Page 699 of One More Kiss

Ferrari.

Maserati.

Bentley.

All of them are methods of liberation.

The exhilaration I feel in this moment is wrongly shadowed by another emotion—a sinking calamity, an embittered regret. I stupidly wish Tomás Souza had finished what he had threatened. My thoughts aimlessly wander to the darkest part of my mind, to forbidden climaxes and wicked stolen kisses.

I quickly suck in a steadying breath and snap myself out of the silly daydream. A sigh escapes me and I round my shoulders. My head shakes at my ignorance as I flip up the see-through lid.

It doesn’t matter which fob I steal, or which car I select for my getaway. A man with money to burn would buy a replacement before I’ve eaten my next meal.

The facts are, if I don’t get out of here, I’m a dead woman. My natural instincts to survive are stronger than any fleeting fascination. So what if he let me sleep in his bed all night? There’s clearly a calculated method to his unnerving plan. And I’m not prepared to hang around to find out what challenge comes next.

I take one last look at the opulent suite before meeting the wall on the terrace and checking for any sign of life below. Certain his armed guards aren’t close by, I climb up onto the ledge and squint as the blinding ball of golden fire kisses the high level mist.

Rotating my body, I gradually lower to my belly so my legs dangle and my toes feel out a foothold in the flimsy frame of climbing roses. My heart is beating so fast, making me lightheaded. Sweaty palms make the descent more precarious. The weight of the fob in my pocket reminds me of the half thought out plan I’ve put into motion. To leave the Souza behind in a cloud of dust raked up from the spinning wheels of a Maserati—if I have enough time to find the car garage and creep under the radar of the surveillance cameras.

My teeth bite down as I concentrate. One wrong step and I’d likely break a bone, putting an end to any chance of an eager getaway. The second my foot rests on the gravel, my pulse picks up speed. I crouch low to hide from the windows beneath the terrace. At this angle, I don’t see any outside security cameras, nor do I hear any movement.

After tucking strands of unkempt hair behind my ears, I stare at my shaky hands. It’s all or nothing. Now or never.

I take a moment to breathe and scan the manicured garden for a glimpse of human life. Once I’m certain there’s no one around to see me escape, I scramble on hands and knees under the windowsills. There has to be a garage where cars are parked out of sight.

Rounding the side of the mansion, I recognize the stone archway leading to the barn I was held in, but it’s in the distance. And I’m out in the open. A badly dressed stranger who’ll be visible to any of the working staff or eagle-eyed henchmen if I continue.

Nonetheless, I gulp down jaggy fear and run. I dart across the gravel, feeling gritty stones burrow into the soles of my already achy feet. If I make it to the barn, I can hide in a stable, catch my breath, and think of a winning plan.

“DON’T FUCKING MOVE.” A masculine voice riddled with bitter authority booms through the stillness. “Take one more step and it’ll be your last. Put your hands where I can see them.”

The second I obey, Elias storms into view dressed in casual creamy slacks and a baby pink linen shirt. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?” His accusing tone slithers over me in a shiver. He reaches behind his back and produces a handgun. “I knew I should’ve killed you yesterday. My gut is never wrong. And here you are. A rogue motherfucking puta in my territory who thinks she can get the better of the Souzas.”

His silvery gaze roams from unbrushed tendrils to the sports socks on my sore feet. The silent assessment swallowing the baggy clothes belonging to his son. “Why are you out here?” On that last word, he aims the barrel of his gun at my chest. “Never mind. Tomás was going to kill you after breakfast. I’ll save him the hassle and finish you now.”

“Papá!” The crunch of determined footsteps carries in the pause between life and death.

Tomás appears from under the archway, every determined step spitting up tiny stones in his wake. One step behind him, Shane whips off his reflective aviators and pockets them in an untucked tribal print shirt, his eyes narrowed and unreadable. The second I see them, my ribs tighten.

Tomás’ stubble appears darker. The diamonds in his earlobes catch the sunlight, a contrast to his pitch-black stare. He’s dressed casually, wearing a baseball cap that shades his eyes, and low slung jersey shorts sitting below bare washboard abs.

For a fleeting beat of time, fear feathers with desire. Yet his stern expression doesn’t falter, doesn’t soften, nor does it offer me any hint of compassion.

Without saying another word, he stands by his father’s side. “What’s going on?”

Elias laughs darkly. “Just in time, son. This angel faced traitor was spying on us. She’s even wearing your clothes.”

Tomás rolls his neck and scratches his jaw. “I brought her inside last night, Papá.” He glances over at me, then seizes the gun from his father’s hand. “She was in my bed last night.”

“You fucked her?” Elias narrows his eyes.

Rather than deny it, Tomás simply shrugs. I swallow hard, my veins scorching and my mind spinning. I’m so confused.

Fury contorts Elias’ mouth as he makes a blood curdling growl. “Christ, Tomás. I thought André was the whore hungry Souza. Why the hell did you fuck her in my house?”

“I was bored. Anyway, I can fuck whoever the hell I want. You taught me well, Papá.” Tomás repositions the cap on his head and shoves the gun in the waistband of his shorts. “And now I’m getting rid of her like you asked.”

“You should have slit her throat last night. Fuck knows who’s she contacted. Don’t forget who runs the show around here. You…” Elias stabs the air with his finger. “You do what I fucking tell you to do. Give me the gun, Tomás. I’ll end this bullshit once and for all.”

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