TORCH

  CHELLE BLISS

  TORCH COPYRIGHT © 2023

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people.

  Publisher © Chelle Bliss January 24th 2023

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Proofread by Read By Rose

  Cover Design © Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photo © Wander Aguiar Photography

  THE HEATWAVE SERIES

  CONTENTS

  1. Trace

  2. Trace

  3. Trace

  4. Trace

  5. Ana

  6. Trace

  7. Trace

  8. Ana

  9. Trace

  10. Ana

  11. Trace

  12. Ana

  13. Trace

  14. Trace

  15. Ana

  16. Trace

  17. Ana

  18. Ana

  19. Trace

  20. Trace

  21. Ana

  22. Trace

  23. Ana

  24. Trace

  Epilogue

  INFERNO - Read Now

  Be a Gallo Girl…

  Gallo Family Tree

  Signed Paperbacks

  Original Men of Inked Series

  Mystery Box

  Open Road Series

  About the Author

  Don’t Miss Out!

  1

  TRACE

  “Don’t scream,” she whispers in my ear before she touches her warm fingers to the skin on my forearm.

  “Who are you?” I ask as I sit in darkness behind a blindfold.

  She yanks at the rope around my wrist, her breathing as rushed as mine. “It’s not important right now.”

  I turn my head toward the sound of her voice, wishing I could see her face. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

  “If you stay here, you’ll die. I’m trying to save your life. Now, sit still and shut up.”

  I swallow, letting her words settle deep in my gut.

  I kept lying to myself about the outcome of this situation. No one gets kidnapped and thinks things are going to end well. But I never let myself believe I’d end up buried in an unmarked grave like so many others in my shoes.

  Me and my big mouth. I did this. I had to one-up the guy at poker, showing off in front of his date, who was hot. I didn’t care to win the pot of cash; I wanted her.

  Epic fail.

  I left that night with a hurt hand, a few bruised ribs, and without the beautiful girl.

  That led me here. To this moment. Tied, bound, blindfolded, and helpless.

  “Why are you helping me?” I ask her, speaking softly and trying to stay still.

  “I saw them bring you in, and I couldn’t sit back and watch it happen again.”

  “Thank you.” It’s not lost on me that she said again. I’m not the first one in this seat, but hopefully my fate will be different.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You still have to make it out without anyone seeing you.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, feeling the knot in my stomach grow bigger.

  My hands fall away from each other as the rope drops. I groan, my shoulder blades aching from the unnatural position I’ve sat in for what feels like hours.

  “Don’t uncover your eyes yet,” she tells me, going to work on the restraints binding my ankles together. “When I say, take off the blindfold, head for the door, and run. I’ll go out first and make sure the coast is clear. Stay in the shadows, and go down the side of the driveway. Once you’re outside the gate, turn left and head to the Savoy hotel and ask for Samuel at the front desk. I’ll make sure he knows what to do.”

  Turn left.

  Turn left.

  I repeat those words to myself, trying to cement them in my memory. The last thing I need is to mess this up, getting her in trouble and landing me back in this chair in the darkness.

  “Has anyone made it out before?”

  “No,” she says quickly. “But I’ve never helped anyone before either.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re my age. You’re too young to die. And you look nice. Way too nice to die, too.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper and think about the guys who took me and what their faces will look like when they walk back into this room and find me missing. “But aren’t you going to get in trouble when they don’t find me here? What about you?”

  Her warm palm touches my leg as she continues to work on the rope around my right ankle with her other hand. “See? You’re a nice guy.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’ll be fine. My dad isn’t going to hurt me.”

  Her dad is the one who did this to me. I thought my dad was scary as hell sometimes, but I don’t think my dad ever tied anyone up, threatening torture or death—unlike hers.

  “Are you sure?” I ask her.

  “He won’t hurt me. He can never stay mad at me for long, especially since my mother passed away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been fifteen years,” she says, as if that somehow has a bearing on her feelings or my sympathy. “Just promise me you’ll make it out. Promise me you’ll run.”

  “I’m not walking,” I tell her, rubbing the skin around my wrists, trying to alleviate the burn. “Can I take the blindfold off now?”

  “One second,” she says, and I’m starting to panic, wondering if this is all some sick game. “As soon as I get this last piece—” she yanks the rope, freeing my second ankle “—take it off and run. Don’t look. Just go.”

  I do what she says. I pull off the blindfold, dropping it to the floor, and take off toward the open door. The lights outside are dim, but enough that I can see where I’m going. The driveway is about fifty feet and lined with bushes. I glance around as I move forward. The only sounds in the air are my breathing and my feet moving across the grass.

