I woke to the smell of mildew and concrete.
My head throbbed where someone had hit me. I remembered that now, the sharp crack against my skull when I wouldn't stop fighting in the van. The bag was gone from my head, but my hands were zip tied behind my back, the plastic cutting into my wrists.
I was in a warehouse. Empty, cavernous, with broken windows high up near the ceiling letting in weak gray light. Dawn, maybe. Or dusk. I had no idea how long I'd been out.
"She's awake."
The voice came from my left. I turned my head slowly, fighting the wave of nausea, and saw three men. Not the ones who'd grabbed me, these were different. Cleaner. More professional.
And standing behind them, leaning against a rusted metal support beam with his arms crossed, was Dante Rossi.
He looked exactly l
