Page 68 of Exposed

Her head swam and nausea bubbled in her stomach from the sweet smelling rag. The bastards must have used chloroform. There were a few of them, three at least. Those odds would betough. She set her jaw. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t dying here. What the hell did they want with her anyway? A laugh rumbled in the hallway, deep and throaty. A door closed, shutting off the other voices. Had someone left? If there were fewer men, she’d have a shot at this. She twisted her wrists, willing them to mold together to gain just a few more millimeters of space between the rope and her skin.

A man stepped into the room and slipped his phone in his pocket.

Rage shot through her. His mouth twisted into a smile and he strode toward her. He wasn’t very tall, she’d guess five-foot-ten at most. Short grey hair with a sharply receding hairline topped his head. He wore pressed black slacks and a black polo shirt.

The man that had grabbed her? It was hard to be certain, but his bulky build and height matched. His eyes never left her face, which was a good thing because her hands were almost free. With her back only inches from the wall, she could untie the rope without him catching her—unless he decided to check them.

“Hola, Senorita. You’re probably wondering why you’re here.” His English was broken up between bouts of thick accent. He scooped a chair up, set it down a few feet in front of her, and sat. “You can relax, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Did he think she was stupid? She scoffed, the sound rude and derisive. “Oh, sure. That’s why you chloroformed me and threw me in the back of a van?”

His lips twitched and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. This close, the fine lines in his face revealed their depth. Dark purple colored the bridge of his nose. Aha. It was the same man. Satisfaction swelled in her chest. He’d be sporting more injuries shortly.

He wasn’t very young, probably mid-forties, though his skin was a deep brown with color and damage from the sun.

“Ah, I heard you would be mouthy. Let’s make this quick then, shall we?” He shifted in his seat and pulled something small from his pocket. His fingers closed over the object, concealing it.

“You tell me what you want with Carlos Santiago, and I won’t peel the skin off your face.” He spoke casually, but light sparkled in his eyes. The soft swish of metal snapped her gaze to his hand. A switchblade. Her throat clenched and the blood drained from her face. She wet her lips, her breath coming out in sharp frantic puffs.

Don’t show your fear.

Had Hector set this up? She set her teeth. That would be the most likely scenario. Hector would try to get the truth and present the evidence to Carlos to regain the respect he’d lost. She narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders. He might think he had the upper hand by restraining her, but he hadn’t tied her feet. Stupid move. The rope was loose and had slid down the palm of one of her hands. She just needed a few more minutes…

“Who are you?”

He made a tsking sound with his teeth and shook his head. “Sorry honey, I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Why?”

The heels of the chair scuffed against the floor, and he stood. He turned his back to her and paced the small space between them. Her fingers eased the last loop of rope around her wrists off. She held it tight in her hands. If she dropped it, he would see that she had gotten out. Her eyes skimmed the room. She could take him no problem, but she might need a weapon if she couldn’t dislodge the knife from his tight grip.

Her eyes landed on a small metal table with chairs in the corner of the room. On the top rested her shoulder bag. Yes! If she could take this guy out, she could grab her purse and call Nate.

He stopped in front of her. His free hand toyed with the end of the sharp blade, as he inched closer.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. In the meantime,” he said, a salacious grin splitting the worn leather of his cheeks, “I’m going to enjoy getting you to talk.”

He reached the blade out and lifted the hem of her shirt with the tip of it. Her abdomen curled in, and she sucked in a breath through her nose. His tobacco stained teeth flashed at her and he grinned widely.

“You ready to talk, Maddie?”

Her teeth slammed together in a snarl. “Go to hell,” she breathed.

She shot her foot out, catching him in the groin. His hand jerked, and the blade caught her below the belly button. Pain seared across her stomach and a cry sounded from her throat. She leapt to her feet as he sucked in his breath, his hand clutching his balls.

“You’re going to pay for that, puta.” His face contorted with rage and sweat trickled from the redness at his cheeks. He straightened, the knife poised and ready in front of him.

Maddie smiled and took one swift step toward him. She spun into a heel kick and caught his forearm with her foot. His hand loosened like jelly and the knife skittered across the floor. He clenched his hands into fists and charged at her. She stepped back, grabbed his wrist, and propelled him to the floor. He hit the laminate and air wheezed out of his lungs. Maddie leapt on his back and twisted his arms behind him, then secured his wrists—only in a better knot—with the ropes he’d used on her.

“You won’t get away. Go ahead and run, my men will be back any minute and we’ll find you.” Blood trickled from his temple and a large scrape adorned his elbow.

Maddie grunted and gave the ropes one last tug. She kicked the knife out of his reach, strode across the room, and picked upher bag. She lowered her focus from her bag to her loose-fitted T-shirt. Blood stained the material at her belly.

She eased up her shirt and winced. It wasn’t bad—just a lot of blood. She lifted her purse to her shoulder and walked toward the hallway. A long flight of stairs met her and she bounded down them toward the door at the bottom. A side door sat next to the exit, likely the entrance to the club.

She had to get ahold of Nate. Had they lost Carlos? Dammit. He could have already made the exchange and she’d missed it.

She reached for the old metal door and her hand closed over the warm knob. She pushed against it gently, but it swung out from under her and she stumbled outside. Hard hands grasped her shoulders and hefted her to her feet.

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