Disclaim (Deliver 3)

There were no doorways to block the view. The entire wall was missing. Spanish tiles wrapped around an Olympic-sized infinity pool that merged into the most breathtaking landscape she’d ever seen.

A dense jungle of broad-leafed tropical trees and heavy undergrowth stretched to the horizon, cascading upwards over sloping hillsides that rippled into mountain ranges that must’ve been hundreds of miles away.

She’d never been to the basin of South America, had never even ventured outside of Texas, but she was certain she was staring at the Amazon rainforest.

Dizziness sailed through her, threatening to rob what little strength she’d summoned. Running would be a wasted effort. The compound was likely swarming with armed guards. She wouldn’t even make it out the door. If she did, she wouldn’t survive a night in the jungle.

Didn’t matter. She hadn’t come here to escape on the first day.

Pushing up to a sitting position, lightheaded and nauseated, she turned away from the unfathomable view and the terrified women and focused on the enemy.

A man in a black suit stood a few feet away, his eyes inky and unreadable, with a promise of callousness in his resting scowl. In his mid-thirties maybe, he kept his beard and mustache trimmed as short as the black curls on his skull. He might’ve been attractive if it weren’t for the menacing glare that deepened under the mantle of his thick brows.

“Welcome to Colombia.” He didn’t grin, didn’t change his expression in any way, but his accented voice confirmed he was Nico Restrepo.

Matias stood a couple of feet behind Nico. Her heartbeat quivered with both relief and disappointment. He would either help her efforts or try to stop her.

He wore black fatigues and a white t-shirt, with hands behind his back and his stance wide and confident. He didn’t look at her, but his nostrils flared. He must’ve been aware she was peering at him through her lashes.

And she was wearing his long-sleeved shirt.

Why wasn’t she nude and gagged like the other women? Was he protecting her in some way? If that was the case, why was she on the floor, bound with the others, as if awaiting sentencing?

Whatever was going on, she didn’t want to give them a reason to muzzle her, so she kept her mouth shut as she sat taller and waited for Matias to meet her eyes.

When he did, he rubbed a palm over his thigh, his golden gaze unbending and infuriating. What was he thinking? Was he trying to give her a warning? A silent command? What? The longer she stared at him, the more something didn’t feel right, but goddamn, she could stare at him for hours.

Whiskers shadowed his strong jawline. Muscle roped around his forearms and flexed beneath the faded ink of his tattoos. His broad chest, narrow waist, and powerful thighs drew her focus to the considerable package between his legs. If the kiss they’d shared earlier was any indication, she bet he fucked as hard as he looked.

Heat flooded low in her belly, and her nipples hardened. Why did he have to be so distractingly attractive? She pressed her lips together.

His face tightened, and he looked away.

Shit. She shifted her attention to the third man who stood beside him, and her breath strangled.

The corners of his pale mouth tipped into a smile that had been sewed together with heavy black thread. It was like something out of a Tim Burton film. His nest of wild black hair, ghostly complexion, and purple bruises beneath his eyes only made his needlework smirk more disturbing.

Were the stitches self-administered or some kind of punishment? Jesus, how did he eat? She shuddered. No wonder he looked deathly anorexic.

“You already met Matias.” Nico lifted his phone and nodded his chin at the Goth guy. “This is Frizz. Don’t let his youth fool you. He has a supernatural talent with sharp objects.”

Her lips tingled as she imagined him attacking with a lightning fast needle. And what did Nico mean by already met Matias? Did he not know they grew up together? If Matias was hiding things from him, maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“I have an impatient buyer in the pipeline.” Nico swiped the screen of his phone, wearing a scowl that bordered on boredom. “He’s bald, fat, and looking for love.” He rolled his lips. “Well, maybe not love. Let’s call it commitment.”

Who the hell was he talking to? Matias stared at the floor. Frizz’s threaded grin was aimed at no one in particular. The three women behind her sniveled and shook in their chains.

Camila returned her attention to Nico, her pulse beating a frantic tattoo.

“I need to sell one of you.” Nico cocked his head, his gaze flat, dead, as it rested on Camila. “I really don’t care who, so you tell me. Which one?”

Her mind spun, trying to make sense of his question. He wanted her to choose a girl to sell. A tremor bowled through her, rocking her body. No fucking way.

Nico snapped his fingers, and Frizz stepped forward.

Dread swelled in her gut as Frizz’s emaciated frame ambled through the room. He twirled a finger through his crazy hair and—with the stitches just loose enough to pucker his lips—he whistled something eerily cheerful.

“You’re not getting it, niñita.” Matias lifted his head and met her eyes. “If Nico tells you to do something and you ignore him, he simply cannot let that slide.”

The brown-nosing hijo de puta! How could he not see this as anything but horrifically fucked up?

She twisted around, her heart lodged in her stomach as she followed Frizz’s movements. What’s he going to do? Oh God, what is he whistling?

When he crouched next to the blonde behind her, his creepy tune cut off. With a sick stomach, she suddenly recognized the melody as the Kill Bill whistle.

Frizz wrenched the blonde off the floor by her hair and hauled her over his knee, face up. In the next breath, he held a curved surgeon’s needle above her frozen nude body. Black string threaded through the needle’s eyehole and ended at a knot that pulled tight against her lower eyelid, which he held pinched between his fingers and pulled away from her eye.

The woman screamed against her gag, her eyes bulging and her lashes batting against the taut thread.

Camila’s stomach t

urned, and saliva flooded her mouth. How the hell had he pierced and threaded her skin that fast?

“Stop!” She swung back toward Nico, hands jerking against the cuffs as she grappled for a way to stall them. “If you…you disfigure her, you can’t sell her.”

Nico lowered into an armchair against the back wall and lit a cigarette, scratching his trim beard.

“Lucky for us…” Matias approached her, his lean, arrogant stride twisting the hatred inside her. “Mr. Bald-fat-and-committed isn’t a picky guy. He only requested tight holes. We can close up the slits he won’t be fucking.”

All three women burst into pleading, wailing sobs. She wanted to join them, to give in to the hopelessness burning up the back of her throat. But she couldn’t. She refused to surrender.

“We’d love to keep all of you.” Matias circled behind her.

She shifted to her knees, following him with her eyes.

“But we can’t run a business without profits, can we?” Matias ruffled the hair on the women he passed and returned to stand before Camila. “Times are hard, and to stay competitive, we have to sell the merchandise. It’s basic economics. Supply and demand. I don’t make the rules.”

Every word he said fractured something inside her. The demon in front of her wore a Matias-shaped mask, but beneath it lay the soulless reflection of pure evil.

She searched his eyes for a phantom echo of the boy she once knew and found no remorse. Not a hint of goodness in the fiendish smirk he so easily donned on his too-attractive face. It left her feeling more cold and alone than her darkest nights in Van’s attic.

This wasn’t him. Matias was gone.

Unbidden, a trail of fire crawled up her throat, and her eyes blurred with tears.

“Deciding someone’s fate can be taxing.” He gripped her chin, squeezing painfully. “All those messy emotions get in the way. It sucks. But it’s time to woman up and choose.”

Her skin crawled where he touched her, and she jerked her head away.

Frizz held the blonde over his bent knee, his hand poised to finish the stitch over her eye. Fuck him to hell and back.