Page 101 of The Capo

My head was still fuzzy from whatever drug had been injected into my system and there was no way of knowing how much time had passed. All I knew is that two men were leading me somewhere and I was petrified that it was to my death. Even worse, the bastards were speaking a language I couldn’t understand, which meant I was completely in the dark about everything. Nausea rolled through me, tears constantly forming.

Every time I stumbled due to my bare feet, they’d both shoved me forward, laughing at me as if my condition was the funniestthing in the world to them. I dared not whimper, or God forbid curse them out. They had all the power in their hands. I tried to be hopeful, but it was next to impossible. I wanted my handsome savior to come rescue me, but I knew in the back of my mind and in my heart that wasn’t going to happen.

Francois had no idea where I was and there was no way of knowing when he’d be released from jail. Or if. The setup had been perfect, and I’d fallen for their fake badges, which had appeared remarkably real. They’d planned everything down to the letter, including hurting the furry baby. If I had to guess, I’d say the two men I’d seen in the elevator had been scouting the building, able to confirm I’d run to safety there. The sadness was overwhelming, the terror increasing to the point all I could concentrate on was the rapid beating of my heart.

Suddenly, the men holding me jerked to a stop.

“You have the package. Any trouble?” The question was in English, my ears perking up.

“Negative.”

The first guy laughed. “He will be pleased.”

An accent. It wasn’t Spanish. Russian? I might not be a language expert, but I was certain of it. “Where do you want her?”

“I have a crate. Just make certain you don’t mar her lovely flesh. He wants her intact.”

All three men laughed, one of them shoving me forward. I was barefoot, prickly heat tickling every inch of my skin. I could feel a sway beneath my feet, and if I made a calculated guess, I’d say I’d been taken to a boat of some kind. Where were they taking me? And who’d ordered the abduction?

They were questions that would only be answered when the time was right. I struggled with the rope holding my arms in place behind my back, fighting to get away from my captors.

“Careful. She’s a little fighter,” the third man said, but his accent was something different. Spanish maybe?

“Raphael does appreciate a fighter. Untie her before shoving her in the crate. She’s not going anywhere.” Laughter penetrated my brain as I registered everything I’d heard. Crate. Did that mean I’d been brought onto a cargo ship? Oh, God. I was being taken out of the country. There was no doubt in my mind.

“No. No!” Somehow, I managed to pull away, racing forward then tripping on something. As I fell face first into a hard surface, the three men laughed from behind me.

“A fighter indeed. Get this done. We need to set sail before the authorities realize what’s happening.”

I was jerked up like a rag doll, my toes barely touching the platform, and dragged at least thirty feet away. Then I was righted, one of the men speaking in what had to be Russian as he untied my bindings.

As soon as he did, I lashed out, managing to punch one of the bastards in the gut. I kicked out, one of them grabbing my ankle and twisting. Then I felt a blast of anguish across my face and neck from a hard blow to my cheek. Stars formed in front of my eyes and I staggered backwards, finally letting off the whimpers I’d tried so hard to suppress.

The moment I was tossed into something, I hit my head, another wash of pain forcing me to curl into a ball.

“The next light you see you’ll be in your new home. Enjoy the nice, long ride.”

Something was tossed in beside me, hitting what sounded like wood. A slamming sound brought a yelp from my lungs before I covered my head with my arms, trying and failing to keep tears from falling. Within seconds, I felt something jerk, whatever I was in suddenly swaying.

I heard what sounded like a drill being used. Oh, my God. They were screwing in the lid.

“No!”

One of them laughed evilly from hearing my sharp cry.

I lifted my head, managing to yank the blindfold from my eyes. When I realized I was inside a shipping container, I was driven into a moment of shock. The wooden crate had slats, tiny areas of light coming from under every one of them. I fought to stand in a crouched position, pitched backward almost immediately from movement.

The minimal light was enough to comprehend the box I’d been shoved into couldn’t be more than four by five, just enough to almost stand up straight.

“No. No. No!” I slammed my hands against the side, trying to peek through the open slats. What I managed to catch a tiny glimpse of terrified me more than anything. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of crates surrounding me. That meant the cargo ship had to be huge.

Sobbing, I pounded my fists against the side, screaming for help even when I knew there wasn’t any coming. Not for me. I refusedto give up, doing everything I could to rip the boards away, praying I could escape before they set sail.

Another hard jerk as the crate was placed into position with a boom. This time, I was tossed to the floor, gasping for air. It was useless. No one was coming to help me. My savior wouldn’t be able to find me.

I stared at my hands and broken fingernails, crossing my legs and allowing myself to weep uncontrollably. The bastards had tossed in a bottle of water for the trip. Oh, God. Where were they taking me?

What seemed like only minutes later, I heard several horn blasts in a row.

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