70. Isabella
70
ISABELLA
W e pull up to what looks to be an abandoned building, and I can’t help but think about how stupid I was to allow myself to get kidnapped by this man. I have no phone and no way of getting out of here. The only thing that gives me any hope is knowing Nicco will be here. I know he’ll get us both out of this situation.
Mauricio lets me out of the car and gestures with his gun to the brick building lit up under the full moon, with rusty bars on the outside of the old, dusty-looking windows. “Let’s go,” he says.
I reluctantly abide and walk toward the steel door. We enter the large abandoned warehouse that’s dimly lit, and he shoves me toward a table with a tray of different sized knives laid out on it next to some zip ties and duct tape. Two chairs are set up back-to-back in front of the table.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Mauricio snides from behind me. “Finally realizing no one’s going to be able to save you now?” He chuckles.
“Hardly,” I mutter, looking around the building to see if there’s another way out.
“What did you say now, little girl?” he says, irritation flowing through his words as he rushes to step in front of me.
My gaze is brought back to him and the maniacal look on his face. There’s a grim gleam in his eye. “You clearly don’t know Nicco or my brothers very well,” I say.
“Your brothers have no idea I took you, so how the hell do you think they’re going to save you? And Nicco? Don’t you worry your little head off, mia bella , your precious little Nicco will show up, but unfortunately for you, he won’t be able to help you.”
Mauricio steps toward me, making me want to step back, but I don’t. I stand my ground, knowing I can’t show him any weakness.
His lips roll up into a chilling smile, showcasing his stained teeth caused by decades of smoking. I nearly wince at the disgusting sight.
Taking the barrel of his gun, Mauricio grazes it down my cheek. I stop breathing as the cool metal touches my skin.
“You know,” he says, the sinister grin playing out larger on his face, “you are quite beautiful, Isabella.” The way he says my name sends a shudder up my spine, and I want to recoil from his proximity.
He traces a line with the barrel of his gun down my cheek before sliding it down to my neck, shifting a loose wave of hair back behind my shoulder. The movement is intimate, and a wave of nausea hits me so hard and fast I nearly keel over from it.
“Do you know what Giuseppe and I were doing while we were in Miami, mia bella ?”
“ Don’t call me that,” I grind out.
Mauricio’s smile flattens, and he grabs ahold of my hair, yanking my head back.
“I will call you whatever I damn well please. You seem to forget who has the gun pointed at whom here.” He aims it under my chin, putting pressure on it to force my head back even more.
Mauricio studies me as if he’s taking in every detail of my face. The only thing that keeps me from panicking is knowing that if he was going to kill me, he would’ve done it already. I might not know what his plan is, but I know he needs me alive for it. At least for now.
“You know… we were going to kill you,” he says, and my heart drops at the threat on my life. “But maybe I can convince Giuseppe to keep you. Just for a little bit. You see, while we were in Miami, we met with the Velasco Cartel. Ever heard of them?”
I don’t respond and continue to hold Mauricio’s gaze with mine.
He lets out a sinister laugh. “No, of course you haven’t. They’re one of the largest cartels in North and South America. Do you want to know what they specialize in? I’ll give you one guess, mia bella .”
I swallow hard, trying to coat my dry throat, but I still don’t answer. I will not indulge this psycho with his sick, twisted guessing game.
“They specialize in pretty little things like you. Tell me, Isabella .” Goose bumps pebble across my skin, causing the fine hairs to stand on end at the way he says my name. “Did your family stay true to tradition and make sure to keep you pure?” His heated breath splays out on my lips, and I squirm, trying to get as far away from him as I can.
Taking the barrel of the gun away from my chin, he slides it down the center of my sweater to my core and nudges it against me. I cry out, seized by panic.
Mauricio laughs, and the sound is like the devil himself. “Men would pay an infinite amount of money to have you.” He pushes the gun into the zipper of my jeans, the pressure causing pain, and I know I have to do something to get out of this situation before he goes too far.
“Well, joke’s on you,” I grind out, causing him to raise a questioning brow at me. “I’m no virgin, Mauricio, and if you knew anything, you would know that I lost that years ago to the guy who’s going to end up killing you tonight.”
