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He hesitates on his response, watching me a moment. “I told you. She’s safe. Probably safer now than she is when she’s with you. Definitely safer than she would be in Navarro’s hands.”
My molars grind against each other.
“Consider it a favor that I’m doing for you, son. You need to focus on your priorities. She’ll stay safe while you learn how to run the business.”
I fight the urge to reach across the table and choke the answer out of him. I’d never get it. He’d die with a smile on his lips and a promise on his tongue, that Mercy will suffer extra for my betrayal. “I expect a phone call within the hour with her on the other line.” I need to at least hear her voice, to tell her I’m sorry.
I need to hear her tell me that she doesn’t hate me.
That she still loves me.
Dad snorts. “Bane doesn’t work like—”
“Within the hour!” My shout ricochets off the walls as I storm out.
4
Mercy
Forty-two.
That’s how many nails my captor drove through the sheet of plywood to secure it to the window, shutting the world out. Ten would have sufficed. Regardless, I don’t have a hope in hell of prying it off, a reality I accepted hours ago, after pacing the perimeter of this tiny bedroom until the stifling air exhausted me. After making sure there weren’t any hidden cameras, I shed my robe, the hefty terry cloth smothering in this intolerable heat.
It was around that same time that I heard the woman’s scream for the first time.
The frightened sound came from somewhere outside of the trailer—the garage, probably.
She sounded older and her cries were interspersed with pleading. There were so many “please don’ts” and “we’ll give you anythings.” I don’t know who “we” is or what she was begging our captor not to do. Knowing that I’m not the only one trapped in this desert compound brought me a twisted comfort, but I haven’t heard her again in some time. That doesn’t bring me any comfort.
I assume she’s stuck here on Vlad Easton’s orders. I wonder what she did to earn his ire?
All I did was fall in love with his son.
With a deep breath to stifle my panic, my thoughts drift to Gabriel. He must know by now that I’ve been taken, and I’m sure he’s beyond livid. But has he figured out that it’s his own father directing this psychopath?
He’ll find me and get me out of here. I know he will. For all Gabriel’s faults—and he has many—he has always protected me in his own way. Will he get the police involved though? No, not likely and especially not after what happened in the penthouse last night.
But he’s probably already running around with his team of bodyguards, on the phone with his P.I, breaking all kinds of laws and throwing money at people for information. Someone must have seen something. Me, carried into the van. Cameras that caught the plates. Anything.
Gabriel will save me. I just need to be patient.
I check the plastic water bottle in my grip. The amount left in it hasn’t changed—a mouthful. It was full when he locked me in here and I’ve been savoring it over the hours. I’m not eager to use the bucket in the corner—presumably the restroom. Also, I have no idea how long it’ll be before I get another. This guy doesn’t seem like the type to be too concerned about keeping me hydrated.
An ear-piercing shriek slices through the silence.
My heart begins to race. It’s that woman again, only it’s a different sound than the last round of screams, laced less with fear and more with horror.
I hold my breath and listen for some clue about who she is, and why she’s trapped here, too.
Another shriek punctures the desert’s quiet soon after, this one more desperate.
I jolt at the blast of a gunshot and my blood turns cold at the deathly silence that follows.
Did he just kill her?
Am I next in line?
Will I be screaming and begging for my life soon, too?
Something tells me pleading with this guy would be useless.
I slip my robe back on and pull it tight around my body for comfort as terror threatens to overwhelm me. And I focus on positive thoughts: that Gabriel will find me.
He’ll save me.
I can’t say how much time passes before I hear heels dragging across sand, shortly before boots climb the metal steps. My pulse races in my ears as the mobile door creaks open. “Gimme a minute. I was in the middle of the other job when you called,” my kidnapper says, his voice gruff and annoyed. “Yeah, yeah… you know I don’t normally cater to this shit.” He talking to someone on the phone. Cupboard doors slam. “Okay, shoot…. Yup. As soon as I hang up with you.” A heavy sigh and curse follow, and then footfalls approach slowly along the hallway.