  My heart’s racing, and every step I take makes it pound harder, wondering if someone is behind me, ready to pull me back into the darkness.

  When I make it to the street, I forget… Left or right?

  Fuck.

  I tried to memorize what she said, but my mind wasn’t fully engaged. I look right, then left, and head in that direction, hoping I didn’t fuck it up.

  I tuck my hands into my pockets, walking quickly but not running to avoid unwanted attention. The sidewalks are thick with people. It’s tourist season in Miami. The snowbirds are here in full force, looking to escape the cold weather up north.

  I stick close to a large group of people my age, trying to make it seem as if I belong with them. I don’t dare look behind me, keeping my eyes locked straight ahead and searching for the hotel she told me about.

  The lights on the front make it impossible to miss. I wait until the last minute to peel away from the group and duck into the hotel for cover. I slide to the side of the doorway, straightening my back against the wall to see if anyone’s following me.

  When I think the coast is clear, I make my way to the front desk.

  A man in a suit greets me with a smile. “Checking in?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m looking for Samuel.”

  The man’s smile flattens, and he glances around the lobby before giving his gaze back to me. “Follow me.” He motions toward the bar off to the right.

  I move in the direction he’s pointing, no longer paranoid about being followed, even though I probably shouldn’t let down my guard.

  “Let me show you to your table,” he says, walking at a steady clip in front of me. “The rest of your party will be here in a few minutes.”

  The rest of my party?

  Samuel pushes aside a set of curtains, exposing a secluded booth near the kitchen. “Feel free to order anything you want. Everything has been taken care of.”

  I blink, gawking at him in sheer confusion. “Thank you,” I say slowly, unable to understand exactly what’s happening.

  Roughly five minutes ago, I was pretty damn sure I was close to dying. A little bit longer in that room and I’m sure the men from earlier would have been back to finish what they started. I knew what it was about. I fucked up. I messed with the wrong person at a card game, and I was about to pay the ultimate price. But then she came. She saved me. The mysterious girl with the pretty voice untied me and told me how to get out.

  Maybe this is a trick. All part of a plan. A little mind game before they sneak up behind me and slit my throat. I’ve known some sick people, and maybe I’ve watched too many mafia movies for me to relax.

  I scoot to the side so my back is against the wall and I can see the walkway from all angles.

  A man in a tuxedo appears from behind the curtain with a white towel draped over his arm. He smiles at me without making eye contact. “Good evening, sir. May I get you something to drink while you’re waiting for your party to arrive?”

  “Whiskey neat,” I tell him because throwing back shots at this type of swanky place doesn’t feel right. “Wait. Make it a double.”

  He nods, not saying another word before he goes back the same way he came.<
br />
  I take a moment and look around. The walls are black or a dark color that is indistinguishable in the dim lighting. The floor is carpeted, making it impossible to hear someone walking nearby. The smells are heavenly, though.

  The drink I ordered is in front of me before I even realize the waiter was there and has already left. If he could sneak a drink in front of me, anyone could stick a knife into my throat or neck before I’d even be able to scream.

  “Fuck,” I whisper to myself as I wrap my fingers around the glass, trying to steady my hand before I lift it to my lips. “This is so messed up.”

  I reach for my phone, forgetting for a moment that the men had taken it as soon as they grabbed me. It was probably tossed somewhere in the Everglades. By now, my parents have to know I’m gone. Someone has to have realized I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Right?

  I lift the glass, using my other hand to keep it steady as I put whiskey to my lips. I take a big gulp, wishing I could forget everything that’s happened in the last so many hours. The curtain opens, and I lower the glass, watching as a high-heeled foot comes through first before a leg and a beautiful woman.

  She smiles at me, dressed to the hilt in high-class clothes and even more expensive red-bottomed shoes. I expect for her to walk by me, but she slides into the booth across from me.

  I stare at her, unable to speak, and wonder if she has the wrong table.

  “Good. You made it,” she says in the same soft, sweet voice from the dark room where I was being held captive. “I was worried you’d be too rattled to remember which way to go.”

  I’m not going to admit to her that I did forget but I took a lucky guess and somehow got it right. “Who are you?” I place my glass on the table, staring at her.

  She doesn’t look familiar in any way. She has long auburn hair, blue eyes, and bright-red lips. “Ana.”

  “But who are you?”

  “The woman who’s going to save your life.”

  “How? Why?”

  Her gaze moves toward the waiter as he walks into the area where we’re seated.

