“Stai bene?” another voice calls from the driver’s seat. I’m no linguist, but I’m fairly certain that’s an entirely different language than the one my first kidnapper just spoke.
He must realize it a split second after I do, because he quickly corrects himself. “You okay?”
English. That, I can work with. “The b***h just bit me,” Shithead #1 growls.
“Hey!” I snap. “Language, asshole.”
Not the smartest thing to say. Again: hindsight. Mine is sorely lacking.
Pain sparks across my cheek. A loud crack! echoes through the moving van. “Shut the f**k up, curva.”
For Nugget’s sake, I do. Then the man snatches something from my hands.
The paternity test. I didn’t realize I was still holding it. I must’ve done it subconsciously when he grabbed me.
“Like your boss said,” Shithead #1 gloats, “i
