Page 268 of His To Erase
Frank steps forward like he thinks he’s going to catch me and I take a step back because I’d rather hit the floor on my own terms than let him touch me again.
His smile slips as I try to wrap my arms around myself, but can’t. A new voice cuts in.
“Señor Calissi,” the man says, with a thick accent. His tone is clipped and formal. “The lawyer is an hour out. He’ll need the girl cleaned and dressed for confirmation.”
Confirmation?
My stomach lurches. What the hell does that mean?
Frank reaches for me again, but this time I try to slap his hand away with more strength than I knew I had.
“You don’t get to touch me,” I say. But my pulse is rioting in my throat. “Not here.”
His jaw tightens. But his control is slipping. I need to be careful.
He doesn’t hit me. But he leans in, close enough that I can smell how much cologne he used this morning.
“I only need you long enough to say ‘yes,’” he whispers. “After that… you’re expendable.”
Steven
“FUCK.”
The word rips out of me, ricocheting off the walls like a warning shot. I’m already on my feet, pacing like a caged animal. Movement’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling.
Across the room, Travis types like the devil’s at the door, or in this case me. His fingers blur over the keyboard. He’s a fucking machine running on caffeine and chaos. But it’s still not fast enough.
None of it is.
I drag a hand down my face for the tenth time, but it doesn’t help. My skin itches with the need to do something. To rip something apart.
The silence is a noose, and the waiting is nothing less than torture.
My pulse is in my ears, a war drum that won’t fucking stop. Every breath feels like a countdown to the moment I lose what’s left of my control.
She’s gone.
I don’t know where she is or what he’s doing to her, and that’s the part that guts me. The not knowing. The silence. The thousand ways she could be hurting while I’m standing here doing nothing.
I see her in flashes—on the floor somewhere, covered in blood, still waiting for someone who never should’ve let her go.
My fists crack as I clench them harder. I pace the apartment like it’s a cage, boots hitting the floor with purpose.
He took her.
He touched what’s mine.
He was already dead the second I found out he was here. But now? Now I want him to beg for it.
I snap. “Say something.”
He doesn’t even pause. Then—finally— “Got her.”
Everything in me goes still. “What?”
He shoves the laptop toward me. “Private airstrip. No manifests filed under Frank’s name, but the tail number you gave me pinged. He’s taking her to Puerto Rico.”
I stare at the screen like it’s trying to fuck with me. “Repeat that.”
