Back to square one. Brock was handcuffed to the wall where he had found the girl earlier. Weak-muscled and mind spent, he was content to hang by the wrists. His legs had started clotting, and the pool of blood tapered off on the floor. Between the bloody wounds stymieing into scabs and having a good feeling Sarah had safely evacuated with the victim, he would rest long enough to rejuvenate and bust ass back to the resort. Someone would have to kill him before he gave up on his rope and ice cream shopping list.

The deadbolt lock turned. Well, so much for taking it easy.

A well-dressed man walked in, eyeing him. It was the same man who the security team had evacuated with a flak jacket the night before.

“Glad to see you are awake.” His pointy nose and beady eyes went perfectly with his French accent.

Brock shrugged. The better-than-thou attitude always irked him. “I’ve been in and out. Accommodations could be nicer.”

“Aren’t you cute?”

“My wife thinks so.” Maybe.

The Frenchman pulled a cigarette container and gold-plated lighter from his pocket. With much fanfare, he selected a hand-rolled cigarette and lit it. Sweet tobacco burned into the air. “You stole from me.”

Brock squinted one eye and tilted his head, sarcastically considering what the man had said. “I returned something that wasn’t yours to take.”

The man rolled his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “You have quite the attitude for a bleeding man tied to a hook.”

“I’ve made a lot of bad decisions lately. Starting to think I shouldn’t trust my own judgment.”

The Frenchman took a long drag and let the smoke waft out his mouth while he paced the tiny room. “Interesting.”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“I agree.”

Brock laughed and dropped his gaze. “Fucker.”

Polished shoes stopped pacing by his busted calf. He knew what would come next. Bad news was always so predictable. But the pain still exploded when the Frenchman reared back his toe and punted into his leg. Vicious torment shot up his thigh and down to his toes. Brock grunted, absorbing the impact.

“Tough man,” Frenchie sneered.

“Just another day in the life of me.” Brock gritted his teeth together. “Each one getting better than the last.”

“Explain to me why one man freed my girl?”

“Seemed like the right thing to do. You sickos have messed with enough kids. My day would be a better day if someone took you out. Penance for making the world a worse place.”

“Ah, and I think the same about you.” Smoke encircled the man’s head. “I hate losing my merchandise.”

Brock’s brow pinched, and his molars ground. “She’s a kid, asshole.”

“She was my product. Hand-selected, I’ll have you know. That young woman met very specific criteria I’d been searching for. And for losing her, you will pay.”