Page 72 of Tainted Obsession 1
Maybe they plan to share the girl. The other two drug lords didn’t stop the disgusting auction.
My heart aches for her. She’d clearly been unwilling and terrified out of her mind.
Massimo will probably be gentle with her. He’ll coax her into his bed, just like he fooled me.
How could I be so stupid? I spent years engaged to George, when all he did was take me for granted and ultimately put my life at risk for his own gain.
And now I’ve run straight into the arms of a different monster. Massimo has never hidden his mafia ties from me, and that engendered some sort of twisted trust between us.
But just because he doesn’t hide his crimes doesn’t absolve him. He’s shown me who he really is tonight.
The diamonds chafe against my skin, as though the precious metal that encases them has been dipped in acid. I claw at the clasp, desperate to get the sign of his ownership off my neck.
The clasp opens, and I drop the necklace to the polished hardwood floor as though it burns me. I place my hand on my bare throat, reassuring myself that the awful weight is gone.
I draw in several deep breaths, struggling to tame my tangled thoughts.
Berating myself for my foolishness won’t save me.
For the first time, Massimo has left me alone. He obviously believes I’m thoroughly under his control, and he can amuse himself elsewhere while I obediently wait for his return.
Stefano promised that no one would dare to cross the threshold to get to me—this is Adrián’s mansion, and I fully believe that no one will challenge the sadistic cartel kingpin.
But he didn’t lock me in from the outside. There’s nothing to stop me from leaving this place.
From the little I’ve seen of the town and its jungle surroundings, I know that we’re somewhere very remote. Men in military uniforms patrol the streets. There’s a chance that they’re loyal to Adrián, but that doesn’t mean they’re loyal to Massimo.
I’m an American citizen, and I’ve been kidnapped by a mafia boss.
Massimo doesn’t seem to care about the threat that US law enforcement poses to his organization, but I bet the local officials will. If I get to one of the soldiers and tell them about my plight, they’ll contact the American authorities. This is my way home.
George is still in Mexico City, looking for me. But I’ll be safely back in Albuquerque, under federal protection, by the time he finds out that I’ve been rescued. I’ll tell the DEA the truth about George’s corruption. He’ll be arrested, and he won’t be able to kill me to keep his terrible secret.
I don’t know how long Massimo will be distracted by the poor girl he purchased like an object rather than a human being.
Maybe I can convince the authorities to save her too.
Before I lose my nerve, I gather my composure and slip out into the night. Humid air draws a sheen of sweat to the surface of my skin within seconds, but I ignore the discomfort. My dress is lightweight enough that I won’t overheat—Massimo made sureto dress me up like his little doll, a pretty toy he likes to adorn with silk and gems.
The black silk clings to my sticky skin as I hurry through the empty streets. At this late hour, no one seems to frequent the wealthy, small neighborhood.
Maybe all of the residents are at that awful club.
I shudder and shove the heart wrenching memories from my mind before the agony of Massimo’s betrayal overwhelms me again.
I round a corner, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Two men in military fatigues stroll down the street, which clearly divides the wealthy neighborhood from the more impoverished part of town. The buildings opposite me are painted in fading pastels and built in crumbling stucco. Behind me, the mansions seem more garish and incongruous than ever.
The men spot me and quicken their pace, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. I square my shoulders and meet them halfway, refusing to show weakness or fear. I will get back home, and these men will help me. Calm competence will serve me better than desperate tears.
“I need your help,” I say in Spanish, speaking clearly and firmly. “I’m an American citizen, and I’ve been brought here against my will. I need to contact the authorities so that I can get back home. Can you please take me to your superior officer or someone who can help me do this?”
One of the men blinks, as though he’s completely taken aback. I suppose the entire situation is a bit bizarre. I’m wearing an expensive gown and designer heels, but I’m wandering around the streets alone at night. And I speak fluent Spanish despite the obvious American accent I can’t quite smooth away.
“Who brought you here?” the one who isn’t utterly bewildered asks, his eyes roving over me in a way that sets my teeth on edge.
“A man who kidnapped me when I was visiting Mexico City,” I reply as evenly as I can manage.
