Rescuing Jenna - Anna Blakely Page 0,68

anyone else?

Fuck. No.

“I got this,” Adrian lied with brilliant form.

The CIA had turned him into a world-class liar, after all. They’d also been the ones who taught him how to let everything else go.

Fear. Emotions. All of it.

The Agency had shown him how to become more machine than man in order to focus solely on the mission.

And this mission?

Finding the assholes who took Jenna, taking them down, and bringing her home.

So he’d do as Gabe instructed. Adrian would get his head out of his ass and be a team player.

He’d work with Gabe, Ryker, the rest of Bravo…he’d work with the fucking Coast Guard if it meant finding Jenna and bringing her home.

And once he did that, once she was safe and those responsible had been dealt with, he’d walk away and never look back.

Because there was something he’d learned from all of this. One very important thing he’d been stupid enough to forget…

Happiness and ever-afters were never meant for guys like him.

Chapter 14

Jenna’s head pounded. Her entire face throbbed from the sudden and unexplainable abuse she’d endured.

Her bruised cheek. Swollen eye. Split lip. It all hurt, and she had no idea what she’d done to deserve it.

When the one guy had stormed off earlier after her refusal to eat, she’d wondered if she’d ever see him—or anyone else—ever again. He’d left her alone for so long after that, Jenna had all but convinced herself she wouldn’t.

She was wrong.

A little while ago—keeping track of time had become damn near impossible—the big jerk had come back. And this time, he’d brought a friend.

Jenna wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected when she saw them. It sure as hell wasn’t being uncuffed, dragged to a chair, tied up, and beaten.

But that’s exactly what had happened.

They’d taken turns hitting her. Laughing and taunting her when she’d finally broke down and begged them to stop. Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, the assholes turned and walked away.

There’d been no questions they needed answers to. No explanation as to why. They’d just beaten the crap out of her and then…they left.

Please, God. Let somebody find me soon.

Shivering, Jenna’s body went cold with dread when she heard the door opening once more. She’d always considered herself to be fairly tough, but everyone had their limits.

And after being drugged, starved, and beaten for absolutely no reason, she was definitely close to reaching hers.

“Is she ready?”

Jenna barely had the energy to hold her head up, but the unfamiliar voice somehow gave her the strength to do it.

There’s another one?

Fear threatened to choke her as multiple footfalls reached her ears. When they came into the dim light, she did her best to focus on their faces.

That’s right, assholes. I want to memorize every last detail so I can identify your sorry asses. Assuming I’m still alive to do it.

“Excellent.” The newest member of the Sick Fuck Club approached her with a smile.

Like the other two, the Hispanic man was dressed for success with his designer clothes, spit-shined shoes, and slicked-back hair. Unlike the pricks from before, this man was a bit older.

His black hair was accented with just enough silver at the temples to make him appear distinguished. The slight wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes created an air of wisdom.

But it was his eyes that drew Jenna into the man’s dark, disturbing web.

Their color was almost pure black, and when he stared down at her, it was as if he was looking straight through her.

There was no sign of emotion. No semblance of pity or remorse. Only cold, calculated evil.

“Who are you? ” Jenna rasped.

Did her voice sound as weak to them as it did to her?

“My name is Matais Ortiz,” he introduced himself. His accent was thick as he added, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Shaw.”

Gee, for a murdering psychopath, the guy sure has manners.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered softly. But only because she didn’t have the energy to scream and yell.

“Exactly what you have been providing.” The man took a step closer. “Fear. Agony. Psychological torture.”

Okay, so this guy had clearly lost a few brain cells along the way because he was making absolutely no sense, whatsoever.

“I can see that you are confused.” Matais linked his fingers together, letting his joined hands hang loosely in front of him. “No worries, my dear. You will understand perfectly soon.”

He snapped his fingers—the smug asshole actually snapped them—and the first guy she’d dealt with came forward. He handed Matais something, and