  “Good evening, ma’am. The usual?” he asks her, ignoring me.

  She nods. “Please, Guillermo. And another for the gentleman.”

  He lifts his nose, keeping perfect posture, but he still won’t meet my eyes before he walks away.

  “Do you want to live?” she asks me, moving the place setting in front of her off to the side.

  “Of course.”

  She leans forward, clasping her hands together. “Then I have a proposition that’ll increase your ability to stay breathing.”

  She didn’t say her solution is a sure thing. But right now, she’s giving me a fighting chance when I think—no, I know—I’m in over my head.

  “Why?”

  “I have a problem, and you have a problem. We can be the solution for each other.”

  I relax back into the booth, knowing I’m going to hate where this is going. “What’s the solution?”

  The waiter’s back, placing two glasses on the table. My double whiskey neat and her cup of coffee. “Anything else, ma’am?”

  She shakes her head, and he bows like she’s royalty before leaving us alone again.

  “Drink up, Mr. Caldo. You’re going to need it now more than ever.”

  “For what?” I ask because nothing could be worse than what I just went through.

  She leans forward, and with a straight face, she says, “We’re getting married tonight.”

  2

  TRACE

  “I think I heard you wrong.”

  “We’re getting married tonight?”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I whisper, swallowing and almost choking on my own spit. “That’s what I heard.”

  “You heard correctly.” She keeps her face devoid of all emotion. “If you want to live, this is what needs to happen.”

  I collapse back into the booth as my heart speeds up. “How does this keep me alive?”

  She pushes her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her cleavage. “I need a husband.”

  She’s so beautiful, she looks like she stepped off the runway of an upscale fashion show. She’s head-to-toe perfection and way classier than any woman I’ve ever been with.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, but I know it’s not an answer. “And that keeps me breathing how?”

  Nothing about this makes sense. A few minutes ago, I was locked up for a mistake I made not that long ago at a poker game. I don’t know for sure that whatever mess this is tonight stems from that single moment.

  She lifts her coffee to her pouty, full, red lips, making me wish I were the cup. “My father, being the old-fashioned man he is, believes in marital vows. He can’t have you put to death if I’m your wife.”

  I scrub my hand across my forehead, wiping away a few beads of sweat that seem to have taken up permanent residence. “Why do you need a husband?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  My eyes widen like somehow that’s the craziest part of what she’s said. “So, marry the baby’s father, not me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  She sighs. “It was a one-night stand with a tourist. I don’t even remember his name.”

  “I’m sure you can figure another way besides marriage, like hiring someone to track him down.”

  She lets out a sardonic laugh. “You don’t know my father, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never met him.”

  She raises an eyebrow, not believing me. “Then why were you tied up on our property?”

  I look away, remembering the details of that night all too well. “I got in a fight with a man at a poker game. I’m thinking he’s your brother.”

  She reaches into her purse and pulls out my phone before sliding it across the table. “I assume this is yours. I found it in the garage and Sean is an asshole.”

  I can’t disagree. The man was a tool, and I was the only one who decided to speak up. I can understand why, now that I’ve met Sean’s father’s henchmen.

  “My father can be a reasonable man…sometimes.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I say sarcastically. A reasonable man wouldn’t tie someone up, possibly murdering them, for getting into an argument with his kid.

  “He’s traditional. He wanted me to go to a convent and become a nun to bring honor to the family, but of course I refused, and thankfully, my aunts were on my side.”

  The wind is sucked out of me. A convent? Do people still send their children there? I guess so. Ana says it’s true, even though I don’t know anyone else who’s made that choice or had it made for them.

  “I fucked up. I rebelled. I slept with a guy I didn’t like, hoping it would be enough of a sin that I wouldn’t have to go. But,” she says, glancing down at her stomach, “I ended up with more than I bargained for.”

  “That’s some shit luck.”

  “My father will lose his mind if I have a baby out of wedlock. It will bring shame on the family. So, I need a husband, at least for a while, and it’ll save your life in the process.”

  I stare at her, pondering the insanity of the entire thing. A possible nun, or at least a future one, is asking me to fake-marry her so that her father doesn’t lose his mind, and the man wants to off me, probably throwing my lifeless body somewhere in the Everglades.

  “Do you hear yourself? You’ve really got to be shitting me.”

  She straightens her back, and she licks away the remnants of her drink. “I’m dead serious, Mr. Caldo.”

  “Why me?”

  “I heard what the men were saying about you. You’re not a bad man. You’re just a kid like me who got the shit end of the stick. You were in the right place at the right time, and I took my shot.”