Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
It sounds like a promise when he says, “I’ll do anything for you.” He kisses my temple again. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
I only want to feel safe, and right now, I actually do.
“I just want you to hold me,” I admit while taking deep breaths of his scent.
Standing in Santiago’s arms, it finally sinks in that I’m safe. I’ve escaped Nolan, and there’s an entire ocean between us. He can’t get to me.
I’m safe with Santiago.
Chapter 16
SANTIAGO
As Pedro steers the SUV toward the club, my thoughts are filled with Ciara. She has made so much progress over the past three days.
I hate that I had to leave her with Astrid, but I need to take care of the fucking sex club because God only knows how that shipment of women has been suffering the past three weeks.
Glancing at Pedro, I ask, “Any sign of Nolan Walsh?”
“Not yet. Jorge is following the father, and he also has men at the safe house so they can keep an eye on the place where he kept Ciara.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want the fucker found.”
“I know,” Pedro replies. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? You look preoccupied,” he keeps nagging.
“Drop it, Pedro,” I mutter. “I’m fine. Let’s just get the job done.”
“Okay.” The fucker starts to whistle, and it has me letting out a sigh.
I check the straps on the armored vest I’m wearing because the last thing I want is to be shot tonight.
We all have earpieces so we’ll be able to communicate, and I check the magazine of my submachine gun as we turn up the street where the club is situated.
“Target ahead,” Pedro mutters.
I have twenty of my well-trained men with me, so everything should go smoothly.
My second-in-command brings the SUV to a stop in the parking area of the club. We jump out, the sound of screeching tires filling the air as my men pull up beside us.
We storm the entrance, and Pedro takes out the bouncer. Moving inside, we’re met with purple strobing lights. There are easily ten poles with half-naked women dancing around them and tables situated between them.
I point the barrel of my weapon at the ceiling and pull the trigger. The sound cuts through all the noise, then I shout, “Music off and everyone out. Ten seconds, and I start shooting whoever’s still here.”
Knowing my men are behind me, I move forward toward the back area where the real shit will be happening. When we enter a hallway, someone opens fire on us. I quickly duck, and pulling the trigger, I spray the entire area ahead of me with bullets.
Rushing forward, Pedro and I keep taking out the men as they appear until we reach rooms that have curtains for doors.
I’ve seen this so many times that it shouldn’t affect me anymore, but it does. A man comes storming through the curtains, slamming into my side. He lifts my body into the air before knocking me into the wall. Air explodes from me, then I bring my knee up, hitting him in the abdomen.
Pedro points the gun right against the fucker’s temple and pulls the trigger. Blood sprays over me, and I quickly regain my balance as the body drops to the floor.
“Christ,” I snap. “I had him. You didn’t have to fucking blow his brains all over me.”
“Couldn’t resist,” Pedro chuckles.
My men move through the rooms, rounding up all the fuckers who work at the club and taking them to the front.
“Where the fuck is the bathroom?” I shout.
“Out here, boss,” one of the guards answers.
I glance at Pedro. “Check which women are good to leave on their own and which are coming with us.”
“On it.”
I see the bathroom sign to my left and stalk toward it. I head straight for the sink, and opening a faucet, I wash the blood off my face and neck.
Suddenly, I hear something clanking behind me, and with droplets running down my face, I turn to look at the partially shut door of one of the stalls.
Lifting my machine gun, my finger curls around the trigger as I slowly walk closer.
“Either you come out, or I’m shooting you. The choice is yours,” I say, my tone laced with warning.
“I’m coming out,” a man says, and seconds later, he appears with his hands in the air. “Please, don’t shoot.”
I move closer and pat the fucker down to make sure he isn’t armed and pulls a gun on me. Sure that he’s unarmed, I look at his face. I know what every single person who works for the club looks like, and not recognizing the man, I say, “Get out of here.”
He hurries toward the door, and I follow after him. While the man runs for the exit, I glance at the four fuckers that are kneeling in front of a bar, their hands restrained with cable ties behind their back.