Chapter 24 Lucia
Lucia
The sudden ringing of the phone in this eerie silence makes me jump. I’m no longer pretending to be passed out. That stopped a good half an hour ago.
“Where the fuck are you?” the angry voice barks down the line the moment the call connects to the car’s speakers.
“We took the back roads like you said, Boss … and we had to make a small pit stop,” the driver replies hesitantly.
That has a smile curving my lips. Well, as much as I can smile with this stupid tape over my mouth.
“What do you mean by pit stop?”
“The bitch needed to pee.”
“You should’ve just let her piss her pants.”
“I didn’t think you’d want her soaked in her own urine when we arrive at the airstrip. I know what your plans are for her. I was the one who delivered the note to that fucker Mancini’s house when we first arrived in this shithole of a country, remember?”
Note?
What note?
More importantly, what are his plans for me?
Rape?
Torture?
Or worse?
Could it get any worse than that?
A chill runs down my spine at the thought.
“My plans for my wife are none of your fucking business.”
“When we stopped so she could relieve herself, we had to remove the cable ties on her wrists, and she used that to her advantage.”
“How?” Giuseppe growls.
“She elbowed Leo in the throat and tried to make a run for it.”
I roll my eyes. It’s a bit hard to run when your ankles are tied together. It was more like a clumsy jump for freedom, but I didn’t make it far. One of the others leapt out of the car and tackled me to the ground before I could even make it to the tree line.
Giuseppe chuckles. “She sounds like a feisty little thing. I’m going to have to watch myself around this one. But that fire won’t last; they all break eventually.”
The guys in the car burst out laughing, and when the one in the passenger seat says, “Leo’s voice is so shot, he sounds like a three-pack-a-day smoker,” it sets them off all over again.
Once the laughter dies down, the driver says, “We’re about ten minutes out, Boss.”
“Well, hurry the fuck up,” Giuseppe snaps. “I’ve already boarded the jet.”
Ten minutes.
My stomach churns at the thought.
I’ve got to try and think of a way out of this, because the moment I board that flight, I’m doomed.