“We’ll be extra vigilant, I promise.”
“I’ll text you when I’m home safely,” I say.
“Take care, and I’ll call you with an update soon,” she says before walking off.
The driver joins the traffic as I settle in the seat beside Orlo, my second bodyguard, keeping my eyes glued to the driver’s side mirror, watching the cars behind us, but I don’t see anyone following us.
We’re only ten minutes from the house, and I’m just starting to relax when a loud noise erupts outside the car and we’re suddenly spinning.
“Someone shot out the tires,” Dino roars from the front. “Get down,” he shouts as a vehicle slams into the side of our SUV, jolting us all forward. Orlo throws himself over me, covering me with his body. My fingers clasp the locket around my neck as I shake and shiver all over. We’re slammed from the other side, sandwiched between two vehicles, and my skull rattles as the car violently vibrates before stalling.
Glass shatters in the front, accompanied by two muted pops, and I scream. My door is yanked open with force, and I scream again when someone fires two bullets into Orlo’s back. He slumps to the floor, and I’m on my own now. Adrenaline kicks in, and I thrash around as I’m lifted out of the car.
“Hello,Mommy.” Cesco shoves his face all up in mine as I’m restrained by strong arms from behind. “It’s time to come home.”
The last thing I see is the butt of a gun moving toward my temple, and then I black out.
38
VALENTINA
When I wake, I have a thumping headache, a crick in my neck, and my arms ache like a bitch.
“She’s awake,” a man with an unfamiliar voice says, sending terror shooting through me.
Turning my head, I stare into the eyes of a man I know only from seeing him at parties at the house. He’s one of Cesco’s friends. A gang member. His thigh presses against mine as he grins, leering down the front of my dress. My hands are tied behind my back, and my arms throb, especially where a rudimentary bandage is wrapped around my upper left arm. Lines of dried blood are caked to my skin from where they must have opened my scar to check for the tracker.
Glancing down, I’m relieved to see my locket cradled against my collarbone, and it offers a small measure of comfort as does the tracker in the nape of my neck. Cesco doesn’t know about the new trackers, so he wouldn’t even know to check.
The van jolts as it pulls over to the side of the road. I slide down the bench before the dickhead sitting beside me stretches his arm out, pulling me back into his side. Two other men sit on his other side, peering forward and staring at me with naked desire.
These are Cesco’s friends from his high-school days. Members of a motorcycle gang. Interesting he has them helping, not any of Miami’ssoldati. Says a lot about where their loyalties lie.
The side door opens, and Cesco climbs inside. He slides the door shut and loudly taps the black aluminum panel before sitting on the bench on my other side. “Finally.” The van drives back out onto the road as Cesco grips my chin, forcing my face to his. “I was getting worried I’d hit you too hard. Pity you missed the flight. The jet my friend Pablo Fuentes loaned me was the height of luxury.”
Of course, he’s colluding with the cartel. He hasn’t learned a thing from watching his father’s mistakes.
He toys with the right strap on my dress. “You would have enjoyed it.”
The strap falls down my arm, and panic infiltrates my veins. Nerves fire at me from all angles, but I stamp them down inside, wrangling my panic into a ball and shoving it behind a mental wall. A familiar mask blankets my features as I transform into self-protective mode. It’s as natural as breathing after six years even if Fiero has broken through my walls so effectively. Coping mechanisms aren’t that easily unraveled.
I can’t see anything from the back of the van, but Cesco’s words confirm I’m back in Miami. I try not to freak out because Fiero will come for me soon. Cat will notify Massimo when I fail to check in with her. Or one of the men in the car if any of them survived.
“I had plans to test out his king bed, but I’m not into fucking comatose females.” Leaning across me, Cesco flips the left strap of my dress, grinning at me with heat flaring in his eyes. “But you’re conscious now.”
I stare numbly at him, unwilling to play this game.
“Tossing you around like a ragdoll got me all worked up though.” He rubs the bulge behind his black sweatpants. “I’ve waited years for a taste, and I’m done waiting.” Holding my chin firmly in one hand, he slams his disgusting mouth down on mine.
I zone out, going to that safe space in my mind that will protect me, not protesting or whimpering when his disgusting tongue pries my lips apart and he shoves it into my mouth. He grunts as he fumbles with the hem of my dress, pushing it up to my waist and tugging my panties aside. I’m as dry as the Sahara when he drives two fingers inside me. It hurts, but I barely feel the pain.
“Spread her thighs,” a man with a gruff voice says. “We want to see.”
Without breaking his kiss, Cesco forces my thighs to widen before ripping my lace panties away. Cool air wafts over my exposed flesh as my underwear falls apart at my feet.
“Damn. That’s a pretty pussy,” a different man adds.
“Show us her tits,” the third man says. “I’ve always wanted to know if they’re real or fake.”
