Page 74 of Rami

“Trying,” the driver said.

“Glad she’s awake. It’s her turn to get a shovel to the head.”

Ivy wet her lips and bit back a snarky comment. Further angering the men who held her captive wouldn’t serve her. She’d already done more than enough to make them want to torture her slowly. Nevertheless, her glare was hot enough to set a forest fire.

The driver snorted. “Not yet. That’ll piss off the boss. I want my turn with her first, rake up her pretty face like she did mine.”

“What do you want?” Ivy hissed.

Gabriel smirked. “I want to hurt you, puta.” He reached forward and stroked his knuckles over her cheek.

Goosebumps erupted on her flesh and a warning blared in her head. She jerked out of his reach before his fingertips touched her lips.

“Just wait until he sees you,” Gabriel added. His words sent a flashfire of terror through her body.

Who? She swallowed the question. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he scared her. He’d thrive on it.

Gravel crunched beneath tires and headlights lit the forest beyond the fire. A sedan rolled up next to the van and the driver got out. He went to the passenger side and opened the door and another man slid from the vehicle.

“Finally,” Gabriel sighed. His mouth melted into a salacious grin. “Wait with her, Luis,” he told the driver.

Little puffs of air came in and out of Ivy’s nose. She couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t regulate the panic infusing her cells. Gabriel met the two newcomers and Ivy watched their exchange. Gabriel nodded in her direction.

The two men stood in shadows. It was impossible to make them out, but it was unlikely she knew them. She hadn’t seen many faces during her time in the camper, and none of the guards she’d seen when they checked on her had stuck in her mind.

Gabriel started walking toward her. One of the men following him wore pressed black dress pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She couldn’t make out his face, but his hair appeared to be neatly slicked back. A red ember burned from the tip of a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The other newcomer wore jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. Not nearly as neat-and-tidy looking as the businessman.

Oh god. This had to be the leader.

All the moisture left her mouth as their footfalls grew closer. Twigs cracked and critters skittered through the trees in ominous warning.

Luis said something under his breath that she didn’t catch. Couldn’t catch. All her senses were focused on the group fast approaching. Her nerve endings sizzled to attention. Her gaze locked on the leader’s every move.

Everything about the man screamed power.

Gabriel stopped a few paces short of Ivy’s feet and the men circled her, their bodies blocking every avenue of escape. Trembles threatened to take hold of her limbs, but she balled her fists against the tree to stop herself.

Weakness would get her nowhere.

Slowly, she dragged her gaze from Gabriel’s face to the well-groomed man next to him who dominated the energy of the trio. The man dressed in jeans stood back, away from the glow of the flashlight in Luis’s hand. Not that her gaze was drawn to him.

Her fate lay in the leader’s hands. There was no mistaking who’d call the shots.

The leader reached for the flashlight and Luis passed it to him. The beam hit her in the face. Sharp, needly pain pierced her eyes, and she turned her head to avoid the blinding light.

“Pretty, ain’t she, Fernando?”

Unease coiled around her spine at the sound of the name she’d heard them arguing about in the car. Once again, she wished she could have understood them. As it stood, she knew very little about the man orchestrating her demise.

Fernando brought the cigarette to his lips and took a slow drag. The red end sent an eerie glow over his face. Ivy was certain that if Satan were a man, he’d look just like Fernando. He took another puff of his smoke then flicked it into a pile of dirt at the base of the tree.

“Hola, Ms. Hastings. Do you remember me?” As he spoke, the rancid, ashy scent of tobacco and burnt paper permeated the air.

She choked back a gag and dropped her gaze to the forest floor, not wanting to give him her focus.

His dress shoe kicked her foot. “I’m talking to you.” All the formality had left his voice. Demand clung to his very essence. This was someone who didn’t like to be disrespected, especially in front of his men.

But bowing to him would show weakness. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t remember you.”

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