Page 42 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
“Fucking fix it!” Enrique. His voice roars through the walls.
I should go back to my room, but curiosity drives me to find out what could possibly make him so mad. I creep along the corridor until I’m only a few feet away from his office. My heart thuds hard in my chest, and my flight instinct takes hold. I’m annoyed by my own fear and irritated that I’ve allowed him to affect me. As I approach the door to his office, I press my back to the wall, my gaze sweeping the hallway up and down in case I’m caught.
Someone else is speaking, their voice a low-pitched murmur that I strain to hear. “The drivers are missing, the trucks abandoned, and the shipment is gone.”
A feral growl not unlike a wild animal reverberates from beyond the walls. “Find who did it, and bring them to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
I back away from the door and jog along the hall. I don’t really know what they’re talking about, but I know Enrique’s mad. And I don’t need to stick around for another one of his psychopathic mood swings.
I’m torn from sleep as I fly down the bed with force. My body collides with something hard and unforgiving. All the air leaves my lungs in a rush, and it takes my mind a second to catch up and realize that I’m on the floor, though I’m not sure how. Pain radiates through my knees and hip from the fall.
“Get up.”
I blink and make out the figure looming over me. A hand fists my hair, and I’m hauled to my feet, a yelp slipping past my lips. “I said get the fuck up,” Enrique growls in my face, so close that spittle hits my cheek.
Confusion blankets my mind as he drags me to the door, making me stumble awkwardly. The second the door opens, light from the hallway cuts through the darkness, temporarily blinding me. He tugs me forward, and I trip over his foot, sending searing pain over my scalp. Something in me rises up like a long-dormant beast, and I snap. I drive my elbow into his side and bring my knee to his balls, but he ducks away. He does, however, release me. We stand a few feet apart, the only sound between us my rapid breaths. His rage and mine meet, colliding like a storm until the tension is thick and electric. There’s something feral about him, where he’s usually so controlled. His normal jacket and tie are missing. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. His hair is messy like he’s been dragging his hands through it. I’ve never seen him look anything other than perfectly put together.
“I am not your doll to be dragged around!” I snap, false confidence driven purely by anger.
“You are whatever I say you are.” Stepping forward, he reaches out and trails his knuckles over my cheek, his eyes dropping to my lips. He leans in so close, I think he’s going to kiss me. “And right now, you are the enemy.” His hand suddenly clasps my throat, and he tugs me close until my lips brush his. “So pretty. So unsuspecting.”
“I’m your fiancé,” I say through gritted teeth.
A small laugh escapes him. “That can be changed,” he breathes over my mouth.
The threat lingers between us, and I know something drastic must have happened. He didn’t chase me halfway around the world to simply discard me now.
His fingers wind around the top of my arm, squeezing tightly before he hauls me forward. “Walk.”
“Why? Where are we going?” I fight his hold, but it never softens.
I’m led through the house and into the kitchen. At the back, there’s a door to the pantry. He takes me inside, and I’m so confused. The lights come on, and he presses his hand against the back wall. It swings open, revealing a hidden panel. Overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating a stairway that descends beneath the storage room. Chilled air greets me, making my skin flush with goose bumps. Nervousness flutters in my stomach, and my legs stiffen. I don’t want to go down there, but he gives me no choice, shoving me forward so hard that I teeter on the top stair, nearly falling. I take the first step, my legs trembling beneath my weight. My pulse rises the farther I descend below the house. The walls are rough, old brick, and I figure the basement must be considerably older than the eyesore of a house above. The stone steps are freezing on my bare feet, and my body temperature drops instantly.
Before I’ve reached the bottom, I can hear voices intermingled with a low whimper. Nothing prepares me for the moment I step into the wine cellar. In the center of the stone floor is a chair, and tied to it, is Gabriella. She’s gagged, and a plethora of bruises cover her face. She looks up at me through swollen eyes. Blood trickles over her chin in a fine line, streaming from a split lip. I rush to her but only make it halfway before I’m snatched backward and pulled clean off my feet.
