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At the same time, the door to the front entry opens, and one of Alejandro’s men enters, heading straight to him to whisper something in his ear.
“We have guests,” Alejandro suddenly announces.
With his gun still raised and pointed in my direction, Antonio flips his attention between Alejandro and me.
“I should kill you here, Hadley, for bringing disorder to my home,” he angrily shouts.
“We don’t have time for this, Antonio; we need to deal with the agents on the other side of this door,” Alejandro dictates, momentarily redirecting Antonio’s attention.
“You go deal with them; I’ll take care of Hadley and any others.”
As Alejandro exits the room, Antonio continues to hold his stance, anger radiating on his face. “You have deceived me, Hadley, and for your misgivings, I will not only eliminate you but your brother as well.”
“I’d like to see you try,” I taunt.
“You don’t scare me, Hadley Alexandria,” he ridicules. “Nor does your brother, Gerrick.”
Choosing to ignore his reference to my father’s surname, I hold my stance, refusing to budge.
“It’s just you and me, girl; the next move is yours,”
“I’m unarmed, Antonio; what harm could I possibly bring you?” I calmly point out.
“You forget I’ve heard the stories, Hadley,” he spits.
“They are just stories, Antonio,” I tell him to calm the situation I find myself in. “And anyway, the only one I want to kill is Andres.”
The sound of a gunshot startles him. “We don’t have time to play this game, Hadley. You and I need to move before any more of your friends arrive.”
Going out the same door Emily exited, we arrive in the kitchen. “Keep walking ahead,” he commands, directing me toward another door.
“Where are you taking me, Antonio?” I question when the door opens to a corridor of darkness.
“Somewhere they’ll never think to find us,” he smugly replies.
What he forgets as we walk past cell-like rooms is my husband can hear everything we say through my earpiece, and I’ve traveled this hallway before.
The last time I found myself down here was when Hawke and I rescued Peyton and the other girls held captive by Andres and Sebastian. At the time, the brothers were running a people smuggling ring in Antonio’s absence, and my father had promised poor Peyton to Sebastian.
Although I vaguely remember the layout, I note the number of rooms we pass by. When Antonio finally stops, it’s in the room with the wrought iron door where Peyton had been held. The strong, putrid smell of mold, blood, and urine burns my senses as I'm pushed into the empty room.
Closing the door behind him, he gestures for me to sit on the old rickety bed. Looking toward the floor, it doesn’t surprise me that there are still chains bolted to the concrete that once held the young girls before they were sold off to the highest bidder. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed so as not to aggravate him further, I silently watch as he paces back and forth near the door. His gun waves uncontrollably while he moves around rashly, his finger pressing tighter and tighter the more manic he becomes.
“I’m curious,” I begin.
“Why the need for a wrought iron door in this room?” I question, highlighting the door, so Hawke knows where to locate me.
“This was the room Andres used when smuggling people,” he distractedly divulges.
“I despise smuggling people,” he continues. “Too much effort for so little reward.”
“And the other rooms?” I probe further.
Looking in my general direction, yet not directly at me, he replies, “It’s where I hold the drug and gun shipments,” he admits.
“You look rattled, Antonio,” I taunt with a smile.
Moving closer, he stops before me, giving me his full attention.
