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)
Did she regret attacking him?
Maybe he’d truly meant to give her freedom.
Freedom from him.
Freedom from her illness.
But without Tate, she would’ve never been free.
The only thing she regretted was not bashing him again and again until his brains spilled onto the floor.
She sat beside Van on the bus, hands and legs shackled with a chain between the restraints to limit movement. Dozens of prisoners crowded in around them, all traveling to the same horrific fate.
Sadness hung like a fog in the humid air. The entire bus smelled like defeat. But she refused to subscribe to it. Her feelings had been all over the place for the past seven days, but she hadn’t let herself break. She hadn’t given up. Eleven years ago, she’d entered Tiago’s world much like this and worked her way to the top. She would do it again.
But could she do it with a broken heart?
Thinking about Tate, missing him, craving him, loving him—her need for him didn’t come and go like her illness. It was a building, growing, continuous escalation, and she couldn’t break away from it. She didn’t want to. She’d never experienced such deep-seeded torment in her life. But it was her torment, and she would endure it for as long as she was separated from him.
About an hour into the drive, the bus rolled through an urban town. High-rise buildings lined the street in a mishmash of historical and modern architecture.
There were over a hundred prisons in Venezuela, and she didn’t know which one they were assigned to or where this town was on the map. But as the bus stopped in front of a towering office building, it didn’t feel right.
She exchanged a confused look with Van.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Hell if I know.”
The driver rose from the seat and opened the door. The two armed guards in the front also stood.
Footsteps announced someone boarding the bus. She craned her neck and spotted a mid-thirties Caucasian man. His short brown hair was a military-type cut. He wore aviator glasses, a black leather jacket, and dark jeans. Strong jawline and muscled physique, he looked like a hot DEA Special Agent from the States. Wishful thinking.
Why was he talking to the driver?
She glanced at Van, who watched the man with a grin tugging at his lips.
Her heart rate skyrocketed. “Do you know him?”
Without looking at her, he gripped her wrist above the chains and squeezed. Hard.
Oh my fucking God. He knows him!
Was it Cole Hartman? The man who helped Tate locate her? Who else could it be?
The bus hadn’t been forced to the side of the road. This was a preplanned stop. An arrangement negotiated in advance.
A rescue.
One of the guards turned and strolled down the aisle. Her lungs crashed together as he stopped beside Van and unlocked the restraints from the seat. He did the same for hers and stepped back, motioning for them to go.
Her legs trembled, and her pulse hiked as she followed Van off the bus. The man in sunglasses led them into the building without a word, his gait efficient and quick. Too quick for her shackled, shuffling feet to keep up. Van managed only slightly better with his stronger legs.
Once they were inside the vacant lobby, the stranger crouched before them and unlocked the chains with a key.
“Where’s Amber?” Van kicked his feet free.
“With Matias.” The man unlocked her shackles and rose to free her wrists. “I’m Cole Hartman.”
Her heart tumbled and flipped.
“Do you know where Tate is?” She dropped the last of her restraints and sucked in a breath.
“Tiago Badell has him.” He freed Van’s hands, strode to the bay of elevators, and pushed the up button. “I don’t know where.”
Her heart shattered into a million pieces. “Is he alive?”
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “When I leave here, I’ll find him.”
“Who’s funding that?” Van prowled toward him, head cocked.
“You are.” Cole smirked. “Your wife approved it. Matias is chipping in on the extraction fee.”
“Extraction.” Her voice cracked with tears, and she cleared it. “You know he’s alive?”
“I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Hope?” She gripped the front of her shirt, drawing his attention to the dark red stains. “I’ve been wearing his blood for over a week. I left him crawling in an alley with broken ribs, his back carved to hell, and a hole from an icepick through his arm. Hope is all I have left.”
“Okay.” Cole’s brows drew in, and he stood taller. “What I know of Tate Vades is when he’s determined to do something, he does it. If he wants to live, he will.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. In a swirl of tears and long brown hair, a beautiful woman shot out of the lift and collided with Van’s chest.
He grunted a noise that sounded a lot like a sob as he yanked her up his body and buried his face in her neck.