Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
My brain works feverishly.
Is it them? The bastards who trafficked her? I feel sick to my stomach. How the hell did they find us? How? Maybe they were the fuckers who burgled my flat. They found information on the Trevethick estate and Tresyllian Hall. And now they’re here. Asking questions. The fucking nerve of them, coming to my house. I grip the steering wheel.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
If they locate her at the Hideout…I’ll never see her again.
My panic mushrooms.
She’ll be dragged into a horrific underworld, and I’ll never be able to find her.
No. Fuck. No.
I swerve down the lane toward the Hideout, spraying gravel into the hedgerows.
* * *
Alessia’s heart is pounding, her pulse thumping in her ears even as the blood drains from her head. The room spins once, twice, and her legs start to shake.
She’s in her worst nightmare.
The bedroom door is open, and she hears their whispers downstairs. How did they get in? A creak on the stair galvanizes her into action. She sprints into the bathroom and quietly shuts the door. With shaking, clammy hands, she locks it behind her while she gasps for air.
How did they find her?
How?
She’s dizzy with fear. Feeling powerless, she quickly scans the room looking for something to use to defend herself. Anything. His razor? Her toothbrush? She picks up both and slips them into her back pocket.
But the drawers are empty…there’s nothing there.
All she can do is hide. She can only hope that the door will hold until Maxim returns.
No. Maxim!
He is no match for them. He is one man—and they are two. They will harm him. Tears well in her eyes, and she sinks to the floor as her legs give out under her. She leans against the door as human ballast in case they try to break it down.
“I heard something.” It’s Ylli. He’s in the bedroom. When did her own language become so terrifying? “Check that door.”
“You in here, you fucking bitch?” Dante calls out, and rattles the bathroom door, testing the handle. Alessia puts her fist in her mouth to stop from screaming, and tears trickle down her cheeks. Her body starts shaking. Her terror is overwhelming. And she pants, taking in shallow breaths. She’s never felt so frightened. Not even in the truck that brought her to England. She’s completely impotent. She doesn’t know how to fight, and there’s no escape from this room. And, she has no way to warn Maxim.
“Come out!” Dante’s voice makes her jump. It’s inches from her ear on the other side of the door. “It will only be worse for you if we have to break the door down.”
Alessia screws her eyes up tight and stifles her sobs. Suddenly there’s a horrific thud, like a sack of grain falling to the floor, followed by loud cursing, and Alessia is jolted backward.
Zot. Zot. Zot.
He’s trying to break down the door. But it holds. Alessia stands and puts her foot against the door, silently cursing that she’s not wearing shoes and socks. Her feet grip the limestone floor, and she presses her full weight against the door in the hope that it might help hold him back.
“When I get in there, I’m going to kill you. You fucking bitch. Do you know how much you cost me? Do you?”
He slams into the door again.
And Alessia knows it’s only a matter of time. She sucks in a sob as her despair takes hold. She never found the courage to tell Maxim she loves him.
* * *
The Jag hurtles down the lane toward the Hideout, and I spot an old BMW encrusted with at least a year’s worth of dirt, and it’s abandoned haphazardly outside the garage.
Fuck. They’re here.
No. No. No.
My fear and rage race into overdrive, threatening to overcome me.
Alessia!
Calm down, mate. Calm the fuck down. Think. Think. Think.
I pull up and park the car hard against the gate. They won’t get out that way. If I go down the entry steps, they’ll see me, and I’ll lose the element of surprise. I fling open the car door and run to the little-used and hidden side gate and down to the scullery-room door. My breath is coming in short, sharp bursts as adrenaline pumps into my bloodstream, doubling my heart rate.
Calm down, mate. Calm down.
The scullery door’s ajar.
Fuck. Maybe this is how they got into the house. I gulp down a steadying breath, my heart hammering, and gently push open the door and creep in. The adrenaline has sharpened my senses. My breathing is deafening.
Quiet. Be fucking quiet.
There’s shouting. Upstairs.
No. No. No.
If they touch one hair of her head, I will murder them. I turn to the gun cabinet high on the wall and unlock it. I’d stashed my shotguns there yesterday before Alessia and I went for a walk on the beach. Trying to remain calm, I concentrate on removing one of the Purdeys as quietly as I can. With smooth and deliberate movements, I lift it out, open up the barrel, and load two cartridges. I put four more into my coat pocket. I have never been so grateful as I am right now that my father taught me how to shoot.