Page 83 of Sinful Beauty

No pepper spray.

I slide down the door to the floor.

Did I even get to use the pepper spray?

I have no memory at all of what happened between the car and here. I have no idea where I am. If I’m even in Switzerland.

And there’s no way to escape.

Unless I break that glass and use a wedge as a knife. I can hide, waiting for someone to open the door. Surely he’ll feed me, right?

In the room's corner, veiled in shadow, is another small door. I push forward, back up on my feet, and approach. The lever knob twists.Yes.

It’s a bathroom.Damn. A toilet, a sink, and a tub.

If things get particularly grim, I could either drown myself or jump out the window. Or use the broken glass to kill myself.

Where are these dark thoughts coming from?

But these possibilities exist, which means Tristan doesn’t think I’ll kill myself. Or maybe he does. Maybe he wants to breed desperation, so I’ll handle the issue for him.

Whoa. I place my palms against the cool stone.

Get it together. That’s not Tristan. He’s not a monster.

I don’t know what is going on, but he would talk to me first. If he doesn’t want me to have the baby, he would talk to me. My last text from him said he wanted to talk.

And I agreed. So, why take me? Why would he do that? Unless… my stomach flips and bile rises up my throat with speed. I rush to the toilet, dry heaving mostly. There can’t be much to vomit.

There’s a black towel hanging over the edge of the tub and I grab onto it, wiping my mouth. I push up and turn the sink on, cupping water into my mouth, then splashing my face.

I grip the sink for balance as water droplets drip from my jaw to the floor.

What if someone else took me? What if this has nothing to do with Tristan?

Who? Could it be something to do with my family? The last I heard, my father and brother were in prison, but what if…I don’t know. No, that’s crazy. The Primeiro can’t possibly reach me in Switzerland. My mother sent me to Portugal to escape them. And that was what...nineteen years ago. No, it can’t have anything to do with mi familia.

Slowly, I make it back to the bed. I remove my boots and climb beneath the covers, stacking the pillows so I can sit back and watch the door.

If Tristan didn’t take me, I can’t imagine who did. But there’s nothing I can do right now except wait and see. With more information, I’ll formulate a plan.

Chapter30

Tristan

Night vision goggles. I’m missing those. And I need some detonators. There’s no telling what obstacles I might need to eliminate.

Six hours. They’ve had her for over six hours. My skin itches with a need to get on the road. I could take a helicopter, but arranging it and the requisite transport at the landing location would take as long as the drive.

Ten minutes later, I’ve gathered the last remaining items, and the garage door lifts. I have my disguise kit, courtesy of the CIA and augmented by Interpol, in the back. A satellite mobile for secure communications and tracking. Laptop. Three alternative identities. Bills. Credit in all three identities.

I have what I need to rescue her and let the local authorities handle arrests. If they hurt her, there will be no legal resolution. Anyone who hurt her will die a slow and painful death. Fuck the aftermath.

As the garage door lifts, my Interpol mobile rings. I recognize the digital number displayed and press to answer on the car speakerphone.

“Nigel.”

“Hard court press on this one, aye?”

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