Page 74 of Tainted Obsession 1

“Let me go,” I demand breathlessly, twisting in my captor’s iron grip.

The leader laughs. “You’re not going anywhere. Not for a while, at least.” He reaches out and picks up a lock of my hair, testing the texture of the silky strands between grubby fingers. “We’ll get more for her than the Americans would offer us. They don’t even know she’s here. Do they?” he asks me.

My heart sinks. No one knows I’m here, not even Massimo. I wanted to escape from him, but the fate that my assailants plan for me is far worse.

“Take me to Adrián Rodríguez.” I try to issue a command, but it comes out as a rough plea. “He’ll tell you who I am.”

The older man’s brows lift. “So, now you know Rodríguez? I don’t think so.”

“She might.” The quiet one isn’t as quiet anymore. He might prove to be my salvation. “We found her near his mansion. I don’t want to cross him.”

The one who has me in his harsh grip says, “Even if she does know him, she was running away from that area. She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Massimo Imperiale.” I say his name like a prayer to a guardian angel. I only just learned his surname when Stefano introduced us to Adrián, but I hope it holds weight with these men. “I belong to Massimo.”

The leader shrugs. “Never heard of him.”

“This is a mistake.” My only advocate speaks up for me again. “I don’t want to be involved in this. Either the Americans will punish us, or Rodríguez will. Think about?—”

Without so much as blinking, the leader draws his gun from the holster at his side, aims, and fire.

I scream at the close proximity of the gunshot. My ears ring, and I’m not sure if it’s from the deafening noise or from the panic that crushes me. My advocate lays on the floor, blood pooling around his ruined skull.

“He was never cut out for this,” his murderer says dismissively.

He sets his gun on the desk behind him to free up both of his hands. His dirty fingers fist in my silk dress, tearing the delicate material.

“How much do you think we’ll get for her?” he asks my captor.

“Depends how much we fuck her up first,” he replies dispassionately. “Be careful with her face. She’s pretty.”

Another scream tears from deep inside my chest: a grating mix of impotent rage and primal fear. I lift my knee and then slam my high heel down hard on the top of my assailant’s foot.

He barks a curse, and his grip on me loosens. I wrench my arms free from his grasping hands and lurch toward the exit, desperate to get out of this nightmare.

Pain rips at my scalp when one of them grabs my hair, hauling me back. I shriek and struggle, swinging wildly to defend myself. My fist glances off the older man’s jaw. He laughs like he’s having the time of his life.

He backhands me, a casual blow that sends me reeling.

The world flickers around me, and when it comes back into focus, I lay on the cold concrete floor. The dangerous one I’ve been wary of from the very beginning looms over me.

Before I can form a fist, he grabs my wrists and pins them over my head. His awful weight settles over me, and the scent of stale sweat and cigarettes turns the oxygen into poison as I heave in a desperate breath.

“Get off her,” the older man barks.

For one insane moment, I think he might relent. He might change his mind and set me free.

My captor shoves off me, but he keeps my wrists trapped above my head. The leader leers at me and reaches for his belt.

“It’s my turn first.”

I scream and thrash, but I only earn more bruises. Pain and terror engulf me, making my lungs seize. I gasp in one lungful of toxic air and cry out for my dark savior.

But he isn’t coming. He doesn’t know where I am.

And he has a new, pretty distraction to occupy his attention.

I’ll never see Massimo again. I’ll never go home. I won’t survive this.