Free Captive Curves by Christa Wick Page A

?”  
    Hearing a murmur of agreement behind me, my hope of getting out alive evaporated. Only the stranger standing in front of me seemed inclined to let me live. Staring into his cold green eyes, I wasn’t sure why -- or if I’d be better off dead.  
    I blinked. What kind of nonsense was that? Of course I wanted to live!  
    “Please,” I whispered. On the verge of crying, my vision blurred. The quiver vibrating along my lips distorted the words as I begged for my life. “Please, I don’t want to die.”  
    “You won’t -- not today.” My savior stepped around the dead body, his hand closing on the wrist of the man holding the knife. “I’m going to teach you pendejos how to train your bitches to do anything you want.”  
    Moving his hand up to the other man’s chest, he pushed him away from me. A smile just as cold as his gaze spread across my rescuer’s face. “Hello, little dove. I’m Dino.”  
    “If this bitch screams--”  
    Dino shook his head, immediately silencing the man standing behind me. “She can hardly breathe right now, let alone scream. Isn’t that right, blanca ?”  
    I nodded. I was scared shitless. More importantly, I knew my throat would be slit the second I opened my mouth. When I did scream, I wanted to make sure there was someone other than these thugs to hear me.  
    “Right now, she’d run straight to the cops if we let her go.” Pulling the red sash from my raincoat, Dino grabbed my wrists and quickly bound them together. “A week from now, she’ll do anything I ask her. If I need a mule or money laundered, blanca will do it for me.”  
    The man with the knife wasn’t ready to back down. He elbowed Dino, trying to push the bigger man aside. “She’s seen my face, you fucking idiot!”  
    Dino’s green eyes slid left, the reflection of the room’s single light giving them a murderous glint. His voice dropped dangerously low as he fisted a handful of the smaller man’s shirt. A moment’s combat ensued, their movements too fast and the room too dark for me to discern who did what. When it was over, Dino had possession of the knife, its blade pressed lightly against the other man’s cheek.  
    “How about I give you a new face, Feo?”  
    A shiver rolled through me. Everything about Dino looked deadly. Tall, with a muscular body, he oozed menace and ultimate control. His face had a masculine, chiseled beauty softened only a fraction by the long dark hair that fell in waves to his shoulders.  
    Any softening of his features was immediately obliterated by one look into his soulless eyes.  
    Glancing my way, he caught me staring at him. His smile froze the blood in my veins. “Like what you see, blanca ?”  
    All I saw was a stone cold killer who seemed to think he could make me a slave and bend me to his will. Gaze narrowing, his cheek twitched and I was sure he had read my mind.  
    “Go get the van.” Dino nodded at the man behind me before his attention refocused on my would-be killer. “You wait in the hall.”  
    “ Pinche chingaso --”  
    A warning growl shut Feo up fast. Bending down, he put the plastic bag on top of the newspaper and loose powder, and then he folded the paper over it. Leaving, he slammed the door behind him.  
    Still holding the knife, Dino scooped up my book bag and shouldered it before looking at me. “Face the door, little dove.”  
    I obeyed him as my brain tried desperately to form a plan. In a few seconds I would be back out in the fourth-floor hall of the apartment building. To my left would be the building’s single elevator, out of service. Somewhere to my right would be the door to the stairwell, the one I’d thought I was opening instead of the door into hell I’d stepped through five minutes ago. Feo would undoubtedly be covering the stairwell door.  
    I didn’t know if there was another stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. Even if there was, it might not let out onto the street. It could empty