Page 83 of Beast

Damien circles a cluster of warehouses down by the docks with a pen. “This would be my guess. They’re isolated, lots of space, easy to defend.”

One of my men, Alvaro, speaks up. “We scouted the area earlier today anyway as we’ve been keeping tabs on Pablo as instructed. There’s definitely unusual activity around here.” He indicates a warehouse right on the waterfront. “Guards patrolling with assault rifles, lots of vehicles coming and going. It’s got to be where he’s keeping her.”

I feel a spark of hope cut through the rage. We’ve already zeroed in on where Blake likely is. Now we need to figure out how to get her out.

“Alright,” I say. “Let’s talk strategy. We’ll need a distraction, draw some of the guards away from the building. Then a small team can infiltrate while they’re occupied. Get in, get Blake, get out.”

The men nod. I can see the anticipation on their faces. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity to hit back at Estrada. And none of them want to face my wrath if we fail to retrieve Blake.

For the next hour, we meticulously plan the operation. I know these men would die for me; their loyalty has been proven time and again for me and my company. And I know they’ll stop at nothing to get Blake back safely.

By the time we finish ironing out all the details, night has fallen over the city. Perfect cover for our mission. I feel adrenaline beginning to flow again in anticipation of the action ahead.

It’s time. I nod to my men. “Let’s go get her.”

We move out into the night, a well-oiled machine focused on a single purpose. In a few hours, Blake will be back where she belongs. And my enemy will understand why he should never provoke a beast.

37

BLAKE

This can’t be happening again. Clearly Mexico and I aren’t meant to be. Second time in the country and second time kidnapped.

One minute I was with Gaston, feeling somewhat safe, and the next I’m being yanked away and shoved into the back of this van. The panic in Gaston’s voice as they pulled me from him was absolutely terrifying. I’ve never heard him sound so desperate.

The van is bouncing around so much that I can barely keep my balance. I try to peer out the windows, but it’s too dark to make out anything. All I can hear is the rumble of the engine and the muffled voices of my captors up front. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m struggling to keep my breathing steady.

Who are these people and what do they want?

Gaston’s enemies, maybe? But how many enemies can a billionaire have? Whoever they are, I’m fucked. If this is anything like the first time I was captured, I don’t know how I’ll survive.

Despite my hands being tied, I push myself toward the back of the van and spin around, trying the doors.

Locked.

It was worth a try. Suddenly the van takes a sharp turn, throwing me against the wall and onto the floor. I let out a small cry of pain.

“Shut it, puta!” one of the guards calls back from the front.

Biting my lip, I lean against the side of the van feeling totally useless. Tears prickle my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. The last thing I want is to show these bastards how scared I am.

While the van careens down the dark roads, I leans into the wall to avoid being thrown about. It feels like they’re driving forever, until the van comes to an abrupt halt, the tyres squeaking before the engine turns off.

The slam of the doors of the van opening and shutting prepare me and I coat my nerves in steel, staring at the door. This is it. Suddenly, the doors swing open and men in balaclavas grab me and yank me out the van before I can so much as utter a word.

“What the fuck?” I cry in protest, trying to fight.

“Stay still, bitch,” one man says, forcing a thick cloth hood over my head. “And keep up.”

They drag me along an uneven surface, my feet stumbling with each step. It’s obvious once we’ve entered a building as the air changes and our footsteps echo off the walls.

Roughly, I’m yanked to a stop and then heavy hands fall on my shoulders, pushing me down onto the cold metal of a chair. Someone wrenches my arms behind me and binds them tight with what feels like rope. I fight against it, trying to pull my arms free.

A heavy hand comes down across my cheek, shocking me. “Keep still, puta!” a man growls.

Bastard.

My cheek throbs, telling me it’ll bruise before long. Blindfolded and bound, I’m now completely at their mercy. I squeeze my eyes shut beneath the blindfold and focus on breathing. I strain to pick up any sounds or voices that might give me a clue as to where I am or who’s taken me. But all I can hear is the shuffling of feet and some muted voices speaking rapid Spanish.

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