“Where am I, and who are you? Talk fast—I’m not very patient.”
Maya glanced past Scarface at the two other people who’d entered behind him. One woman, one man. The man was equally tall and looked like he worked out. What made his stature really impressive and intimidating was the fact he wore black-leather gear. Clearly a biker, possibly a member of a gang. The woman was as beautiful as they came. Short, black hair, porcelain skin, plump lips, a Barbie doll figure … She looked like a model—perfect body, and a perfect face, despite the fact that a frown curled around her mouth.
“I’m Gabriel. My colleagues here—” Gabriel gestured toward the man and the woman. “—are Yvette and Thomas.”
As he turned his face to the side, Maya saw his unblemished half for a few seconds and realized there was nothing ugly about it. His left side was perfectly sculpted: high cheekbones, strong square chin, a long straight nose, and then those eyes … Framed by long dark lashes, they seemed to be as dark as chocolate, yet flecks of light sparkled in them. When she dropped her gaze lower, she focused on his lips. Full and slightly parted, they looked sensual. Before she could tear her gaze away, he turned his head back to her.
Now that she saw both sides together again, the scarred one and the perfect one, she had to admit that he didn’t look like the monster she’d made up in her mind. Clearly, the large scar had destroyed his handsome face, but it had given him something else: a face with character.
Gabriel suddenly moved and looked as if he wanted to walk toward her. She instantly raised the candlestick above her head.
He lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m not coming any closer. I don’t mean you any harm.”
“How did I get here?” Maya asked, ignoring his comment.
“You remember nothing?”
She searched her memory, but couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. So she took the bull by the horns. “You guys kidnapped me, didn’t you? What is it that you want? Money?” They could have the few hundred bucks that languished in her savings account. If they wanted more, they’d have to wait for next month’s payday. Paying off her student loans had eaten up all her savings.
The woman, Yvette, shook her head and chuckled. “This’ll take a while, Gabriel. Why don’t I leave you to it?”
“Yvette,” Gabriel snapped. “You’re not getting out of this one. Samson assigned you to help, so you’ll help.”
Yvette’s mouth twisted into a thin line. It appeared whoever this Samson was held power over her. Maya tucked the knowledge away—maybe she could use it to her advantage later. The more she found out about her kidnappers the better.
Maya looked back and forth between Gabriel and Yvette, contemplating what he’d meant by his words. What was she supposed to help him with? Holding her down? Tying her up? No, probably not—they’d had that chance while she was unconscious. What the hell were they trying to do to her?
“You were attacked,” Gabriel finally started.
“I figured that one out all by myself. So, what do you want?” Maya shot back. She knew she was outnumbered, so only calm thinking could get her out of this situation.
“We aren’t the ones who attacked you,” Gabriel claimed.
Maya gave a little snort. As if she was that gullible. Maybe she was lucky and these three criminals were too thick to have come up with any decent plan. She could probably outsmart them. For sure the woman, having gotten it all in the looks department, had been shortchanged on brain cells. And the biker: he might know about his ride, but did he have any other skills? She wasn’t too sure how to evaluate Gabriel—he seemed to be in charge, but—
“He’s telling the truth,” Thomas continued in Gabriel’s stead. “Two of our bodyguards found you after you were attacked. They brought you here to be taken care of.”
Maya took a step back. Bodyguards? These guys had bodyguards? That could only mean they were Mafia, probably Russian. To be taken care of—yes, that sounded just like the Mafia. This changed everything. She wasn’t dealing with a few hapless criminals out to make a few bucks. She was dealing with the Mafia, the Cosa Nostra, or whatever they called themselves these days.
Maya’s stomach sank to her knees. If she’d seen something they didn’t want her to see, if she’d been a witness to something, she was as good as dead. Maybe one of her patients had said something to her that implicated these guys in a crime, and they thought it was best to take her out. She read the papers. She knew what guys like these were capable of.