Inside the sack are dozens of semi-automatic weapons. What the hell did I stumble upon?
I step away from the duffel and grab my overnight satchel from the couch, pulling it over my shoulder.
I don’t bother re-zipping the bag. I need to get out before anyone notices my intrusion. I wasn’t exactly making myself quiet when I called out for my sister.
The bedroom door is thrown open, and two men with guns point their weapons at me.
“How did you get in here?” the shorter of the two asks. He’s got dark greasy hair and the blackest eyes that I’ve ever seen.
My voice catches in my throat as I try to speak.
“Speak up!” he demands. Stalking nearer to me, he closes the distance between us.
“The hotel must have given me the wrong key,” I say.
He’s blocking my escape out of the room, and with his gun trained on me, there’s nowhere else for me to go.
“We can’t have loose ends,” a bald gentleman says as he steps out of the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.
There’s a younger man with pale skin and copper hair tied to a wooden chair, bound and gagged. He struggles to move, his face bloody, hands bound presumably behind his back.
I walked in on someone being tortured.
The air is sucked right out of my lungs.
I’m going to be sick.
“Aurielo,” the bald man shouts.
That name is familiar. It must be a coincidence. Neither of the men with their guns pointed at me answer the bald man.
Aurielo steps out from the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. There’s blood on his crisp white dress shirt and hands.
“Yes, Don Rinaldi,” Aurielo says.
My mouth is parched, my throat burns. Tears haven’t formed, but I already know what’s coming.
I never even had the chance to say goodbye to my son.
“Kill her,” Don Rinaldi says.
Aurielo’s jaw is firm and tight. He grabs me by the arm, opens the bedroom door, and drags me inside before slamming it shut.
The man tied to a chair is slumped forward. I can’t tell if he’s dead or not.
“Do you make it a habit of torturing and killing people in hotel rooms?” I shoot at Aurielo.
It’s him, the man who I slept with that wild night six years ago. To say that I never thought about him again would be a lie.
One foolish night landed me pregnant nine months later. Up until this moment, I hadn’t ever fully regretted that decision because it brought me Ashton.
He exhales a heavy sigh through his nose. His piercing amber gaze sends a shiver down my spine as his eyes rake over my body.
“Do you make it a habit of breaking and entering?” he retorts.