Chapter 262

“You don’t want to do that,” Bachmeier argued. “She’s worth money to us. Unharmed.”

“She’s not worth the spit of a slug to me,” the larger man said, his tone filled with hatred and thick with accent. “Take them into the other room and tie them up. We’ll deal with them later.”

Bachmeier pulled the two by the arms and forced them down the hall to the medieval room. In the center of the ancient style décor sat two chairs with thick wood bases, sitting back to back against each other. He shoved them down to the seats and snatched the cuffs from the drawer, securing their hands behind their backs.

“Gag them,” Silvano said from the doorway. “I don’t want to hear that sickening American voice again.”

He watched as Sandra turned an angry eye to him while Bachmeier completed his task of cuffing their feet to the posts of the chairs. He took two ball-gags from the credenza and placed the wiffle style plastic objects into their mouths, strapping them behind their heads.

“Come on,” Silvano said