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Thirty-five
Why was her own story different?
Jasmine remembers reading a lot of books and stories and girls who found love in foreigners, and lived happy ever after: but why was her own story different? Why did she have to be tortured by her own lover before being sent out as bait to fish out their son? Why? Why did Marcelo Marchesa not just be like a normal white tourist who just happen to tour her country, fall in love with her and then they'd have a normal relationship
Why now was she on the run from someone she couldn't identify as an ally or an enemy
How did she get caught up in this life
She turned from under the light of the street lamp into an alley dark enough to hide her shadow. She ducked behind a van and inhaled sharply. Whoever was tailing her would really love her hiding in there. Alleys were the best places commit crimes or capture a prey. They would think she was stupid enough to get into the only place where she was sure to get caught instead just ju
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Breaking Locks Thirty-six
"Lo sapevo! Lo sapevo cazzo! And I told you! I told we should never have let that girl out." Serena fussed. She strut about in hasty movements, putting piles together."Basta Serena. She has not betrayed me. Jasmine will not betray me again. I know she won't. We just have to know where they took her. Whoever did was probably trying to keep her away from us. We must find her and my son.""Dios! Marcello! How are you still so blinded by this girl? What the hell did she give you? You know what? I should have killed from the very first day I saw her." Her words barely left when she felt Marcello's hand hold a tight grip around her neck."Don't you ever repeat those words ever again! Or else I will not hesitate to break your neck.""Marcello you're hurting me," Serena put her hands around his big ones, trying to loosen his grip. She was gasping for air. He let her go. She was in a coughing fit. She was strong and a predator; but no matter what, Marcello was te
Breaking Locks Thirty -seven
In her black loose bottom pants, a grey silk top, a fitted black leather jacket and black combat boots, Serena matched her way into the backroom of the gallery, by passing a beautiful painting of the sea and a green viper in it.She reached a room where a man had been restrained: arms tied to the back of a chair. She got sight of his well muscled tone back partially covered by curls of dark hair.Apart from the chair on which he sat, there was a rectangular table that was placed directly in front of him. On it was a small briefcase and nothing more.She dropped her own bag on one side of the table then supported herself in the middle of the table; half sitting, half standing, with her hands folded under her breast giving a little lift and a better view of her cleavage, right in his face.But he didn't care. Neither did she.The minute her eyes coincided with those dark sapphire blue orbs
Breaking Locks Thirty-eight
His first instincts were to leave a punch in the most painful part of Jones body for reasons of putting eyes on his woman but, that would kill the man and end their mission before it even starts. So he reached out to blind his left eye. Dreco ‘s adrenaline pumped furiously just at the mare sight of Dylan Jones. He didn't have to do that so he found a way to cover it up. "You left them at the mercy of a psychopathic Asian connected to the Russian mafia brutto stronzo! Dovrei darti una morte molto dolorosa! Bastardo!" he threw another punch right into his forehead. The pain sent him into a coughing fit, bleeding from the skull and mouth. When it had subsided, he finally said again, "If death was my calling, I never would have gotten out of there alive." he peeked their interest. How did he get out? Was this a trap? "then how did you get out?" "Someone inside his circle doesn't quite agree with all his decisions. They let me out and immediately I knew I had to come to you and I can g
Breaking Locks Thirty-nine
For the briefest second, Jasmine felt like she was actually the messiah. She had played the role to perfection and in turn the children of a crazy Asian man who had the effrontery to put her only child up for sale to a Russian troop that actually wanted to kill them for revenge! My father my father! She remembered how her mother would wail when as kids she and her sisters would misbehave. She imagine looking up to the heavens in her own turn and crying out same. They say desperate times call for desperate measures: this time called for if not grace, a miracle. She needed a miracle. It was definite, there wasn't possibly anything that could save her if not a miracle. Her head pounded as She slowly blinked open her eyes. Darkness! How familiar. She thought to herself. Wether she had been safe or not, darkness had become very familiar to her lately. She wondered what time it was. It could have been bright and gleaming sunlight middle of the day. She couldn't tell. She attempts moving
Breaking Locks Forty
Cold, that was her Jasmine's first feeling. She needed her blankets. She was shivering to her bones and drifting inside mind were memories of her life before all of this. The second thing to be registered in her minds eye was the hard ground beneath her, her bed had never been this hard. Even when after ber father had passed and her mum had had to shoulder the responsibilities of all four kids by herself, she never had to sleep on a bed this hard. And thirdly, was the pounding in her head. Jasmine opened her eyes only to squeeze them shut. Her head felt as if it were about to explode. She wanted to rip her hair out, the pain was excruciating. What had happened her?She slowly opened her eyes, biting her tongue in pain; the hammering feeling in her head would be the death of her. Slowly, she sat up, taking in her surroundings. She had still been in the same room but an exception of the chains and ropes. She laid on the bare floor; that would explain the cold. But why was she here? And
Breaking Locks Forty-one
Pain.That was all she felt as her eyes slowly opened.Pain and a burning in her back. While it seemed her back had been set aflame, her arms felt as if they were about to fall off. Jasmine resisted the urge to scream, knowing completely why she was in pain. How easily she had been caught. She knew it was endgame she'd felt those big calloused hands grab across her neck when she dashed for the brightly lit door, feeling a sense of daylight behind it. An escape; one which failed terribly. Now she was so sure this was her end. She was going to die. No one would save her. After the torture of being whipped over a hundred times, she would finally have to die. how she was still alive was beyond her knowledge.Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room fairly quickly. Her back burned, she didn't know how long she could take the pain, already her head was dizzy. Jasmine looked around what seemed to look like a cell, her eyes landing on a figure which stood to the side, concealed by shadows. Jas
Breaking Locks Forty-Two
In a split moment, Jasmine was able to open her eyes, fully conscious of who she was looking at; his face wasn't as beautiful as when she had first fallen in love with him; it beared splashes of blood, strips of sweat, and a growing paleness. But he was smiling. Her eyes were focused on him thinking this could all be a dream but he was smiling, and that made her heart happy. She didn't care that her whole body felt like she was in a fire pit; or that he wa starting to look as white as casper the friendly ghost; he was smiling at her an that, that made her heart happy. She was in his arms, it was cold but she felt warm in his embrace. Looking into her eyes and watching the little light in her eyes, that gave Marcelo hope; hope that no matter what happened to him, she was alive; and that she could still make it. "Still breaking locks chicca?" he said to her, his voice hoarsed. "they were never locked! I love you Marcelo!" warm tears streamed down her eyes. He laughed. A sweet soft sou
Breaking Locks One.
Three weeks of hiding, even in the most luxurious hotel the city of Buea had to offer did Marcelo Marchesa no good. He was a messenger. His job was to travel around the world. He was a neutral link to all the biggest and baddest cartels in the world; even the enemies. He had only one rule: stay neutral.One rule by which he could have had the world at his feet. But because of some stupid greedy issues, he'd kicked out the golden life and now had to live like a refugee.Normally a refugee like him would go to Singapore or Cancun or some fancy place for safety but because the Russian mafia weren't stupid bullshiters, he had to find the most discreet location he could. It would have never been his idea; it was his sister's: Serena, to seek refuge in the coast, west of Africa; precisely Cameroon.True enough, no one was ever going to find him there. And it could only last till Damian Belikov
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