Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
There was no one else it could be, though.
The Calgary Family.
The Scottish version of the mafia.
Guys who were so crazy and dangerous that the actual Italian mafia was worried about them gaining any more power.
Maybe they didn’t want a meeting with me. Maybe they just wanted to grab me, torture and question me for details on Colin’s operation as well as where the money they were promised was hidden. Then kill me and deal with the rest themselves.
I guess that made a lot more sense than just keeping me alive, right?
Close.
Damnit, I was so, so close to getting free.
Only to have it snatched away at the last possible second.
No.
Nope.
I couldn’t let my mind go there.
It wasn’t hopeless, not completely.
I wasn’t alone.
I had Massimo and his brothers.
Except, of course, they were out of town. And there would be no way for them to know that something happened to me until I missed Massimo’s calls.
Even then, would he think something was genuinely wrong? Or would he assume I just missed his call? Or that I was avoiding him because we’d hooked up?
Tears, useless and unwanted, flooded my eyes.
If this was the Calgary Family, I was on my own with them. Because if Massimo couldn’t get in touch with me, it was still a full day before he carried out his plan to handle Colin and his organization. And that was when he would realize I wasn’t avoiding him, that I wasn’t there at all.
By then, who knew what could have happened to me.
A pathetic little whimper escaped me before the car took a hard left, making my body roll and slam against the trunk.
“Damnit,” I hissed, but was glad for the pain because it seemed to help me focus.
If I couldn’t escape immediately after getting out of the trunk, then I would have to try to play it smart. Tease them with what I had to offer.
I couldn’t give them what they wanted. Because then they would have no reason to keep me alive.
But if I didn’t give them enough, they might try to torture the information out of me.
I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough for that.
But I had to try.
I couldn’t break.
Massimo would come for me.
If I could just stick it out long enough, he would come to save me.
I had to believe that.
Especially because the car was slowing down, then finally stopping and cutting off the engine.
Hope was the only thing that was going to get me through whatever was about to come.
I took slow, deep breaths as I heard the car door open, then close, and listened to a crunch of feet as they moved closer to the back of the car.
This was it.
Nervous energy seemed to course across the surface of my skin, making me feel like I was buzzing.
My mind, usually so active, went oddly still, completely empty.
I’d never felt so fully in the moment as I was right then. Not worrying about the past or stressing out about the future.
Just acutely aware of my body. Of the sounds around the car.
My kidnapper’s hand moved out and stuck the key in the lock. Turned.
There was the click of it unlatching, popping open slightly, allowing a sliver of sunlight to shine into the dark space.
I focused on it, not wanting to be blinded by the brightness when the whole trunk opened.
There was the longest of pauses, but no sound at all.
Were they trying to scare me? Or were they waiting for me to try to push it open and make a run for it, so they could laugh at me?
Slowly, I started to pull my legs up so that when the trunk was pulled up, I could sit up immediately and take stock of my surroundings, decide if there was a chance for escape or not.
Seeing a shadow move into the slit of light—a hand grabbing the edge to pull it up—I just… acted.
I wasn’t sure I fully even thought the idea out.
I just pressed my hands to the inside of the door, and shoved downward with as much strength as I could given the awkward angle.
There was a howl of pain as the hand crushed in the small space before the top released, popping open.
I didn’t pause.
I didn’t think.
I just flew upward, my head knocking open the trunk the rest of the way so my hands could grab the outside of the car to help me climb out.
The problem was… I looked.
If I hadn’t looked, if I had just run, maybe things would have been different.
But I looked.
To the man who had thrown me in the trunk. The one who had been about to pull me back out of it to some unknown fate.
Not some random, unknown figure. Some Calgary Family henchmen.
No.
Not even a random stranger.
No.
No.
This was Lucas.
Lucas.
My little brother.
The boy I had practically raised. The one who I would have to sing to when I pulled off his bandaids because it distracted him enough so he wouldn’t cry. The one who would only eat sandwiches if I crunched up potato chips on them first. The one who I’d taught how to throw a punch because the bullies at school wouldn’t stop giving him shit because he’d been smaller and quieter than the other kids.