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The moment Dad can talk, he begins to plead, “Don’t do this. Please. Let my daughter go. She’s innocent.”
Slowly, I turn my head to look at Dad because it sounds like he knows why we’re here.
“Shut up,” one of the men snaps as she slaps Dad against the side of the head.
Two of the men leave, and the remaining two pull guns from behind their backs, where they are tucked into the waistband of their pants.
“You’ll remain kneeling and only speak when spoken to,” one of them orders.
My knees begin to ache from digging into the cold concrete, and my body trembles like a leaf in a shit storm.
I hear calculated footsteps approach the room, and a moment later, a man walks in, his demeanor predatory.
Recognition has my eyes widening again, and I stare at the man who’s been watching me. The one who cornered me in the restroom last night.
Today, he’s wearing a pale green suit, and it makes the green ring around his irises pop. The brown almost looks gold, and once again, it reminds me of a tiger.
Immediately I know he’s in charge from the power radiating from him.
My breaths keep bursting over my lips, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
A chair is brought in, and without even looking, the man takes a seat while casually undoing the buttons of his jacket.
Jesus, he’s terrifying.
Slowly his eyes settle on me before moving to Dad and stopping on Dr. Bentall. There’s so much rage in his gaze it makes my fear grow tenfold.
When his eyes flick back to me, I flinch from the startling impact of having them focused on me.
It feels like an eternity passes before he takes a deep breath and nods at one of his men.
One by one, we’re searched. They take Dr. Bentall and Dad’s phones and wallets, and tossing the wallets on the metal table, they hand the phones to the man who’s in charge.
When his lips part, his voice is such a low and deep timbre it makes shivers rush over my skin.
“Do any of you know who I am?”
I instantly shake my head, my hair wildly flipping over my shoulders.
“Renzo Torrisi,” Dad whispers, his tone drenched with fear.
My eyes flit between Dad and the man.
The man holds Dad’s gaze as he demands, “Who did you buy the kidney from?”
What?
When I gasp, Renzo’s eyes flick back to me, and I cringe again.
“Dr. Bentall made all the arrangements,” Dad answers hurriedly.
Renzo keeps staring at me as he asks, “Who was your contact?”
I’m about to wet myself as I whisper, “I don’t know.”
Annoyance flashes over Renzo’s face before he looks at Dr. Bentall, who quickly answers, “A man by the name of Manual Castellanos.”
Renzo pulls his phone out of his breast pocket and makes a call.
