Seventy-Two

After dinner, Sabrina was escorted back to her room by one of Reyes’s men. She walked as slowly as she possibly could without arousing suspicion, desperate to gain an advantage in this game he was playing with her.

She and Christina had been ordered to eat the rest of their meals in silence and even though it’d killed her, she’d complied without protest. As soon as his plate was cleared, Leo was led away by a guard. His little arm stretched up, legs working double time to keep up with the long-legged stride of the man who’d been charged with returning him to wherever he was being kept. Even as he was being taken, Leo watched her, his neck craned so he could keep her in his sights, waiting for her to object. To do something to help him.

To rescue him.

She looked at the guard walking next to her. The gun housed in the sole of her boot seemed to burn a hole in her foot. So close and yet unreachable. She was going to have to do something to change that.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she said, stopping in her tracks.

The guard turned and reached for her arm. “You have a bathroom in your suite. You can wait.”

“I wouldn’t touch me if I were you,” she said, pulling her arm from his grip.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he said, snatching at her bicep again, this time clamping down on it with more than a little strength, giving her a shake that slammed her head into the wall.

Reaching through the stars that danced in front of her, Sabrina grabbed his sleeve, dropping her hip and pivoting to pull the guard off balance while bringing her hand up, cupping it so that she could drive the L formed between her pointer and thumb into the soft flesh of his throat, directly into his windpipe. His shoulders snapped forward, free hand grabbing at his throat while he visibly sucked wind. “Because I don’t like it,” she said, letting go of the arm she held while taking a step away from him, waiting for the hornet’s nest she’d just kicked to erupt on her.

Laughter sounded from farther down the hall. For a moment she thought it was Reyes, but no … it belonged to a man about twenty years his junior. Same small features. Same cruel mouth. Same vacant eyes.

“To be fair, Eduardo, she did try to warn you,” he said, his laughter tapering off into a disgusted chuckle. He glanced at his watch. “Go.” He looked up at her and smirked. “I think I can handle our guest from here.”

They watched Eduardo stagger down the hall for a moment before she turned to the man standing beside her. “I’m Estefan Reyes,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

She looked at it. Didn’t take it. “I know who you are. I still need to use the bathroom.”

Estefan dropped his hand and looked at his watch. “Of course,” He gave her a small bow, sweeping his arm toward a set of double doors. “This way.”

Opening the doors onto a darkened room, he clicked on a table lamp that revealed a well-appointed study. Lifting a crystal carafe from a table near the door, he poured a small glass of something clear, drinking its contents in a single shot. “Would you like one?” he said, refilling the glass before holding it out to her, half invitation, half dare.

Sabrina glanced quickly at the desk clock to her left. It was 8:47. She had thirteen minutes to get back to her room before the door locked her out. Was he purposely stalling her so she’d be punished or was he just playing a game of chicken, trying to see how far she’d go before she flinched?

“Thanks,” she said, taking the glass from him. Tipping it back, she poured the liquid down her throat, barely feeling the burn before her belly caught fire. She handed the glass back, careful to keep their fingers from touching.

He flicked a glance at her to gauge her reaction while pouring himself another shot. This one he sipped. “Absinthe. My father has it imported from Prague. Nearly a hundred and eighty proof. He has a collection of them—high-proof spirits. The more dangerous, the better.” He took a sip. “Care for another?”

Another shot of that would knock her on her ass. She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He grinned at her “Cartero never drank. Never quite fit in here, despite the things he did for my father.”

“That’s because he’s a good man,” she said, her veiled insult pulling another smile from her host.

“Good man … Should I tell you of the last time I saw Cartero kill for my father? It was right here.” He gestured toward the carpet they were both standing on. “His name was Garrett—an American college student. Your lover—” He cocked his head at her, running his eyes up the length of her before settling them on her mouth. “He has fucked you, hasn’t he?”

The urge to flinch, to simply leave and find her own way back was almost too strong to resist, but she had a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted. Before she had the chance to tell him to go to hell, he continued.

“Your lover gave him a Colombian necktie.” He stepped into her, lifting his hand to her throat. “That’s where we take a knife and slice you from ear to ear,” he said, trailing a finger along the underside of her jaw, the slide of his skin against hers making her feel as if she were crawling with insects. “Then”—he reached up and gripped her chin, pulling her mouth open—“we tear your tongue out and pull it through the gash in your neck.” She jerked her chin away from his hand and he smirked, eyes locked on hers. “Cartero cut his throat right here, where we’re standing, while poor Garrett begged for his life. We put down a plastic sheet so the blood wouldn’t ruin my father’s favorite rug. Would a good man do that?”

Sabrina resisted the urge to look away, refusing to let him see how much his story had affected her. “I think a good man would do anything he had to do to protect the people he cared for,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even. “And I still need to use the bathroom.”

He laughed, and just like that, whatever dark spell he’d been able to spin around them was broken. “My apologies,” he said. “It’s just through there.” He took a seat on the plush leather couch across from her.

As soon as she was in the bathroom she locked the door, leaning her forehead against it for just a moment, trying to breathe her way through the doubt and fear that heaped around her.

Get your shit together, darlin’.

Wade’s voice came through loud and clear, and for once, it wasn’t the most frightening thing going on inside her head.

She lowered the toilet lid and sat down to work her boots off. They’d been a Christmas gift from Ben, of course, and he’d been beyond proud to show her the molded compartments built into their soles. Pulling up the inserts, she retrieved the LCP and magazines, setting them down quietly so she could relace her boots.

Standing, she flushed the toilet just as someone knocked on the door. Quickly, she tucked the compact gun and extra magazines into the top of her boot, her pant leg covering them completely. “I’m almost finished,” she said, washing her hands and drying them before she opened the door.

Alberto Reyes stood on the other side.