Read Online Marked For Love (Mob Romance) by Cristina Grenier - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cristina Grenier
Tags: mob romance
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him - Grace knew how plain she really was… especially without makeup and dressed in a shirt three times too big for her.
However, the shirt did smell like the man who haunted her waking moments and heated her blood. She supposed there were worse things.
Curling up on her side, Grace closed her eyes, hoping she could sleep. Before they had retired earlier, all three men in the suite had seemed distinctly uneasy. She hoped it wasn’t because they were planning on doing away with her in the immediate future. The prospect was literally one of the most terrifying she could contemplate, and though her heart raced when she brought it to the forefront of her mind, Grace promised herself she wouldn’t cry.
She had already done that – copiously and at length – the previous night. She had taken that opportunity to pour out all the helplessness, frustration, and desolation she felt at her current situation. The purge had been good for her - cleared her head and her mind of some of the terror that had been assaulting it, and now, she vowed to herself that she would try to live one day at a time.
After all, who knew how many she had left?
The next morning, Grace discovered she’d been right about something brewing in the suite. However, it wasn’t her impending execution. The moment she was woken, she was tossed a bag of new clothes and told she had five minutes to get dressed. While she had no problem with that, it was on the tip of her tongue to protest when they bound her again – this time with zip ties, before parading her out into the living room to sit and wait.
They were packing.
Every hair on the young woman’s body stood on edge as she watched them place guns carefully into lined bags, fill Prada suitcases with their personal belonging and bustle around the suite, making ready for departure.
They were leaving.
Which probably meant that she was going with them. But going where, exactly? Not that she thought her father would rally to find her anywhere she went, but outside Boston? Whatever small chance she might have had of her father actually paying for her release would lessen significantly if she were taken away.
It took the three men less than an hour to get ready before her captor came to stand over her, his unique, masculine scent wafting over her. She received no warning before a black cloth bag covered her head and had to bite back a cry of surprise.
“No screaming.” By this time, the warning was very familiar to her. And, not for the first time, she contemplated if disobeying might earn her freedom. More than likely, it would only bring about some sort of punishment.
In any event, she had no idea when would be the most opportune time to cry out. She’d been blinded, and was very shortly stuffed into some kind of cramped container that could very well be soundproofed for all she knew. As she was carried for what seemed like a good ten minutes, Grace tried not to contemplate what might happen if they dropped the case she was shut in into the ocean, or a nearby river. She would suffocate, and no one would know where to find her body.
The thought was enough to keep her quiet until, unexpectedly, she was released from the tight confines to the sound of air rushing overhead and revving engines.
An airport.
Grace’s heart stuttered in her chest as she was firmly led across a stretch of asphalt before being handed up a steep set of stairs. The next thing she knew, she thudded down on a surprisingly plush leather before the bag was whipped from her head, allowing her a breath of fresh air. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, they widened in shock.
She was on a plane – and not only a plane, a private jet.
Her kidnapper, along with his companions, was helping a slender pilot load their luggage onto the plane just outside the doorway, and Grace was treated to a vision of the Boston airport, her panic threatening to choke her.
Where the hell were they taking her?
She rose to try and
However, the shirt did smell like the man who haunted her waking moments and heated her blood. She supposed there were worse things.
Curling up on her side, Grace closed her eyes, hoping she could sleep. Before they had retired earlier, all three men in the suite had seemed distinctly uneasy. She hoped it wasn’t because they were planning on doing away with her in the immediate future. The prospect was literally one of the most terrifying she could contemplate, and though her heart raced when she brought it to the forefront of her mind, Grace promised herself she wouldn’t cry.
She had already done that – copiously and at length – the previous night. She had taken that opportunity to pour out all the helplessness, frustration, and desolation she felt at her current situation. The purge had been good for her - cleared her head and her mind of some of the terror that had been assaulting it, and now, she vowed to herself that she would try to live one day at a time.
After all, who knew how many she had left?
The next morning, Grace discovered she’d been right about something brewing in the suite. However, it wasn’t her impending execution. The moment she was woken, she was tossed a bag of new clothes and told she had five minutes to get dressed. While she had no problem with that, it was on the tip of her tongue to protest when they bound her again – this time with zip ties, before parading her out into the living room to sit and wait.
They were packing.
Every hair on the young woman’s body stood on edge as she watched them place guns carefully into lined bags, fill Prada suitcases with their personal belonging and bustle around the suite, making ready for departure.
They were leaving.
Which probably meant that she was going with them. But going where, exactly? Not that she thought her father would rally to find her anywhere she went, but outside Boston? Whatever small chance she might have had of her father actually paying for her release would lessen significantly if she were taken away.
It took the three men less than an hour to get ready before her captor came to stand over her, his unique, masculine scent wafting over her. She received no warning before a black cloth bag covered her head and had to bite back a cry of surprise.
“No screaming.” By this time, the warning was very familiar to her. And, not for the first time, she contemplated if disobeying might earn her freedom. More than likely, it would only bring about some sort of punishment.
In any event, she had no idea when would be the most opportune time to cry out. She’d been blinded, and was very shortly stuffed into some kind of cramped container that could very well be soundproofed for all she knew. As she was carried for what seemed like a good ten minutes, Grace tried not to contemplate what might happen if they dropped the case she was shut in into the ocean, or a nearby river. She would suffocate, and no one would know where to find her body.
The thought was enough to keep her quiet until, unexpectedly, she was released from the tight confines to the sound of air rushing overhead and revving engines.
An airport.
Grace’s heart stuttered in her chest as she was firmly led across a stretch of asphalt before being handed up a steep set of stairs. The next thing she knew, she thudded down on a surprisingly plush leather before the bag was whipped from her head, allowing her a breath of fresh air. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, they widened in shock.
She was on a plane – and not only a plane, a private jet.
Her kidnapper, along with his companions, was helping a slender pilot load their luggage onto the plane just outside the doorway, and Grace was treated to a vision of the Boston airport, her panic threatening to choke her.
Where the hell were they taking her?
She rose to try and
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