up at the windows. He still couldn’t see her and he stood, letting his gaze drift over the back of the house, the reflection obscuring some of the rooms. “Thanks for the update. Please let me know the minute you find something.”
“Will do.”
Dario ended the call and headed for the back door, eager to get back to her.
Twenty-Two
BELL
The shot caught me in my shoulder, a thousand volts of fuck-me-up causing my body to seize, everything shaking, my collision with the floor one that I saw coming but could do absolutely nothing to stop. God, the impact hurt, the pain muted by the greater wrath of the Taser.
I had grabbed an electric fence at the barn once. It had left me disoriented, the pain more of an uncomfortable buzz, one that shattered your teeth and stole your breath. This was entirely different.
Snot ran from my nose, my heart galloped in my chest and every muscle seemed to cramp at one time. I heard a loud knocking sound and realized it was my head banging against the tile, my feet flopping into the edge of the tub, everything chattering inside my skin in the most uncomfortable manner possible.
The Realtor bitch approached, fuzzy through my tears, her blonde hair cascading down, and she had something in her hand.
I was helpless, unable to fight, unable to think, unable to do anything but watch through blurry eyes as a sharp pain jabbed into my bare thigh.
She stabbed me. The thought came and then, pleasantly enough, I had no thoughts at all.