Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(27)

“You need to get up and come with me,” was all he said before he started making his way out of my room.

I scratched my head, not understanding what was going on. I pushed off my covers, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and stood stretching. Making my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I tied my hair back in a ponytail as I walked out of the bathroom to find Esteban leaning against my door. He didn’t say a word. He just stared out in front of him like he was lost in his own thoughts. His composure read of a man on his way to his execution. A man I’d never met before.

And that scared me more than anything.

“Is everything—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, pushing off the door and walking away.

I followed behind him, trying to keep up with his pace. The sound coming off his black dress shoes echoed through the dark, narrow hallways, mimicking the pounding of my heart and the ringing in my ears. The silence was deafening all around us. I never realized how quiet the penthouse was at night. Our shadows simply heightened the darkness lurking in the corners. It didn’t even seem like it was that late.

One stride for Esteban was three steps for me. I know because I counted. It was the only way to keep my breathing somewhat steady.

One stride.

Three steps…

One stride.

Three steps…

One stride.

Three steps…

I followed him through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The strong, pungent smell of bleach assaulted my senses. My hand immediately rose to cover my nose and mouth. Esteban didn’t bat an eye, too focused on his task that led us to the service elevator. He pressed the button and within seconds it dinged. The doors slid open as if it had been waiting there for us the entire time.

He stepped in while I stayed frozen in place. My heart pounding so profusely that I found it hard to breathe. My lips parted and my chest heaved with each passing moment that escalated between us. Panic began to set in and my mind started running wild. I anxiously tried to gather my thoughts, but they were as stuck as my feet were glued to the floor beneath me.

“Get in,” he ordered.

The unfamiliar harsh and demanding tone only added to my fear. For a quick second I wondered if he could smell it.

I didn’t budge.

I couldn’t.

“Why?” I blurted, finally finding my own voice.

“Get. In,” he repeated and my body began to shake.

I stared into his dark, soulless eyes. I took in his daunting, eerie composure, the way his hands hadn’t left his sides, not hiding the fact that he was strapped. Which he never was inside the penthouse.

I took in every last detail.

From the new cut he had just above his eyebrow, to the slight wrinkle of his black suit jacket. How the first two buttons of his black dress shirt were missing, and how his stare hadn’t wavered from mine.

Not. Once.

Reminding me of my uncle.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I found myself asking, needing confirmation, but knowing it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t tell me the truth.

Esteban would…

But he wasn’t Esteban.

“Get. The. Fuck. In,” he gritted out.

I swallowed hard before placing one foot in front of the other, standing on the opposite side of the elevator. The furthest spot away from him. He didn’t falter, punching one-zero-one-seven into the keypad, like he wanted me to see it and then button B.

My mom’s birthday?

His eyes stayed focused in front of him, and my eyes stayed locked on the side of his face. I jumped when the elevator dinged again, immediately shutting my eyes as hard as I could. Desperately wanting to pretend that this was just a bad dream. A nightmare that I would soon wake up from, finding no one was there to comfort me, but myself. I used to loathe that feeling, and now for the first time I craved it.

I heard the doors open and I involuntarily took three, reassuring breaths.

One…

In and out.

Two…

In and out.

Three…

In and out.

I was struck with a coppery scent and I knew that as soon as I opened my eyes, my life would never be the same again. The smell of fear and bodily fluids were all around me, there was no mistaking it.

For some reason I thought about the last time I was happy. Slowly, cautiously opening my eyes, holding onto that feeling for as long as I could.

“Por fin,” Uncle Alejandro broke the silence, “Finally.”

I swear on everything that was holy, my heart stopped beating. All the feelings, all the emotions were gone in a flash as if they had never been there to begin with.

I was there, but I wasn’t.

“Venga,” Uncle ordered, “Come.”

My eyes widened as I came face-to-face with something straight out of a horror film. My blank stare went to the man. A man I’d never seen before. His head was draped over, his arms tied behind his back, and his legs strapped to the steel chair he was sitting on. A plastic visqueen-lined area beneath him. Silver duct tape sealed his mouth and eyes. Blood dripped down his bruised and bloody face. I looked around at my uncle’s men. They wore their sadistic expressions and bloody knuckles proudly, no hint of remorse, no sign of guilt. They were showcasing their handy work.

The man was beaten within an inch of his life.

I looked from the man who was alive but appeared dead to Esteban who was standing at the far corner of the basement. Once again the man I knew. Except this time, he looked as broken as I felt.