Chapter 54: Chapter 54

C H A P T E R -T W E N T Y - T W O

"Fuck you," Arlene said angrily, and I clenched my eyes even harder. "You've got it, I know you've got it." What have I gone through for you? You're offering a hundred? Fuck...you. Say goodbye to Ginnie as you knew her." The phone flipped shut.

Well, the good news is that my sister raised $100,000 for me, which was a thoughtful gesture on her part. The bad news was that I enjoyed myself as I was, and I didn't want to be any other type of Gia.

"I propose we put her up for auction," Arlene offered, and I opened my eyes to see her standing near Skull, who was staring up at her.

Skull murmured, "Patience."

"Fuck patience," Arlene said back. "Isabelle is undoubtedly going through her pile, trying to keep her a$$ alive." Perhaps she does not have the two hundred. And Finn hasn't gotten a taste of it, so she's spreading it about for Falcone. Maybe he won't go there."

"Patience," Skull said again.

"Dude," Skeet said as he approached the bed, "I just pumped three bullets into Falcone's dude." He's probably tearing Manila apart, since I did it and we took his pussy. We don't have time to wait."

I closed my eyes once again.

Three rounds.

Brett.

I inhaled deeply through my nose as tears hurt my sinuses.

Skull said, "Patience."

"This is nonsense," said the cigarette kidnapper, and I opened my eyes to see him doing it from his position, resting against the wall, one leg cocked, sole of his boot to the wall, smoking another cigarette.

"We should never have messed with fucking Isabelle and fucking Finn in the first place." Those bastards that want Isabelle would pay a lot of money to have a tool to utilize to pull her out of hiding. "There'll be no more waiting."

Skull said it again, this time without moving.

"Screw patience!" Skeet, the most high, the one who purchased Falcone's great dissatisfaction and therefore the most wired, yelled.

Skull slowly rose up, and the room stiffened even more. I realized why. He just straightened up in his chair, but in a terrifying way. I couldn't explain how he did it, but it was a physical threat that you didn't want carried out. He was irritated that he was forced to relocate, and no one in the room knew it.

"Patience," he said quietly.

That is when the door slammed open and the men rappelling through the windows caused both of the windows on either side of the bed to shatter inward. One of them was Jorge; I didn't see the other. Falcone was the man who came in through the door, and he was followed by a second man who I didn't know but who seemed oddly familiar to me.

Arlene screamed, and Skeet and the cigarette guy sprang into action, but it was too late and they were woefully unprepared to face Falcone and his commandos. The other man who entered the room through the other window, who I did not know but who also appeared to be familiar and was not one of Falcone's commandos, quickly placed a gun in their direction as the four of them fell to the ground on their bellies while wearing plastic restraints similar to mine.

If I had allowed myself to experience anything other than relief at that precise moment, I may have thought it odd that Skull didn't put up a fight despite the sudden, terrible ruckus. To me, he appeared to be a fighter who would fight till the end.

Instead, Falcone caught my attention as he easily subdued Skeet (not that I was laughing), coming straight for me. He placed his knee on the bed after taking something out of one of his cargo pockets.

He softly pressured me to take me facedown on the bed while whispering, "On your belly, baby."

My wrists were being worked at by his strong, warm hands before being released.

I groaned under my gag, yanked them around, and points and needles rushed through my arms. Falcone slid down the bed fast, freeing my ankles.

I slid onto my back, and Falcone helped me sit up, then both of our hands went to my gag. Mine were trembling, so I let him take it out and up over my head before tossing it away.

Then his gaze shifted to mine.

"Brett," I said quietly.

"Critical," he said quietly.

I never imagined I would have to worry about what type of woman I was.

You never assume it will be a problem because you never expect that life would put you in a position where you'll need to acquire that expertise. I would subsequently give myself over to wishing I was a stronger woman. One who could nod, maintain composure, and withstand the blow to the spirit that came from realizing that another person had paid with their life to keep her safe.

I, however, was not that sort of lady.

I was the sort of woman who charged her new partner in the face, struck him so hard that his muscular body shook, drove her face into his neck, hugged him tightly, and started crying.