Unshackle (Deliver #7) - Pam Godwin Page 0,4

the yawning foyer, her painted lips curving into a soft smile.

What was her purpose here? Hostess? Liaison? Kinky party planner? Did she fuck the guests? Or hold down the victims while they were violated and abused?

Glancing over his shoulder, he exchanged a look with Tomas. On the surface, his friend wore the unflinching, alert demeanor of a bodyguard. That alertness was real. While Luke played the megalomaniac pervert role with the cartel, Tomas would discreetly scope out the lay of the land.

On Tula’s last day in Jaulaso Prison, a dying inmate had choked out, C-C-Calaaa. An attempt to tell her where to find her sister. Now, six months later, Luke was in California with Vera literally in his grasp. But where in California was he exactly?

Beyond the open windows, acres of land stretched out in every direction. At the farthest perimeter, a fortification of walls enclosed the compound, providing protection against the cartel’s enemies. It also prevented guests on the inside from identifying any landmarks around them.

What was out there? Desert? Suburbia? One of the edge cities in Orange County?

It was Tomas’ job to find out, as well as gather intel on the cartel’s security guards, weapons, and technology. Once he uncovered something useful, they faced the task of transmitting it to the Freedom Fighters, who waited on standby in Orange County. Their friends would come, armed to the teeth, the moment they knew the location.

Tomas’ expression didn’t confess their agenda. Nor did it show his outrage at seeing Vera Gomez greeting them with a smile. Tula had been so certain her sister wasn’t involved. Even now, Luke didn’t want to believe what was right in front of him.

He planted his shoes on the tile, bringing Vera to an abrupt halt. Startled, she whirled on him, her mouth opening to speak. He didn’t give a fuck what she had to say.

Knocking her hand off his arm, he grabbed her throat and yanked her against him. The force of his strength caused her to wobble in the heels.

Two men stepped forward, reaching for hidden weapons. She held out a hand, staying them, and he used that opportunity to angle her neck and put her left ear near his mouth.

“Never,” he breathed, cold and calculated, “ever touch me without my permission.”

At odds with his cruel tone, he tenderly curled her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. A gesture meant to confuse her as he imperceptibly exposed the skin behind her earlobe.

And there it was, exactly where Tula said it would be. A small black flower tattoo.

Fucking fuck.

The proof of her identity sank into his bones like burning ash. Disgusted, he stepped away, strolling ahead without waiting.

The click of her heels sounded, giving chase.

“Your rooms are this way.” She passed him, veering right, shoulders back, and chin raised. No eye contact. Probably because she couldn’t hide that butthurt look in her pinched expression. Good.

She guided him through arched doorways designed to let breezes flow through the estate. High ceilings added to the open-air concept, but his stifling unease didn’t abate.

Voices drifted from unseen rooms. Deep rumbles. Feminine titters. Sounds of flirtation and foreplay. He hardened himself against it, bracing for the hours and days to come.

Other than Vera, the women within these walls weren’t here of their own volition. They didn’t want rotten, horny, old men touching them. But before the night was over, Luke would shed the last of his humanity and become one of their tormentors.

Through passageways and common areas, Vera narrated the function of each space. With flicks of a hand, she rattled off directions to the indoor gym, spa, main pool, and communal dining room.

He focused on what she didn’t point out. Cameras in the ceilings of every room and corridor. Weapons beneath the shirts of every cartel member. Vacancy in the eyes of every young female.

They were all young. As in not legal. Not legal age or citizenship. The half-dressed girls milled about carrying drink trays, mopping floors, and entertaining the guests.

A white-haired man in a suit sat on the veranda with a snake-skinned boot propped on the coffee table. An oil baron? Texan rancher? Probably a greasy politician. A topless Asian girl perched on his lap, staring at nothing as he fondled her breasts.

In the pool beyond, another girl bent over the side, moaning half-heartedly while an obese man plowed into her from behind.

At the end of the hall, a petite brunette sat on the floor of a sunlit library, playing with a menagerie of plastic animal figurines.