Page 52 of Fast Vengeance

“Get the video. Send it to them and name the place where I get to pick up my daughter. If they try to stall or pull anything, he dies, and my men attack their location to get her back.”

“Of course. I’ll call the men and alert them to what’s going on, get the video started. Once the proof is sent, you and I can go over everything, make sure we’ve covered all the contingencies before we hear back from the Americans. Also…”

“Yes?”

“Victoria Gomez is with her.”

Manny processed that in silence for a moment. “Why would they bring her down here?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got people tracking her movements, just in case we want to use her for something.”

“Good.” Manny dismissed him by turning back to the laptop, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He opened it, a huge lump in his throat, the backs of his eyes burning.

His little girl. At last.

After all this time he was finally going to see her again, and hopefully begin the long process of reconciliation he’d been dreaming of these past months. It wasn’t going to be easy, but the most important things in life never came easy. Manny was used to battling for everything that mattered to him. Now he would fight for Oceane, the only thing pure left in his life. She was his future.

The spreadsheet on screen before him listing the profits of his latest investments blurred before his eyes. He wiped an impatient hand over them, cleared his throat and tried to focus on the numbers.

He’d already begun the transition process and finalized his will. Elena was no longer a beneficiary, having been paid out a settlement in cash when their separation had been finalized. She was too smart to try and drag anything out in court. Smart enough that she would take the money and start over somewhere.

Now he was free.

Tomorrow marked a new dawn. Tomorrow when they finally met face to face again, both he and Oceane could turn the page and begin their lives anew.

Together.

****

Brock jerked awake with a gasp when a bucket of icy water hit him in the face, drenching the front of him. As soon as he came to, he wished he hadn’t.

He was still hanging from the chains attached to the ceiling, his entire upper body in agony. His right eye was swollen shut. Both arms were totally numb except for the constant, biting pain in his wrists and shoulders.

Every single breath was its own separate agony, the places where the thin metal rod had struck leaving welts and bruises, maybe even cracked a couple of ribs. He must have passed out at some point during the beating because he’d been completely under when that water hit him.

Hard shudders ripped through him now that he was awake, his exhausted, beaten body reacting once again to the cold. But he was sluggish now, the prolonged exposure to the freezing air having taken its toll on him.

Brock’s good eye focused on the lone figure in the dim room. The man responsible for torturing him stood in front of Brock with a smirk on his face. “Rise and shine,” he said in a singsong voice.

He caught only a flash of movement, barely had time to flinch as the rod swung out and smashed across his face. His roar echoed throughout the room as the bridge of his nose split open, pain exploding through his face.

He struggled through the fog of agony, fought to clear his head. Blood dripped down his face, running off his lips and chin in a thin rivulet that dripped onto his bare, bruised chest and onto the concrete floor below.

Another blow lit up a stripe of anguish across the left side of his ribs, in the spot where even his tensed muscles couldn’t protect him. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see where the next blow would land, and forced his mind to go empty, not even trying to stay quiet anymore.

Pain wouldn’t kill him. Pain was shitty, but it was a reminder that he was still alive. He had to hold onto that.

With effort he let his body go slack and drifted in between blows, concentrating on thoughts of Tori. He clung to an image of her face. On the night she’d come to meet him at the hotel. Her nervous smile at the beginning. The stunned look on her face when he’d wound the scarf around his wrists, offering his body to her.

He’d never given himself that way to anyone. Only her. In return she’d let down all her walls that night. They both had.

That night had changed him forever, and he would never be the same again. Not that he was likely to live much longer to prove that theory. But if he did survive this he was going to find Tori and consider giving up his career for her.

The bastard hit him across the back now. Brock clung to Tori’s image, drew strength from it. A resolve to hold on through the blows that rained down on his defenseless, suspended body.

He fought for breath, struggled to let the pain wash over him. Tears slipped down his face, mixing with the blood, his soul crying out in agony, his hoarse voice echoing in his ears.

You can take this. Suck it up and take it.

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