Page 11 of His to Bedevil

A pang of longing stabs at my heart as he turns on his heels and disappears into the darkness, leaving me with my heart racing and my panties warming. And completely alone again.

Curling up into a tiny ball again, I close my eyes. Isolation. That’s how my torture will begin. It’s all the same. Isolation, humiliation, starvation, exhaustion. Then, when none of that works… pain. Some go straight for the pain, and I imagine if I were a dude, that’s how it would’ve started. It’s odd that he seems to be taking it easy on me. Is it because I’m a woman? If so, interesting. Very interesting.

The warden has a heart.

Alejandro

“It’s been six days. How thefuckhave you not found anything?” I’m livid. Our hacker and tech guy is one of the best out there to date. He hasn’t been able to uncover anything on our little Fynn Ryan. Nothing before the age of eighteen years old, or anything after that. Only a weak credit trail from then on. No high school, no jobs, nothing.

Marcus leans forward at the table we’re sitting around, and I can tell how exhausted he is, but I don’t give a fuck. He’s supposed to be the best, but if he can’t uncover the history on a single girl, then what the fuck do I have him for? “Whoever she’s working for, they’re good. Like, really fucking good.” Marcus is an American genius. The government was closing in on him when one of our old tech crews, Mathew, caught wind of it. He suggested we grab him for ourselves, and I agreed. Then I replaced Mathew with Marcus. It wasn’t personal. It was just business. I need the best.

I look around and find Diego. “Where the fuck is Berto?”

“He’ll be here—”

Just then, Berto bursts into the room wearing an unusual smirk. “Berto. How did the hundredth sweep go?” I say dryly. We’ve swept Fynn’s apartment several times, coming up empty. I didn’t think it would be such a difficult job, so I didn’t send Berto with them until today.

He approaches the table Marcus and I are sitting at and slaps something down next to Marcus, looking at me. “You’re welcome.” Then he also places a laptop down next to it. Releasing whatever he was holding, he backs away, grinning.

“All right, let’s see what we got here.” Marcus rubs his palms together then picks up the small hard drive and plugs it into his laptop and cracks open the other one.

Rubbing my temples with my fingers, I stand to my feet. “You’ll let me know as soon as you find something.” I stride out of the room without another glance back, Berto and Diego on my heels.

“So, where’d you find it?” I snap.

Berto chuckles, something he never does, and I have to glance back to see it for myself. Cocking an eyebrow, I wait. “Under the bathtub. She had quite a little collection under there.”

Scowling, I turn forward and continue to the surveillance room in the main house. “Did I not mention looking there?” My temper is hanging on by a thread. It’s been six days since I’ve seen or spoken to mypequita, and we’re no further than we were on day one. “I said to rip upeverything. Sinks, light fixtures, the bathtub. The goddamn walls.”

“They turned up everything except for the tub,” he grumbles. “In all honesty, Alejo, it was very well disguised. I didn’t think I would find a single thing under there, but it was the only thing untouched.”

Walking into the surveillance room, I find the two guards sitting there singing.Fucking singing.I’m already on edge, but now I’m fucking seething. I’ve been on edge for days, and when I find the two guards fucking around that are supposed to be closely monitoring the surveillance that displays the entire estate and surroundings, including the room where mypequitais being held, I want to put a bullet through the back of both of their heads. Lucky for them, Berto has a clearer head than me right now and goes up to them and smacks both of them on the back of the head. “No jadas tonto.”Stop fucking around.

Both the guards jump to their feet and face me with pale faces. They know I’m pissed, and I don’t take fucking up lightly. “Sorry,señor. The pretty redhead you are holding captive keeps singing this one song, and it kind of just got stuck in our heads,” one of the young guards sheepishly admits.

Now that I have calmed down some, I can hear her through the monitor. I dismiss the two guards from the room and stand in front of the monitor of her little room. She’s lying there directly in the center of the hard and cold concrete floor where the only light is. Her arms and legs are spread out like a starfish, and she’s singing softly. Turning the volume up some, I don’t recognize the song, only that it’s the same one the guards were singing when I entered the room.

I stand there listening to her sing, and I am entranced. Even though her voice is a little raspy from the lack of water she’s been given and the weak state she is in from no food for almost two days now, her voice is just as melodic as when she speaks. My little songbird.

Still staring at her through the screen, I ask Berto, “So, tell me what else you found other than the laptop and hard drive.”

“Cash, a few fancy pocketknives, two passports with different identities, two handguns, another laptop, a few burner phones, some jewelry, and several sets of keys,” he confirms.

“En español!” she shouts, then begins the song again but this time in Spanish.

The corner of my mouth twitches some. Apparently, she finds this situation she’s in entertaining.Oh, my love. We are only getting started.“What kind of handguns?”

“A Sig Sauer P365 and a Glock 43,” he states.

I raise my eyebrows, impressed. I wonder if she’s ever had to use them. Supposedly she didn’t hesitate to try and stab one of my men, plus how she tried fighting them off. Diego gave me more details on her initial capture later on. For some odd reason, it gave me a sense of pride. It doesn’t make sense, because she is my captive, not my woman. Although it feels like she’s mine in every sense.

“En Francais!” she shouts, and starts the song over in French this time. The lyrics roll off her tongue as if French could be her first language. How many languages does she speak? Maybe if I sit here and listen, I might just find out.

“Alejo?” Berto breaks me from the trance my little songbird has me in.

“Hmm?” I respond without tearing my eyes away from her.

“Marcus has some information for us.”

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