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“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I said, forcing my words to come out slower than the racing beat of my heart.
He followed me, stopping where I stopped next to the dresser, and he leaned in closer, but so slowly, I almost felt like a frog in cold water, oblivious to the rising heat.
“I wasn’t asking,signorina,” he said, though, by the dark desire in his eyes, I could imagine the huskiness in his tone.
Then he moved, lightning fast.
Something cold wrapped around my wrist, trapping it.
He yanked me toward the bed by the cold cuff around my wrist and fastened the other to the wrought iron headboard, so fast I had no time to respond, to escape. Not enough time to do more than shriek in protest.
“No!” I shouted, trying to scramble away as far as the short chain between the cuffs would allow.
“Buena notte, Heidi,” he said.
Then he turned around and left the room, flicking the light off as he went and closing the door behind him.
Bloody hell.
My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the edge of the bed.
My heart raced; my body shook. It felt like he'd pulled a rug out from under me, leaving me reeling for balance.
He’d been one step ahead of me, already anticipating my escape.
Tomorrow, I’d look for an icepick I could take to the cuffs. Had to get out of those before I could go slitting anybody’s throat, didn’t I?
Chapter Six
Amadeo
I scrubbed my hands through my hair as I stared at the closed bedroom door.El víbora’sface flashed behind my eyes—the sick fuck who’d dealt in women until we’d taken him down. And Javier Domínguez, the man who’d kidnapped people for ransom.
And here I was, standing on the same goddamned side of their twisted fence.
I had no qualms about being a criminal; the people I killed deserved it, and I had no illusions about where the Lucianos’ money came from. Guns. Drugs. Skin—consenting skin that was well-paid.
And the truth was that I’d do a hell of a lot worse to get my hands on Bianchi—evident by the stubborn, defiant beauty cuffed to the bed.
Kidnapper,that’s what I’d become. I could practically feel a familiar pair of hazel eyes glaring at me. Greta Agossi was going to give me hell.
I sighed and turned away, but I hadn’t made it two steps back down the hallway when my phone rang. I pulled it out and checked the number. It looked vaguely familiar, but tired and frazzled—and more than a little in need of a mind-clearing fuck—it took me a moment to place it.
“Pronto,” I said as I answered the phone and put it to my ear.
“I have a feeling I got to see your handiwork up close and personal last night,” a feminine voice spoke. A familiar, feminine voice.
“Raven?”
“Take a look,” she said, and my phonedingeda second later.
I checked the photo she’d sent, which turned out to be a quickly taken snapshot of a corpse on an operating table. The blood in my veins coursed a little faster and my free hand curled into a fist. I had a feeling that corpse belonged to one of the men who’d gotten away from us earlier.
“Interesting pastime you have there,amica.Taking photos of dead men?”
She scoffed, but there was laughter in the sound. “Maybe the next time you or your men shoot somebody, you could do those of us who work in the ER a favor and make sure they’re actually dead. The jerk who came in with him pulled a gun on me and the doctor who was trying to save his life—which is kind of a crappy thing to do, in my opinion.”
“My apologies,” I said, trying not to laugh. Raven could hold her own, though she always reminded me of a spirited squirrel. Or maybe a cockatoo—intelligent, energetic, and prone to nip if you got too cocky. And after the night I’d had, some asshole waving a gun in some arrogant doctor’s face hardly made it onto the “shit I’m going to worry about” list.
