Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Yeah, whoever it is, is trying to send a message,” Matteo says slowly. “Carlos Santiago trafficked women before my brother shut him down. They held Dani in a cargo crate. They fucked with several of our shipments. And now they’re taking Bri to the fucking port. Fuck, why didn’t we put the pieces together before?” He slams his fist against the dashboard and then calls Eddy, asking him to pull the footage from the cameras in front of the studio and at the port so we can try to see who’s responsible.
There’s an accident on I-95, and I almost consider getting out and running to the port, but we’re too far, and it will take too long.
“The guys are saying they don’t see anyone there.”
Finally, the traffic picks back up, and I weave in and out of the vehicles on the road.
As we’re pulling in, Matteo’s phone rings, and he puts it on speaker.
“Boss,” his guy yells, “the cargo ship just crashed into the dock. Containers are everywhere, but we don’t see Brielle anywhere.”
“Don’t worry about the containers,” Matteo yells, jumping out of the car and running toward the docks. “Watch for my fucking sister! She has to be here somewhere.”
We get to the docks, and I glance around, trying to figure out where the hell she is. The dot shows she’s around here somewhere … and then my gaze lands on the other cargo ship leaving.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, realizing the crash was another goddamn distraction. “She’s on that ship!” I yell at Matteo as I take off running down the dock.
They can’t leave without the port pilot guiding them out, so my only hope is to get on the pilot ship. Matteo catches up to me and hands me a gun. Then we both jump onto the pilot ship, along with three other men.
“Remember,” Matteo says as the pilot ship heads toward the side of the cargo ship, “my sister is on board. Shoot to kill, but make sure she’s safe.”
Brielle
My walls were down.
Everything had been going well lately.
For the first time in years, I looked forward to going home and spending my evening curled up with a man.
He might not love me, but it’s clear he cares about me. It’s in the way he hugs and kisses me and gives me affection. He stocks my favorite protein shakes in the fridge. He orders my coffee and breakfast ahead to ensure I get the pastry I want. When we have sex, he makes sure I’m taken care of and always lets me take control. I could talk to him about the Pilates studio for hours, and he’d listen attentively the entire time. And he brought Molly home.
So, I let my guard down.
And when the fire alarm went off next door, causing the one in the Pilates studio to go off as well, I walked outside without thinking.
There was smoke coming out of the store, and the water main had burst. My only thought was that I was going to lose the studio I’d just closed on.
Because I’d let my guard down.
And then I was snatched up.
I watched Daniil and Josh lose their lives when they tried to save me.
And before I could call for help, my phone was snatched out of my hand and thrown into the street.
The only good thing was that Nicole wasn’t taken.
I was shoved into the trunk of a vehicle and brought to the port, where my wrists were bound and I was forced into a cargo ship.
They didn’t bother to cover my eyes, which told me I was going to die.
And my only hope at this point is that they make it quick.
But when two huge men corner me with malice in their eyes, it hits me that they’re going to torture me before I die.
“We were told to send a message,” one of the guys says, his accent thick, slicing the ropes on my wrists because he obviously doesn’t see me as a threat.
I’m not sure where they’re from, but when he speaks to the other man, it’s clear they’re Hispanic. Because I was raised to be a good trophy wife, Andrey made me learn Spanish, Italian, and Russian, so I understand every word they’re saying in Spanish.
“I get her first. Then you can have her next.”
“Fine. Then we’ll kill her.”
“He didn’t say to kill her. Only to send a message.”
“Killing her will send a message.”
They both laugh, and I close my eyes, mentally preparing for what’s about to come.
The first guy advances on me, and I scream even though it’s futile. I claw at his arms and neck and face, refusing to go down without a fight.
He yells at the other guy to hold me down.
I kick and scream and attack him until my wrists are twisted behind my back, and my shoes, yoga pants, and underwear are ripped from my body.