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SIX
NICOLE
I closed the folder and felt sick. These men were the definition of a monster. Bruno made Martin Castillo look like a damn saint, and that man was no angel from above. He was where he deserved to be—in the dirt.
“Now, you know the plan, you know what to do, so there should be no problem, yeah? I can trust you?”
“No one said anything about trust, Bruno.” I used his first name, as I knew how much he’d hate me being so informal. His eyes narrowed on me, but I kept my expression neutral. “I’ll do what you ask, but on one condition. You guarantee you’ll let my cameraman go.”
“You think you can negotiate?” He laughed.
“You obviously need me, or I wouldn't be here right now.” I raised my chin at the men around me. “Clearly, they're not up for the job.” I smiled when they looked pissed. “If I do this, I want assurance that you’ll leave me alone and let him go.”
Bruno walked up to me and rubbed the side of his nose as he leaned in. It was clear he was embarrassed that I spoke to him that way in front of his men. Why I insisted on poking the beast, I’d never know. You’d think I’d have learned something from last time, but apparently, I hadn’t.
“Here is what is going to happen. First…” I didn’t see it coming but sure felt it when he backhanded me across the face. The air shot from my lungs and a bright light flashed before my eyes. “Second.” He did it again but harder. The pain increased by ten. “Third, no one negotiates with me. I say when you leave, when you come, and what will happen. Do you understand?”
I barely heard him as my ears rang from the impact. I tried hard not to show how much it hurt, but it was hard given that Bruno had a mean hit.
“Go.” He waved at the men, and once again a bag was shoved over my head, and I was yanked outside and into the front seat of a truck. “Don't come back unless you have the kid.”
We took off down the road, and I was left to stew over his words.
Hours later, my face still burned, but not as much as my insides. My anger grew with every mile.
“We’re almost there, señorita.” The driver hit my thigh to get my attention, and I jumped at his touch. “You know what to do?”
“Am I to do it blind?” I snapped, then the bag was ripped from my head. It caught my chin on the way off, and I yelped.
I felt a hand slide over my stomach, and I froze as my temper flashed through me.
“You touch me again, and I’ll twist your balls so hard your great grandfather will feel the pressure,” I barked at the guy behind me. I didn’t give a damn if he understood what I said; he’d get my drift. I drilled my elbow into his wrist. Bruno apparently didn’t trust me as much as Sully because he put these two men with me. They had zero boundaries when it came to their hands.
How in the hell did I get in this situation? Why did he want that child so badly?
“A chica with fire,” the man purred to his friend behind the wheel. “That only makes me harder.”
“Says a man with a lifetime of plaque on his teeth.” I scrunched my nose. “How lucky am I?” So, they understood English. I’d keep that in mind.
“Want a taste?” He ran his tongue along his teeth, and my stomach heaved.
“I would rather pour acid in my mouth.” I leaned my elbow on the windowsill and took a frustrated breath. I wasn’t sure what was worse, Bruno or these two dipshits. I touched my tender cheek and knew Bruno was worse.
Around two in the morning, we finally stopped driving and pulled into a small truck stop. “Sleep.” The driver ordered, and I curled into a ball and fell into a light sleep without much effort. I was exhausted and knew if I didn’t sleep when I had the chance, I’d be a mess and not on my A-game later. So, I took the risk and let my guard down.
Later, I woke to the sun, and we were in a different place with nothing but desert road ahead of us. I glanced at the clock and saw it was well into the early afternoon.
“Concussion make you sleep.” The driver pointed to his head, and I tried not to stare at his blackened and broken teeth. I rolled my neck and stretched out my sore muscles.
“How much farther?”
“A while.”
I opened the window to get some fresh air and wondered how I was going to get away from these men without pissing off Bruno too much.
I let my mind wander. When he finally pulled over into an empty parking lot, I quickly engaged my brain and looked around.
A motel sign blinked that it had rooms available. Something told me it was a permanent fixture. No one in their right mind would stay at this replica of the Bates Hotel from Psycho. The driver put the truck in park then flicked his wrist at me.