Yesterday, Dad contacted the private security firm, and he said they’re putting a skilled team together to protect me.
It doesn’t make me feel any better, because I think we should go to the police, but Dad won’t hear about it.
Sitting in Dr. Bentall’s office at the hospital, we wait for him to arrive so he can give me a checkup. He’s already twenty-five minutes late, and Dad’s getting agitated.
“What’s taking him so long?” Dad mutters as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
I watch as he dials Dr. Bentall’s personal number, but a moment later, he shakes his head. “It goes straight to voicemail.”
Patting Dad’s arm, I get up and say, “I’ll check with Julia.” Walking to the reception counter, I smile as I ask, “Do you know where Dr. Bentall is?”
She gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry you’re waiting so long, Skylar. I’ve tried to call but can’t get a hold of him. Do you want to wait a little longer, or should we reschedule? I can squeeze you in tomorrow afternoon.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I look at Dad’s worried expression, then nod. “Let’s reschedule. Call me once you’ve confirmed the appointment with Dr. Bentall.”
“I’ll do that. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s keeping him.”
“It’s okay.” Turning away from the reception counter, I walk back to where Dad’s sitting. “Julia says she’ll reschedule for tomorrow. Let’s go home.”
“What a waste of time,” Dad mutters as he stands up. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close as we leave the office.
We’re quiet as we head down the hallway toward the exit, and I feel tension coming off Dad in waves.
Walking through the double doors of the hospital, Dad steers me in the direction of the Mercedes.
Suddenly there’s a screeching of tires as two white vans speed toward us. Dad turns us around, and grabbing my hand, he starts to run back to the entrance of the hospital.
I’m so freaking shocked I barely get to take in what’s happening as the vans stop behind us. When I’m roughly grabbed from behind, a terrified scream tears from my throat.
Dad’s fingers tighten around mine, but I’m yanked from his hold, and in absolute horror, I watch as two men forcefully restrain Dad.
I’m not strong enough to fight the man as he drags me into one of the vans, and before the doors slide shut, I hear Dad shout, “Skylar!”
“Daddy,” I scream just as I’m thrown to the floor and a knee presses into my lower back. My arms are yanked backward, and my wrists tied together with cable ties.
“Stop!” I cry as I try to wiggle free. “Oh Jesus…Jesus…Jesus.” Frantic panic stuns me into a stupor, and I keep gasping the same word over and over.
The knee lifts from my back, and I’m hauled upright and shoved onto a seat.
With wide eyes, my gaze lands on a man I’ve never seen before. He has light brown hair and eyes that seem black. Tattoos cover his neck, making him look scary as hell.
My breaths explode over my lips, and my heart hammers in my chest as I stare at the man who just kidnapped me in broad daylight.
Before I can even think to ask what’s happening, he levels me with a terrifying look that makes ice pour through my veins. He grabs an old rag from the floor, and leaning over me, he forcefully gags me before tying it behind my head. Distressing sounds spill from me, sounding muffled from the rag biting into my lips.
What do I do?
Oh, God. What do I do?
Shit.
I don’t know what to do!!!
My eyes sting from unshed tears as shock keeps hitting me in tidal waves.
I try to figure out where the van is taking me and hope Dad’s being taken to the same place.
God, please don’t let them hurt Dad.
Are they going to kill us?
Why?
Is this a kidnapping for ransom?
Shit!
My mind reels, and panicked thoughts rush through me, making me dizzy.
The van keeps speeding, taking sharp turns that toss me around on the seat, and when it finally comes to a screeching stop, I fall forward.
The man catches me, and when the side door slides open, I’m forcefully shoved out of the vehicle.
Wildly, my eyes dart around, and it looks like I’m in some kind of warehouse. To my left is a wall of crates, and in front of me, I see an office space where a man’s sitting behind a desk, his eyes on me.
There are groups of men gathering to my right, and some sit at tables covered with guns. There are also open crates filled with all kinds of weapons.
Jesus.
The other van pulls into the warehouse as I’m shoved forward. I keep glancing over my shoulder as the man grips my bicep, forcing me to walk as he drags me toward a set of metal steps.
I watch as two men pull Dad out of the van while he struggles against their hold, trying to break free. Seeing Dad fight, I rear back and manage to break loose. I run toward Dad, but a moment later, I’m grabbed from behind again, and my feet leave the floor as I’m lifted into the air.
