he splashed around in the water, he marked her retreat.
She swam beneath the surface, guiding the shoe along the top as she raced to the far shore.
“Get me out of here!” He continued to thrash, moving away from the floating dome of spiders. “I can’t find her, you son of a bitch! Get your men in here and fix this!”
The spotlight switched on, blinding his eyes. It pointed away from the direction she’d swam. The cover of trees should hide her exit from the water, but he kept flailing, ensuring all attention remained on him.
No one came to his rescue. They stood around like the heartless fucks that they were and waited for him to drag his ass to the shore. He took his time and made a lot of noise, giving her an extra minute to flee.
“You killed her.” He trudged out of the pond and collapsed onto his knees, heaving. “You owe me three million and a lot of goddamn groveling. Take me to my plane.”
“I don’t think so.” Marco prowled forward.
Yeah, he hadn’t thought so, either.
As he pushed to stand, he was so focused on not looking for Vera on the far shore that he missed the butt of a rifle swinging toward his head. He saw it just as it collided with his skull.
Pain ricocheted. The ground rose up, and the world went black.
CHAPTER 26
Luke woke without clothes.
The room was austerely gray. Prosaic. No windows. One door. Fluorescent lights. Concrete walls. And a large steel table, which he was bent over. With his feet on the floor, his arms stretched over his head, his hands were shackled with handcuffs—the standard-issue police variety.
It was a cartel interrogation room.
The cuffs connected to a chain that fastened beneath the table. A rod between his ankles forced them apart and secured to something beneath him. He gave the restraints a testing yank. No give.
His skull pounded from the collision with a rifle, and a burning itch flared on his forearm around two red fang marks. But those were the least of his problems.
He wasn’t alone.
“Oh, good,” he murmured, his voice cracking with dry rot. “The whole family is here.”
Ignoring him, Silvia and her four brothers communed beside a wall of shelves filled with fetish equipment and instruments of torture.
He was no stranger to the array of tools that sadists used to correct, fuck, and break a body. Eight years ago, he’d learned how to endure the full spectrum of pain, purgatory and hell, and every torment in between. He’d barely survived those weeks.
I won’t survive it again.
That disparaging thought was overshadowed by a more pressing one.
Vera.
Was she still alive? Had she made it through the breach in the wall? What if she’d been bitten too many times to recover?
He shook off his worst fears and fantasized about her sprinting through the junkyard in the cloak of darkness, armed with weapons from the armory, reaching a busy street, and waving down a motorist with a gun.
It was an impossible notion. She’d had three years to escape, and God knew she’d tried.
But maybe this time was different. The cartel was distracted with whatever they were planning for him. And she had Silvia’s key, which gave her access to places she hadn’t been able to go before. Places she could hide without cameras. But if she’d gone to the armory, she would’ve been detected. Alarms would’ve sounded.
What had he missed while he was unconscious? He couldn’t have been out for longer than a few minutes. Not long enough for Silvia to leave his side and discover that her key card had been swapped out.
Hopefully.
He wouldn’t ask the cartel a single question about Vera. If they told him she was dead, he wouldn’t believe them. He couldn’t. By the looks of the instruments they were considering, they intended to torture him. Physically. Psychologically. Any manner they pleased.
The silver lining? He didn’t see a container of spiders anywhere.
Silvia turned and sashayed toward him. Her red lips curved into a smirk, causing his heart to whack against his ribs like a caged animal. Then he saw the apparatus in her hand.
A metal dildo the size of Tomas’ dick strapped to a leather harness. Strap-ons were Liv Reed’s specialty, and he’d been on the receiving end of her thrusts more than once. But she’d used phalluses with a squeezable texture. Never metal.
Wordlessly, he watched Silvia lift her red dress and expose her bare cunt. Just as wordlessly, her brothers gathered around, staring boldly at the disturbingly erotic