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Authors: Jennifer Lowery
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She managed to walk to the bed before
collapsing.
Carlos
had done this, no doubt. As his trophy she’d endured mindless parties in
useless clothes that made her feel cheap. Her purpose had always been
well-defined: dress up, smile, work the room and do as told. Carlos had made
that very clear her first day there. And every day after that, sometimes in
ways she shuddered to think about.
Attie
took a deep breath in attempt to pull herself together. For all their sakes,
she needed to bury her past and deal with today, because one thing she knew
about Carlos was that he hated disloyalty. Whenever one of his people betrayed him, he took it personally and handed out a harsh penalty. She’d seen
his forms of punishment and prayed he would save it for her and not Brendan.
This was about her, this room confirmed that, but she had no idea what Carlos
had in store for her.
She
looked around the room and felt a cold chill snake up her spine. This resembled
a place she never wanted to be again.
She
was a prisoner of Carlos Santiago.
Chapter 6
“We
lost GPS,” Rogan St. Klare informed his boss from where he sat across the desk.
“Not because of the remote area. It was something else. Either the marker was
found or…hell, I don’t know. It’s like they dropped off the face of the earth.
Just…disappeared.”
Max
frowned. Rogan was a techno geek with a surfer’s shag and his signature
Hawaiian print shirts. Tonight he had on a bright yellow pineapple print. It
boggled Max’s mind how anyone could wear such hideous clothes, but he supposed
living on an island had its perks.
“You
have their last location?”
Rogan
cocked a brow and Max waved the ridiculous question away. He didn’t know why he
asked. Rogan would know what Noah and Attie had for dinner, he was that good.
“The
team is on standby. We have no communication with Noah now?”
“Nope,
none. Which is damn irritating. I worked hard on that new mic. No matter where
they are we should still have communication ability. That mic has a fifty mile
range.”
“Think
it was destroyed?”
Rogan
shook his head. “I’d like to see someone try. No, I’m still picking up the
device, but it isn’t reading a location. Weird.”
Max
had to agree. “So, we insert where they were last located.”
Rogan
stood, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, I’d like to do some investigating.
Shouldn’t have lost them like that. Who’s leading the team in?”
“MacKenzie.”
“Good,
I’m on it. We’ll find them.”
Max
waited until the door had closed to lean back in his chair and let out a long
breath. He was tense; his muscles felt like coiled springs. Opening the top
drawer of his desk, he picked up a small red ball and began squeezing it.
A
light knock sounded on the door just before it opened. His assistant, Sheri,
walked in, her mouth set in a firm line. She looked at him, then at his hand
and pursed her lips even more. “You’re not helping anyone by burning the
midnight oil,” she said. She was a damn fine assistant, if a little too bossy.
Sometimes he wondered who really ran his company. “How many times have I told
you that thing isn’t going to work?”
Too
many to count. And his stress ball did work. He was feeling better already.
Okay, that was a lie.
“My
worry stone is missing,” he said, just to get a rise out of her. He didn’t know
why he did it, but seeing the fire in her eyes made him feel better.
Sheri
waved him off. “Worry stone,” she scoffed, closing the door behind her. “Okay,
boss man, on the floor. We’re going to relieve your stress the right way. Do
you have your mat?”
He
was too old for this, Max thought, as he put the stress ball back in its drawer
and reached beneath his desk for the yoga mat he kept hidden. God help him if
any of his agents found out he did yoga.
Sheri
already had hers laid out on the floor and was putting a CD in the player.
Soothing, ocean sounds came through the speakers as she lowered
collapsing.
Carlos
had done this, no doubt. As his trophy she’d endured mindless parties in
useless clothes that made her feel cheap. Her purpose had always been
well-defined: dress up, smile, work the room and do as told. Carlos had made
that very clear her first day there. And every day after that, sometimes in
ways she shuddered to think about.
Attie
took a deep breath in attempt to pull herself together. For all their sakes,
she needed to bury her past and deal with today, because one thing she knew
about Carlos was that he hated disloyalty. Whenever one of his people betrayed him, he took it personally and handed out a harsh penalty. She’d seen
his forms of punishment and prayed he would save it for her and not Brendan.
This was about her, this room confirmed that, but she had no idea what Carlos
had in store for her.
She
looked around the room and felt a cold chill snake up her spine. This resembled
a place she never wanted to be again.
She
was a prisoner of Carlos Santiago.
Chapter 6
“We
lost GPS,” Rogan St. Klare informed his boss from where he sat across the desk.
“Not because of the remote area. It was something else. Either the marker was
found or…hell, I don’t know. It’s like they dropped off the face of the earth.
Just…disappeared.”
Max
frowned. Rogan was a techno geek with a surfer’s shag and his signature
Hawaiian print shirts. Tonight he had on a bright yellow pineapple print. It
boggled Max’s mind how anyone could wear such hideous clothes, but he supposed
living on an island had its perks.
“You
have their last location?”
Rogan
cocked a brow and Max waved the ridiculous question away. He didn’t know why he
asked. Rogan would know what Noah and Attie had for dinner, he was that good.
“The
team is on standby. We have no communication with Noah now?”
“Nope,
none. Which is damn irritating. I worked hard on that new mic. No matter where
they are we should still have communication ability. That mic has a fifty mile
range.”
“Think
it was destroyed?”
Rogan
shook his head. “I’d like to see someone try. No, I’m still picking up the
device, but it isn’t reading a location. Weird.”
Max
had to agree. “So, we insert where they were last located.”
Rogan
stood, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, I’d like to do some investigating.
Shouldn’t have lost them like that. Who’s leading the team in?”
“MacKenzie.”
“Good,
I’m on it. We’ll find them.”
Max
waited until the door had closed to lean back in his chair and let out a long
breath. He was tense; his muscles felt like coiled springs. Opening the top
drawer of his desk, he picked up a small red ball and began squeezing it.
A
light knock sounded on the door just before it opened. His assistant, Sheri,
walked in, her mouth set in a firm line. She looked at him, then at his hand
and pursed her lips even more. “You’re not helping anyone by burning the
midnight oil,” she said. She was a damn fine assistant, if a little too bossy.
Sometimes he wondered who really ran his company. “How many times have I told
you that thing isn’t going to work?”
Too
many to count. And his stress ball did work. He was feeling better already.
Okay, that was a lie.
“My
worry stone is missing,” he said, just to get a rise out of her. He didn’t know
why he did it, but seeing the fire in her eyes made him feel better.
Sheri
waved him off. “Worry stone,” she scoffed, closing the door behind her. “Okay,
boss man, on the floor. We’re going to relieve your stress the right way. Do
you have your mat?”
He
was too old for this, Max thought, as he put the stress ball back in its drawer
and reached beneath his desk for the yoga mat he kept hidden. God help him if
any of his agents found out he did yoga.
Sheri
already had hers laid out on the floor and was putting a CD in the player.
Soothing, ocean sounds came through the speakers as she lowered
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