Take (Deliver 5)

Giving up on that, she padded through the front room and spied a sleeping woman on one of the mattresses. The sight of the feminine form gave her a sense of comfort. Not that she could trust anyone working for Tiago, but if she had any chance of making a friend here, maybe that woman was an option.

At the front door, Arturo breezed past and led her onto a concrete porch. The shade from the overhang offered little relief from the dry heat.

She stepped off the stoop and lifted her face to the cloudless, sun-bleached sky. Without shoes, the rocky ground burned the soles of her feet, but she didn’t care. It’d been a month since she felt direct sunlight on her skin.

There were no sounds, no traffic, no roaring of ocean waves, no signs of civilization in any direction. Unmarked nothingness embraced her with empty arms.

She paced a circuit around the house, examining the barred windows and probing for weak exit points. If she decided to run, the front door would be the only way out. Not that she would make it two feet with the silent, intimidating barricade hovering at her elbow.

Arturo’s presence made her skin crawl, especially after hearing him admit he wanted to fuck her more than anything.

A shudder gripped her as she returned to the porch and sat on the steps.

“Are we in Venezuela?” She squinted at him.

He leaned against the awning support and said nothing. At six-foot-and-too-many-inches tall, his thirties-something gladiator build backed up the combative vibes that emanated from him.

“How long have you worked for Tiago?” she asked.

No response.

“I’m not comfortable with what you said about me inside.” She rubbed her neck. “Please, tell me you weren’t serious.”

He grunted a huff, and his pockmarked cheeks bounced with sick amusement.

“So it’s true.” Her face turned to ice, despite the suffocating heat. “He lets his guards rape his prisoners.”

“He likes to watch.”Kate’s stomach plunged to her feet.

Tiago liked to watch his men rape women. Of course, he did. He was a criminally insane psychopath.

And she’d been sleeping next to his room for the past month.

Her heart sprinted as she honed in on the car parked thirty feet away. What were the odds she could outrun Arturo, hop into the front seat, and find a key in the ignition?

Not a chance in hell.

She slumped. “Where did Boones go?”

One of the cars was missing, and she hadn’t seen the doctor since breakfast.

Arturo stared at the hazy horizon, as if she weren’t speaking.

“What animal best represents your personality?” she asked, trying to startle a reaction from him.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t glance at her.

“I’m thinking a bear.” She tapped her chin. “But could you survive in the wilderness?” She sighed at his muteness. “A teddy bear, then.”

A raping, murderous, gangster teddy bear.

He crossed a booted ankle over the other and rested his fingertips in the front pockets of his baggy jeans.

“What do your clothes say about you?” She pursed her lips, frustrated by his refusal to talk. “Say something. I dare you. No, really. I totally dare you to utter one word.”

He was a statue. A voiceless, expressionless sentinel.

Over the next two hours, she continued to toss out questions, hoping he would bite. She wanted him to slip up and tell her something useful. But the comment about Tiago watching his guards rape prisoners was the only information she managed to coax from him.

The sun beat down on the cracked earth, brutally hot and smothering. Nevertheless, she remained on the shaded porch, preferring the limited freedom of outside to the stale confinement of the stone walls indoors.

Eventually, Boones returned.

As he parked the sedan and climbed out, Arturo straightened, assuming a more attentive stance. She didn’t know how many weapons the massive man concealed beneath his clothes, but she wouldn’t try to steal car keys from Boones and risk a bullet from Arturo.

Her escape would require more stealth than a grab-and-run.

“Help me with these.” Boones handed her several shopping bags and carried the rest into the house and up the stairs.

There were stores nearby? Close enough for Boones to buy all this stuff and return within a few hours? She still didn’t know what country she was in. Maybe there was a receipt with an address in one of the bags?

Arturo relayed Tiago’s message about the hair-covered clothes in the kitchen. Then he hung back in the stairwell as she followed the old doctor through the antechamber and down the hall to Tiago’s room.

Boones heaved the bags onto the mattress and removed the contents. Running shoes, active wear, jeans, t-shirts, underwear… As he separated the clothes into two piles, she realized one of the stacks was meant for her.

She emptied the other bags and helped him sort, unable to locate a receipt or anything that identified her location. “Are we staying here? In Venezuela?”