Mauricio hesitates before saying, “Niccolò,” and now it’s my turn to return the smirks he’s been giving me all night with one of my own.
“If you and Giuseppe are so smart, how have you idiots not figured that out yet?” I know in the end, this information is useless, but I’m trying to get under Mauricio’s skin. I’m trying to catch him off guard by confessing everything to him.
“You were the reason he got sent off to Sicily,” he says, finally putting the pieces together.
“Ding, ding, ding; we have a winner. Took you long enough.”
“Listen, you little twat, I’m?—”
Before he’s able to finish that sentence, I lift my knee as hard as I can, making contact with his groin. He lets out a howl, releasing his hold in my hair.
“You stupid bitch!” he yells, shuffling toward me, but I take the heel of my palm and shove it up his nose, a self-defense move Nicco taught me years ago.
I make contact, and the crunching of his cartilage breaking seizes the air. Mauricio yells again while the force of my assault causes him to fall backward into the tray of knives, knocking them all over the floor.
A gunshot goes off, which causes me to scream and scramble to the floor.
“What the hell is going on in here?” The demanding voice of Giuseppe echoes around the empty room.
I look over at Mauricio who’s rolling on the floor, still recovering from my kick to his dick and the punch to his nose. Blood is running down the hand that’s covering his nose. He’s so preoccupied with himself that he’s not paying attention to me or the knives that are scattered only inches away from me.
I scramble, turning myself around so I’m facing the entrance. My gaze shoots to Nicco who looks like he has his arms tied behind his back, with Giuseppe holding a gun to the back of his head. Nicco’s sharp gaze is focused on me, scanning my body as if he’s trying to see if I’m injured.
I shake my head, letting him know I’m okay, and a little tension leaves his body as his shoulders fall slightly.
“Get her up and strapped to the damn chair,” Giuseppe shouts to Mauricio. He’s still whimpering, but he pushes himself up to a stand. I quickly move, frantically feeling around behind me for a small knife.
Finding one, I shove it up my sleeve and don’t miss the sharp pain I feel from the blade scraping against my forearm. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. A sting of tears forms behind my eyes, but I force it away.
Mauricio yanks me up by the arm, thankfully the one without the knife. “Let’s go,” he says, dragging me over to the two wooden chairs set up.
He quickly gets to work strapping my wrists with the zip ties while Giuseppe brings Nicco to the chair behind me. I hear him fall roughly onto it with a small gruff, and I wince knowing his dad is being rough with him.
“You move an inch, Niccolò, and your girlfriend is dead,” Giuseppe says.
Mauricio unravels the duct tape, filling the air with the screeching noise of it, and starts wrapping it around my chest so I’m stuck to the chair, unable to get up.
“Are you okay?” I call out to Nicco from over my shoulder.
“Yeah, baby. Are you?”
“Yes.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Well, isn’t this just sweet,” Giuseppe says sardonically. “Duct tape him.”
Mauricio tightens the last zip tie around my wrists, and I silently thank God he didn’t tighten it too tight, fully knowing I’m going to have to shimmy the knife out of my sleeve.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mauricio says, and I freeze, my stomach hollowing out, not knowing exactly what he’s referring to, but praying he didn’t discover the knife that’s pressed up against my forearm.
He brushes his hand against the sleeve of my sweater, and I hold my breath, knowing with one small move, he’ll be able to feel the hard steel under the fabric. I glance over at him and he pulls his hand back, a crimson stain left on his thumb and index fingers. He studies them before looking at me. “Why are you bleeding, mia bella ?”
“Bleeding?” Nicco growls out from behind me.
“ Don’t even think about getting up, Niccolò. I told you I’ll kill your little bitch if you make a move,” his dad says. “Don’t fucking test me.”
Nicco’s taking shallow breaths, and I know he’s about to lose it at any second. “It’s okay, Nicco. I’m fine. I promise,” I say, trying to calm him while Mauricio starts duct taping him to the chair. We have to get out of here, which means we need Giuseppe to keep us alive for as long as possible. I can’t have Nicco losing control over me. Not when I have a plan.