by RC Boldt
Whipping my head around to ensure my door is still closed, I waver between the curiosity that sinks its claws in me and the dread that pollutes my veins. Quickly shoving the rest of my crap in its new home inside the unblemished purse, I tug out my laptop but stall, because this is the one Nico gave me. That means there’s a chance he’ll get notified of something outside of my normal use.
Shit. But what if it’s something I need to know? I can’t tell who’s connected to whom anymore. It could be a person reaching out for Johanna Santilla. Or it could be someone else…
Regardless, I deserve to be aware, especially since my life hangs in the balance. Surely, if Nico finds out, he won’t be able to blame me for wanting to equip myself. Plus, he still needs me to get Santilla to come out of the woodwork.
I power up my laptop and take it into the bathroom, locking myself inside. Perched on the edge of the large Jacuzzi bathtub, I plug in the thumb drive, and a window pops up on my computer, recognizing the device. Then I hover my cursor overtop the single file folder listed in the thumb drive’s contents.
ABNORMAL PSYCH 1139
I scrunch my face at the title. What the hell? I click on the icon to open it and my breathing stutters as the document displays on the screen.
We’ll see you tomorrow after your final class. Sit out front of Miami Smoothie Company at patio table #2. Sit in the chair facing east.
Staring at the message on the screen, my mouth bone-dry, I rip the thumb drive free and slam the laptop closed. I close my eyes and lower my forehead to rest on its cool metal surface.
This is turning out to be far more complicated than I could’ve ever anticipated. If I could go back to the day Nico showed up at my house—
My stupid stomach clenches at the possibility of never meeting him, and I bite back a whimper at my traitorous thoughts. What is wrong with me? I’m forming an attachment to a criminal, for Christ’s sake.
With legs that feel like they’re filled with lead, I straighten, laptop clutched against my chest and thumb drive in my clenched fist. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror is a mistake because the person staring back isn’t the woman I’ve come to know. It isn’t the one who kept a level head through devastating circumstances known to leave others in shambles.
It’s one I don’t recognize.
It’s the face of a woman who’s changing the rules of the game to suit her best.
I only wish I knew if changing these rules will lead to me living…or dying.
24
Olivia
Since I discovered the thumb drive’s message an hour ago, my stomach’s been tied in knots. I’ve been staring out the window, overlooking the bay as if it holds the secret answer to everything.
My purse sits off to the side of the mahogany desk with the thumb drive tucked inside. I know I should get rid of it, but I certainly can’t do that here.
When the knock sounds at my bedroom door, I assume it’s Goliath since he’s the main person I’ve been interacting with. Well, aside from Lorenzo, that is. That creep leers at me every chance he gets. I don’t want to think about what he must be doing with the underwear he stole from me. It’s a small mercy that he hasn’t come near me since.
“Come in.” I turn to face the door from where I stand, leaning against my desk, and immediately stop short.
It’s not Goliath. And it sure as hell isn’t Nico.
“Hey, Professor.” Lorenzo smirks at me, nudging the door closed behind him with his shoe. It strikes me at this moment that when Nico calls me Professor, it never leaves me feeling squeamish.
Unlike this man.
“Hey.”
I watch as he steps farther into my room, fear coursing through me as if I’ve been dumped inside a cage with a ferocious and starved tiger.
My best option is to escape to my bathroom where I can lock the door, but before I can move, he suddenly lunges at me.
Knocking my purse off the desk, he pins me against the sleek mahogany. The corner digs painfully into my hip. He brings his face far too close to mine, and his breath is rancid with the odor of soured chewing tobacco.
“Finally got you all to myself.” His pupils are enlarged and the pulse in his neck throbs rapidly from whatever drug he’s on. His arousal digs into my stomach and fear has a scream lodging in my throat. “Ain’t nobody gonna disturb us.” He squeezes my left breast so roughly I hiss in pain, but this only urges him on. Motherfucker. And with how he’s angled his body, it blocks me from escaping to the bathroom.
With Lorenzo here now, it must mean Nico and Goliath are away taking care of “business.” I’m on my own, and knowing this asshole, he probably told the others standing guard throughout the house to ignore my cries.
“Get. Your hands. Off me.” I bite out each word, forcing myself to stay calm amidst the panic that threatens to suffocate me.
His expression morphs in an instant, and I’m granted the view of a monster who takes whatever he wants without any thought to the consequences or what it costs his victims. A psychopathic narcissist, he’s unable to handle being denied anything. This bastard is triggered when he feels threatened in the slightest way. He feels as if he’s owed something, like he should be given a reward he, in no way, deserves.
I know this look far too well. When dealing with this type of individual—with this type of situation—it’s best not to engage and escalate the conflict. I should employ a tactic of empathy and to defuse this by taking responsibility for my role in his deluded mindset.
