Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Rich shakes his head. "Nah, man. She's been beaten and starved." His expression goes grim, his lips twisting with disgust. "Pretty regularly from the sound of it. She has quite a few badly healed broken bones. She's also severely malnourished. Doc says some of those bones were broken at least a decade ago, if not longer. If she sought medical treatment for them, they can't find a record of her in the system."
"Jesus," I whisper, angling my body so I can see inside her room again. She's still curled into a ball under the sheet, almost like she's trying to make herself as small as possible. The sight automatically has my protective instincts flaring. She looks tiny and vulnerable…afraid.
What happened to her? And who the fuck hurt her?
"Is she talking at all?"
Rich shakes his head. "She tried to make a run for it once," he admits. "We caught her before she got far. She wasn't happy about it, but Sai threatened to put her in handcuffs if she tried again. That settled her down."
My frown deepens, more questions whirling through my mind. I saw how frightened she was at the scene, especially when one of the Bratva called her a bitch. Stark terror flowed through her honey-brown eyes. Even in the dark, her tawny skin blanched white. If she's trying to run, it's not because she's in a hurry to get back to them. Which means she's trying to get as far away from Tarasova and his people as possible.
That fact, coupled with the broken bones and starvation paints a grim picture…real goddamn grim.
More than likely, Faith Donovan is la esclava del narco, a cartel slave held in captivity and forced to work for Tarasova. Human trafficking is a nasty business…and men like Tarasova have been using unwilling victims to carry out their misdeeds for years. God only knows what Faith has been forced to do for them or for how long.
The thought alone sets my blood to boiling.
It's bad enough men like Nikolai Tarasova exist at all…worse that they victimize innocent people right under our noses and we can't seem to do a goddamn thing about it. Tarasova is one of the worst men I've ever dealt with. He's a violent, depraved son of a bitch with a criminal record as long as my arm, yet he somehow manages to walk away every single time we try to take him down.
He has more connections than God. He's run the California arm of their Bratva operation for most of the last four decades. The Tarasova family is virtually untouchable…and I loathe every single one of the bastards.
The memories of their crimes still haunt me, as do the faces of their victims. My older sister was one of them. What they did to her…well, there was no body to bury. I know because I spent most of my life looking. Eventually, I had to face the fact that we'd never know what really happened to her. We'd never have closure.
I want the Tarasov family out of this city so badly I can taste it, and Faith Donovan might just be my way to make it happen.
"Mierda," I mumble, already knowing she isn't going to like what I'm about to ask her to do or what it's going to mean for her. But if I can get her to talk, I might be able to take Tarasova and his people down for once.
Because if the doctor is right about how old those injuries are…she's been under Nikolai Tarasova's thumb for a long damn time. Perhaps long enough to know exactly where to hit him and how to make it hurt.
Dios, me perdone por mis pecados, I pray before turning to Rich.
"Find her doctor," I mutter, my voice grim. "He and I need to have a talk."
I step inside Faith's room an hour later, more concerned about her than I was when I first arrived at the hospital. She's dehydrated and malnourished, her body almost depleted of essential nutrients. Like Rich said, she's riddled with badly healed broken bones and scars, some so old there is no fixing them now. They tell a story that breaks a piece of my heart. There's no way I can let Nikolai Tarasova get anywhere near her. Even if she can't help me, he won't get his hands on her again.
Fucking hell. The urge to hunt him down and kill him runs hot…and so does the desire to scoop Faith up into my arms and swear to her that no one will ever hurt her like that again. It's fucking with my head in a major way.
She doesn't move a muscle or acknowledge my presence as I cross the threshold. I know she's awake, though. The thin sheet has slipped halfway off and she's shivering, her eyes are clenched tightly closed, and her breathing is uneven.