Page 103 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

I slipped her phone out of her pocket and turned away from her bloody carcass to head back to my car. The animals would tear her apart by the time the smell alerted anyone to the location of her body.

A fitting burial.

After tossing my bag into the backseat, I climbed into the driver’s side and checked Rhia’s recent messages. She’d have something in place in case our rendezvous went south.

I found it a few seconds later.

RHIA: If you don’t hear from me in five minutes, kill her.

Panicked, I checked my watch.

There were only fifteen seconds until the five minutes were up.

Did Peter expect Rhia to call?

Since calling him was out of the question, I texted Peter from Rhia’s phone.

RHIA: Deacon has been subdued. Prepare to leave Belize.

I hoped he bought it long enough for me to get there.

With a flick of my wrist, I started the car and sped toward the city.

35

Angel

Time was irrelevant here in this dark place. My legs fell asleep and, when I tried to move them, it felt like thousands of fire ants were climbing over my skin. At least my wrists had gone numb. The zip ties no longer hurt.

Oh, and I needed to pee.

That about summed up my kidnapping experience.

On a scale of one to ‘dead’, I couldn’t really complain. There were worse alternatives. Such as my brains getting blown out of my head.

Peter hadn’t touched me.

Yet.

So I was counting my blessings.

Rhia had left what felt like hours ago. She wasn’t back yet and Peter was getting skittish. It seemed like something wasn’t going right with the plan and I didn’t know whether I should be glad about that or not.

A skittish mercenary wasn’t the best person to be stuck in a dark room with when my hands were tied.

There was no escape and no rescue either. Peter had made it clear that I wasn’t getting out of this alive whether Deacon agreed to Rhia’s proposal or not.

How ironic.

My dad was away, trying to improve his health and live a long life, while my life expectancy was dwindling every minute.

Lord, I needed to use the bathroom. Even hitmen had mercy on women with full bladders, right?

“Um…” I tried to speak up.

Peter slanted me a deranged sneer.

I clamped my lips shut and just squeezed my thighs together. If he killed me, at least I’d find some relief.

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