My side is tender from all the exertion and manhandling, and I worry about my kidney. I’m not supposed to do anything strenuous for another three weeks, and this is as freaking strenuous as it gets.
I hear Dad’s muffled shouts, his eyes wide on me with shock and worry.
We’re hauled up the steps and shoved into a room. I stumble into a concrete wall, then Dad’s thrown onto the stained floor.
A second later, the door shuts, and I gasp through the shock of the terrifying situation we find ourselves in.
I’m unable to process anything, and nothing makes sense.
My eyes lock on Dad as he struggles to his feet, and my breaths come faster and faster until my chest burns.
“Daddy,” I whimper around the dirty rag that tastes like oil.
I glance at the steel table by the one wall, an empty stained bucket, and all the marks on the concrete floor. I think some might be from blood.
Jesus.
Dad moves his head from side to side, straining against the rag in an attempt to get it off his mouth. “Skylar.”
He rushes to my side and glances frantically around the room before his fear-filled eyes meet mine.
A tear sneaks over my cheek until it disappears into the rag.
Suddenly the door opens, and my eyes grow twice their size as Dr. Bentall is shoved into the room.
Four men follow him inside, and one of them comes to grab my arm. I try to resist as he pulls me to the middle of the room, where I’m shoved down to my knees.
Oh God.
My heart beats so freaking hard I swear my chest shakes with every beat.
Dad is forced to kneel on my right side and Dr. Bentall on my left. I glance between them, seeing the same horror in their eyes that’s filling every inch of my body.
One by one, they remove the rags from our mouths, and my tongue darts out to wet my dry lips.
The moment Dad can talk, he begins to plead, “Don’t do this. Please. Let my daughter go. She’s innocent.”
Slowly, I turn my head to look at Dad because it sounds like he knows why we’re here.
“Shut up,” one of the men snaps as she slaps Dad against the side of the head.
Two of the men leave, and the remaining two pull guns from behind their backs, where they are tucked into the waistband of their pants.
“You’ll remain kneeling and only speak when spoken to,” one of them orders.
My knees begin to ache from digging into the cold concrete, and my body trembles like a leaf in a shit storm.
I hear calculated footsteps approach the room, and a moment later, a man walks in, his demeanor predatory.
Recognition has my eyes widening again, and I stare at the man who’s been watching me. The one who cornered me in the restroom last night.
Today, he’s wearing a pale green suit, and it makes the green ring around his irises pop. The brown almost looks gold, and once again, it reminds me of a tiger.
Immediately I know he’s in charge from the power radiating from him.
My breaths keep bursting over my lips, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
A chair is brought in, and without even looking, the man takes a seat while casually undoing the buttons of his jacket.
Jesus, he’s terrifying.
Slowly his eyes settle on me before moving to Dad and stopping on Dr. Bentall. There’s so much rage in his gaze it makes my fear grow tenfold.
When his eyes flick back to me, I flinch from the startling impact of having them focused on me.
It feels like an eternity passes before he takes a deep breath and nods at one of his men.
One by one, we’re searched. They take Dr. Bentall and Dad’s phones and wallets, and tossing the wallets on the metal table, they hand the phones to the man who’s in charge.
When his lips part, his voice is such a low and deep timbre it makes shivers rush over my skin.
“Do any of you know who I am?”
I instantly shake my head, my hair wildly flipping over my shoulders.
“Renzo Torrisi,” Dad whispers, his tone drenched with fear.
My eyes flit between Dad and the man.
The man holds Dad’s gaze as he demands, “Who did you buy the kidney from?”
What?
When I gasp, Renzo’s eyes flick back to me, and I cringe again.
“Dr. Bentall made all the arrangements,” Dad answers hurriedly.
Renzo keeps staring at me as he asks, “Who was your contact?”
I’m about to wet myself as I whisper, “I don’t know.”
Annoyance flashes over Renzo’s face before he looks at Dr. Bentall, who quickly answers, “A man by the name of Manual Castellanos.”
Renzo pulls his phone out of his breast pocket and makes a call.
A moment later, he murmurs, “I have a name. Find Manual Castellanos…no, I haven’t killed them yet.”
My body goes numb for a moment, and I sway forward before catching myself from falling face-first onto the concrete floor.
Terror keeps washing over me, prickling my skin and making my mind feel hazy.
I’ve experienced intense fear before when I was told I was going to die, but it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now.
