Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
The question was just how. And when.
After Arturo went up to bed, of course.
I had a key to the cuffs on my wrists, but the shackle on my ankle had a bigger lock.
I couldn't claim to be a master at picking locks, but I had needed to open my apartment door with a bobby pin more than a few times when I rushed out of the house too quickly, forgetting my keys as I went.
I didn't have a bobby pin, though.
But once I got the cuffs off, I might be able to rig the key up or parts of the cuffs up to get in the keyhole.
Or I could see about trying to work the pin out of the wall.
On that thought, I listened for a moment, making sure there was no one else about to charge in, then turned, inspected the wall.
Someone had reinforced the cinderblock around the hole they'd made, smooth cement grabbing at the sides of the rusty pin.
If I had something to use to knock it around, I might be able to loosen it.
But I didn't exactly have any tools.
The sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs had me turning back, my heart going into overdrive.
I didn't have a lot of time to build my anxiety, though, because the door was pushing open, and someone was walking in.
He was tall and fit, but on the thinner side, with dark hair, dark eyes, tattoos peeking out from the neck of his black t-shirt.
The t-shirt was what was weird.
Not only a t-shirt, but jeans. Tims.
I'd seen a lot of men associated with this family, they always dressed in suits, they always looked like they were on their way to very important meetings.
Was it a good or bad thing that this man looked like he was about to go commit some crime?
He was good looking and on the younger side, closer to Lorenzo's age than Arturo's.
"Who are you?" I asked, hearing a weariness in my voice that betrayed my exhaustion, my fear.
"Brio," he told me, coming to a stop a few feet away. "You and me, we were supposed to meet before this," he told me, squatting down, resting his forearms on his knees.
"You were who was originally supposed to kidnap me," I decided, remembering Lorenzo telling me that the guy he'd replaced had been vicious.
That was who I was looking at.
A man that made a man like Lorenzo feel morally superior.
Great.
That was just great.
"That's me," he agreed, giving me a small smile. "I got rid of that pedo's body too," he added, like this was the most normal, natural conversation to have. About a tortured and murdered man to a woman who was chained to a wall in the basement of a mafia boss's house.
Hell, maybe to him, it was.
"Oh, really?" I asked. "Um, thanks."
"Little boss man did the work. Looks like he enjoyed himself doing it, too. Cut his cock off," he added, nodding, clearly impressed with the brutality of Lorenzo's actions. "But he skinned it first. That's just," he said, bringing his fingers up to his lips to do a chef's kiss, "perfect. Wish I had thought of that one before. Peeled balls before. But the cock, that is a boss move," he told me. "Oh, he cut that ugly ass mark off the bastard's hand too. Real carefully. Got every millimeter of that thing. Shoved it in his mouth. Real masterful work. Wish I could have been there."
"Did you come here to tell me the body is taken care of?" I asked, confused.
"Nah. Actually, might be in trouble if that shit gets around too much. Don't worry about me, they need me too much to stick me down in a basement to rot. Just came to take my shift. Figured I'd introduce myself."
With that, he moved to stand, turning, going to make his way back to the door.
It was then that I saw something sticking out of his back pocket.
Something in a brown wrapper with red, white, and blue writing.
A Snickers bar.
"Hey, Brio," I called, making him turn back.
"Yeah, doll?"
"Could I maybe have that?" I asked, pointing with my cuffed hands. "The candy bar," I added, going ahead and letting my voice get small again. "I'm so hungry," I said, eyes wide.
"Oh shit. Forgot I had that. Got a bad sweet tooth. Yeah, sure, here," he said, tossing it to me, giving me a smile when I managed to grab it out of the air.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Hey, nice shoes," he told me, jerking his chin toward my heels before walking out, closing, and locking the door.
I wasn't actually hungry.
And while I did love a good Snickers bar, had earned one with all the shit I had been through, I didn't want it to eat.
No.
Something had just clicked when I'd seen it.
See.
I could get free.