Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Her hands fumbled with the lock’s dial, spinning through number combinations and testing the lever. She would never guess it, and every second she delayed was a risk to Tate’s life.
She stepped back. Leaving behind the medicine had been part of her plan. She couldn’t do anything to change that.
With a resolved breath, she pivoted and faced the body.
The sticky puddle beneath his head had doubled in size. The sight of his slack face, matted hair, and gory wound on his skull made her feel sick. Villainous. Her stomach knotted, and her scalp tingled with unease.
She’d killed him in cold blood.
So much for not feeling remorse. God, I’m so fucked-up.
Turning on her heel, she strode toward the door.
She still wore her boots, jeans, and shirt. Dried blood stained her chest and arms. Tate’s blood. If Tiago’s death had splattered on her, it wasn’t noticeable.
At the door, she rested a hand on the knob and checked the line of sight between her position and the body. The guards wouldn’t see Tiago unless they pushed the door all the way open.
It would be easy to enter the hall without being questioned by them. She did it every morning after every injection, and Tiago rarely followed her out. Today would be the same.
She swallowed, emptied her expression, and turned the knob.
Her Berettas weren’t on the bench in the hall. Being unarmed would suck for the next few minutes, but it worked in her favor.
The guards gave her a cursory glance. She returned one of her own as she slipped out, shut the door behind her, and made her way down the hall.
All they had to do is peek inside his room. If they were suspicious or simply had a question for him, the door was unlocked. With just a turn of that knob, they would know what she did. And they would kill her.
Fucking hell, she trembled. Her hands shook, and she clenched them. Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy and overloaded with tension.
She didn’t know what Tiago’s plans had been for her once he released her. But on a normal day, two guards would be waiting in the lobby, watching for her so they could escort her back to the apartment. Escaping them wouldn’t be an option. She would have to neutralize them quietly and discreetly.
She weaved through the labyrinth of corridors, passing countless men—thieves, kidnappers, murderers, rapists. The worst of humanity. And they had no idea she’d killed their commander.
As the lobby came into view, she veered to the left and slipped into the kitchen.
Food and cookware scattered steel counter tops without a single person in sight.
Yes! I lucked out.
She rushed toward a rack of utensils and snatched the biggest knife. Then something moved in the pantry behind her, the squeak of sneakers on tiled floors.
Quickly and carefully, she concealed the blade in her boot and spun toward the sound.
“Qué buscas?” Roberto, the oldest of Tiago’s chefs, paused in the doorway of the pantry.
If he’d seen her steal the knife, she would have to kill him. More blood. More death. She braced herself for it.
“I’m hungry,” she said in Spanish.
He strode toward her, carrying a bag of rice while eying her from head to toe. His graying mustache twitched with the roll of his lips.
“You eat when everyone else eats.” His Spanish dribbled with disdain as he thrust his chin at the door. “Get out.”
Gladly.
She fled the kitchen, fighting the urge to glance down and make sure the knife was hidden until she stepped into the vacant hall.
The stairs to the basement waited just around the corner. She kept her gait even, casual, as she walked, turning the bend and—
A hand clamped onto her shoulder, propelling her heart to her throat.
“Are you ready to leave?”
She didn’t recognize the masculine voice but knew it was one of her Spanish-speaking guards before she turned to face him.
“I left my Berettas in the basement,” she said in Spanish and stepped out of his grip with a racing pulse.
Her guns were probably still at her apartment. If this tattooed, baby-faced thug had been involved in the gunfight last night, he would know that. Unfortunately, she’d been in too much pain and shock to recall the details of Tiago carrying her away.
She held her breath as he studied her with bloodshot eyes. She could really use a 9mm with a silencer. Most of the guards carried them, but not this one. The sawed-off shotgun on his hip wouldn’t help her if it alerted every gang member in the compound.
“Fine,” he said in Spanish and pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Be quick.”
Forcing her boots to move as if reluctant and bored, she shuffled toward the stairwell.
CHAPTER 26
There were benefits of being a high-ranked gang member for Tiago Badell. One, Lucia had access to every hallway, room, and dark corner in the compound and no one questioned her. Two, she had deep insight into how Tiago ran his security.