“All I want is Sybil returned home. She’s all I have left in this cruel world. If it’s money I will spare no expense. Please let us know she’s okay and do the right thing. Let my girl come home.”
The moment he has all the shots he wants I pour myself a drink.
Part of me hopes she didn’t suffer too much in the end. The part of me that loved her once upon a time. I swirl my finger in the amber liquid and smile to myself. In due time I will have the house, the cars, the company.
It will all be mine.
Chapter 14
—Sybil
Diego confuses the hell out of me. I still feel weird and groggy from the drugs he shot me up with, but he looks at me like he cares about me. He keeps telling me to trust him. Only how do I trust a man who held me prisoner. Drugged me. Amputated part of my finger. My hand is mutilated. He chained me to his bed like some sort of psycho. He confessed to being hired to kill me, yet he didn’t do it. I need to get out of here, but the question is how. The front door of the cabin closes. I know we are in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring the rain out there. I need clothes and a plan. My idea of tempting him into bed didn’t go so hot.
I hurry and run to the window to see where Diego is. He’s standing near the edge of the porch fiddling with his cell phone. I don’t know how long he will be out there, so I need to be quick. I hurry to the kitchen and start opening drawers searching for keys or a weapon. I’m not even finding the knife he used to slice the fruit up with.
“Breaking News.” I trudge toward the radio sitting on the counter and turn the volume up. “Just in from Channel Seven our paid partner. Sources have confirmed that the FBI has detained a possible suspect in the disappearance of Heiress Sybil White who stands to inherit her father’s fashion empire. We are told that DNA tests have confirmed that the finger left on her stepmother’s doorstep is that of Sybil White. Detectives are hopeful that this is the work of a kidnapper but the man being questioned is a close friend of the victim. Sources from our affiliate station has identified the man as Jesus Perez. More on this case as it develops.” The report cuts off and my stomach rolls. I’m super pissed at Jesus but why would they think he kidnapped me? I have to get to the police and set the record straight.
I shuffle to the bedroom searching for the clothes I had on when Diego brought me here. I spin around the room feeling dizzy and anxious. Sofia must be worried sick. Consuela is probably celebrating my disappearance and praying that I’m dead. She’s such an evil bitch.
I can’t find my belongings and give up the search.
I don’t even have shoes but screw it. I march toward the door on a mission. Diego will have to drag me back by my hair if he thinks I’m staying her a minute longer while Jesus is being questioned in my kidnapping and Consuela is counting the minutes down to collect my inheritance.
I swing the door open and Diego turns to look at me. There’s a left-handed cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. His eyes widen going big and round. “Whatchu’ doin’ out here, Princessa?” Stupid jerk. Why does he have to be so damn irresistible standing out here right now. Barefoot, dark jeans, and a tee that hugs his muscular frame and shows of those tattoos on his arms. I mentally slap myself. I shouldn’t be thinking about how attractive this asshole is.
I ignore his question and start marching down the steps of the porch into the cold rain. The sheets are coming down so hard and fast I can hardly see. I obviously didn’t think this through.
“Sybil, march your ass back into the cabin now,” he barks at me, but I pick up the pace stumbling on the gravel as it digs into the soles of my feet. The wind howls and my hair whips around my face, stinging me like little barbs. I keep going even though I am more than likely doing more damage than good. I have to at least try. Not because I think Jesus is some great guy. It’s the right thing to do. He may be a dickhead, but he didn’t kill me. I can’t just let him go to jail for a crime that hasn’t been committed.
“Sybil!” His voice rips through the rain sounding all too close.
Quick and efficient, Diego scoops me up and throws me headfirst over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as though I am weightless. “Put me down, you tyrant!”
His response is a low chuckle that vibrates from his belly, then his hand comes down hard. Thwack. A palm meets my ass cheek three times. He’s spanking me as though I am a naughty child who ate her dessert before dinner. My cheek stings and I know without a doubt his fingerprints will be there tomorrow.
I see red. I start banging on his back, pummeling him with my fists as he enters through the front door and kicks it shut with his foot. “Cocksucker. Jerk. Asshole. Bastard. Filthy fucker.”
“Filthy fucker. Damn, baby, you mean. Gonna wash that mouth out with soap.” I hear amusement in his voice, and it sets me off further.
“How about bastard butcher.” Thwack. His palm smacks my ass once more. I cry out. “You’re a real piece of shit.”
“That’s cute.” I hear the water turn on in the shower.
“What are you doing?”
He shuffles around then plants me in the shower as he kicks his jeans off and pulls his shirt over his head. When he reaches for mine, I slap at him.
“Don’t you dare fucking touch me. I hate you. You make me sick. You think you can just do whatever you please with me. I’m not your property. I. Hate. You,” I seethe.
Diego rubs his jaw giving me dark look that has my stomach doing flip flops only I’m not afraid of him. My pulse hammers in my ears and my heart leaps to my throat. I’m aroused. The realization shocks me, but I do my best to hide the way I’m feeling. I’ve always been a different sort of girl. Attracted to bad boys and now bad men. I’m ashamed of myself but seeing him standing there naked and seeming so pissed off yet sexy is doing crazy things to my head and especially my body. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass. I feel an ache between my thighs. An ache that says my body remembers how it hurt so good when we fucked. My body remembers how my pussy stretched to accommodate his length and size. I can’t tear my gaze away from him. My fingers that wanted to claw his damn eyes out moments ago, itch to touch him. To trace the ink that marks his chest. To run through his hair.
Diego continues to stare at me.
Face hard. Mouth tight. Eyes dark.
Stepping into the steaming shower with me my captor towers over me. Naked. Brooding. Sexy as sin. His hand comes up and grips my jaw. “Take it back.”
“No.”