So I was grateful.
Grateful enough to ignore the hunger pains. Grateful enough not to think about how it felt like I was swallowing glass and dirt because there wasn’t any saliva left in my mouth.
But I wasn’t grateful enough not to be scared. Every day, every night, every second I’d been afraid. We’d been on the move for months, never staying in the same place for two nights in a row. Throughout this Tamir hadn’t spoken a single word to me. Not one. He didn’t tell me not to speak or to be quiet. He didn’t ask if I was hungry or needed a restroom. He simply tossed food at me and stopped every few hours when we were driving so I could go to the bathroom. Sometimes on the side of the road.
He hadn’t hit me—as a matter of fact, he hadn’t touched me after he snatched me out of the hotel room I was hiding in. That was the last time I’d heard him speak, as well. He’d taken the call from Evette I’d set up.
He didn’t speak so I didn’t speak.
It creeped me out but I stayed silent, too afraid to break the seal. Too afraid to anger Tamir. I was quietly biding my time until I could get away. But I’d waited too long and now I was well and truly screwed.
What’s the saying? A day late and a dollar short.
I should’ve taken Zane Lewis up on his offer to help me.
I should’ve pushed aside my fear and asked Tamir questions. But mostly I should’ve found a way to escape sooner.
Now I was in what someone might consider a house. No electricity. No furniture. An empty kitchen. Bars on the windows. A door with two deadbolts I couldn’t open. And since there was literally nothing in the house to steal, those deadbolts were meant to lock me in, not keep a thief out.
That scared me, too, what those locks said.
I was a prisoner.
I had a toilet and a trickle of murky water that dripped from the faucet.
And Tamir was gone. He had been for days.
I was not relieved my captor had abandoned me.
He’d spent weeks driving aimlessly around Mexico, not saying a word, freaking me the fuck out, then he dumped me at this house and left. The worst part? I stupidly walked into what would be my tomb. I was going to die in here.
Alone.
With my teeth chattering.
My belly empty.
My throat scratchy.
I was all out of hope.
I was officially one of those too-stupid-to-live women. I deserved to die in this ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere. I prayed Evette London was safe. I hoped she got everything she needed to bring down Aviv Abrams and stop his sick brain experiments. The man was insane. His plan was insane. It was worth dying to stop him.
Those were my thoughts as I drifted in and out of sleep.
Cold and alone.
I woke up when a gloved hand covered my mouth, and I was being lifted off the floor. Fear clogged my throat, so thick I could choke on it.
Tamir was back.
Not again.
Never again.
The first time Tamir took me, I didn’t fight. I was too scared. I knew his past, I knew his reputation, and I knew what he did for my boss. He’d gotten me from behind, one hand around my stomach, the other on my mouth, and I knew all it would’ve taken was a twist, and he could’ve snapped my neck. So I didn’t fight.
So stupid. I should’ve fought. I knew Aviv had sent him to kill me. At least it would’ve been over fast instead of taking a two-month journey only to prolong the inevitable.
This time I was going to claw his eyes out. I would not be one of those women who whimpered and begged. I would die trying to live.
In a fury of anger and fear, I kicked, I slapped, I punched, I twisted my body in an attempt to get away. I heard grunts, his and mine. I heard heavy breathing, his and mine. What I didn’t feel was pain. He wasn’t hitting me back.
“Settle, Delilah.” A deep, rough voice broke through my haze. “I’m here to bring you home.”
Bring you home.
I no longer had a home.
Aviv would never let me live, I knew too much.
I did my best to shove the man away, but I was running out of strength. The man had no such problem subduing my flailing arms and turning me so I was facing away from him. Partly because I was exhausted, partly because he was bigger and stronger. I had one last option available to me and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. I waited until his arm settled across my chest and I dipped my chin and sank my teeth into his forearm. I didn’t stop when he cursed; I bit harder when his arm clamped tighter, and finally, I tasted blood. That was when I gave up the ghost. I was screwed. Aviv sent someone new, maybe this guy would do the deed here in a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere-Mexico.
I sagged in his arms, coming to terms with my reality.
“You done?” he growled.
“No!” But I made no move to struggle.
“Evette sent me,” the man started. “I work—”
“She’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God. Thank God. Thank God,” I chanted.
The man’s arm loosened and he asked, “If I let you go are you gonna fight me?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Are you hurt?”
Just my dignity.
But I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know who this man was, and I belatedly remembered the lessons I’d learned over the last six months—I couldn’t trust anyone. I’d hoped Evette London was alive but the truth was, I wouldn’t be shocked if she were dead. I’d be sad, I’d feel guilty for the remaining time I had on this earth, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
Aviv Abrams was a sick, twisted maniac. Evette London had stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have, documents I should’ve never had access to but did, and I stupidly thought I had an ally. I was so naïve I thought the two of us could expose Abrams. But then, I heard rumors floating around the office that there’d been a security breach and Aviv was sending out a crew to clean up the mess, and I tried to warn Evette to back off. Unfortunately, she didn’t heed my warnings and continued to dig. Fortunately, the first guy Aviv had sent to kill Evette hadn’t succeeded. Tamir Cohen was sent out next, and I knew my time was up. So was Evette’s.
Tamir wasn’t an amateur; he’d get the job done, and he did to some degree when he took out the guy Aviv hired to kill Evette and dumped his body in a landfill. Then Tamir nabbed me, and that brought me to now—in a dilapidated house with another man holding me hostage.
“We need to leave and we can’t do that until I know if you’re hurt.”
Again I remained silent.
“I work for Zane Lewis.” His tone was full of impatience and irritation. “We reached out to you, offering you protection. You agreed to talk to us. By the time I made it to Riverton and Evette made the call it was too late. Tamir had you. When we got a lock on your location in Dulzura I was a few hours too late, he’d moved you again.”
“The rancher,” I whispered. “We weren’t there very long, just enough time for Tamir to push me into the bathroom and shove a towel at me. I showered, and when I was done, we left.”
“We figured he bolted when the rancher started asking questions. Luckily the rancher had wildlife cameras around his property. We were able to identify Tamir Cohen as the driver and confirm you were alive.”