Even though I know what I should do, memories begin to inundate me, silencing my professional reaction. And although many years have passed, I find myself flooded by what can never be scrubbed free from my brain.
“You think you’re better than me, bitch? Is that it?” His face turns ruddy with anger.
Taking advantage of his outrage, I shove free from his hold and charge for the bedroom door. The fingertips of my outstretched hand are reaching for the doorknob when my hair is yanked with such vicious force that I skitter backward, my scalp on fire.
His arm clamps around my waist, holding my back flush to his front, and I squirm wildly, struggling against his hold. Kicking back at his shins and jamming my elbows into his stomach, I send him stumbling back. Once I break free of his hold, I launch myself forward, but he flings himself at me, and his weight sends us plummeting to the hard floor with him atop me.
I land, breaking my fall with my palms and forearms, but the momentum has my cheek smacking against the tile floor. Frantically, I scan the area beneath the bed. Dammit! What kind of cartel leader doesn’t have weapons stashed about in his house?
The entirety of Lorenzo’s body weight settles against my back and… No! This can’t happen! That particular area of my hip begins to throb incessantly, as though it thinks I need a reminder. Thick fingers tug relentlessly at my shorts.
“Wait! Wait! Let me turn around. Please?” I strive to erase the panic from my tone and force a calm seductiveness to take its place. “I want to watch.” I swallow past the viselike tightening of my throat. “I want to watch you push your cock inside me.”
He freezes, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Yeah. Knew you were a dirty little slut.”
When he eases away, allowing me to shift between where his arms cage me in, I offer up my most demure smile. Bending my legs that he’s wedged himself between, I reach up to brace my palms against his shoulders.
You can do this. You can do this, I chant internally.
Easier said than done, however. One can practice this a million times over in self-defense class yet choke when it comes time to execute it.
Once I feel him relax beneath my touch, I move swiftly, straightening my arms and shoving him away while raising my knees to thrust my feet against his hips with as much force as I can muster. As soon as there’s space between us, I start punching and kicking furiously, landing hits to his groin, chest, and face before frantically squirming out of his reach.
I make it to the door,
nearly ripping off the handle in my desperate haste to open it, and scream for help. One step over the threshold is all I get before Lorenzo nearly rips my arm from its socket with his fierce grip and hauls me around to face him.
“Fuckin’ bitch—”
I surprise him with an uppercut and follow it with a swift punch to his nose. He staggers back, but fucking hell, whatever he’s high on is pumping his system so full of adrenaline that he doesn’t appear to register the pain or much of the impact of these hits. The bastard retaliates with a backhanded slap that sends my head snapping backward and I stumble from the impact. The metallic taste of blood filling my mouth sends more fury coursing through my veins. I refuse to go down without a fight.
I land two more punches, one to his nose that has blood spurting from the hit, and another to his chin. Spinning around, I race farther down the hallway. Fingernails score the skin of my lower back when he grabs for the waistband of my shorts.
“Help me!” I scream. “Somebody help me!”
I fight against his hold, but he kicks out my leg. It sends me stumbling, losing my balance, and I fall to my hands and already injured knees.
He kicks me in my ribs, and I gasp at the searing pain. “That’s right, bitch! You belong on your fuckin’ hands and knees.”
“Fuck you,” I force from between clenched teeth and start crawling away.
“That’s my plan.” He tackles me, and my breath expels from my lungs as I’m pancaked between the sleek tile floor and his body. “I like it when you struggle.”
Goddammit, I can’t do this again! Screaming so loud my voice grows hoarse and scratchy, I claw at the floor, shifting and squirming, elbowing him as I desperately try to break free of his stifling weight.
I vaguely register the sound of racing footsteps approaching and other male voices yelling down the hall. “Stop!”
Suddenly, Lorenzo’s weight is lifted off me, and I scramble away, clumsily rising to my feet to sprint away only to slam into the hard wall of a familiar chest.
I stare up into Goliath’s face while I subconsciously clench his shirt in my fists. He wraps a thick, muscled arm around me while his other hand cups the back of my head, gently coercing me to lay my cheek against his chest.
“I got you,” he says, and the underlying promise in those simple words has me burrowing my face in his shirt while tremors overtake my body.
Once the buzzing in my ears subsides with the mental montage of the incident, I notice the sounds. Punch after punch. Words spoken so low and lethally quiet that I’m unable to decipher them. It’s only when Goliath tenses beneath my cheek and says, “Bossman. Gotta stop,” that I raise my head and turn my eyes toward the commotion.
Lorenzo is on the floor, face so bloody that it’s nearly unrecognizable. In his expensive tailored suit pants and button-down shirt, Nico kneels over him, knuckles bruised and split, while two of his men look on with fierce expressions of their own.
Nico spits on Lorenzo, then rises to his feet. He turns to me, and I recoil at his bloodthirsty expression. Goliath tightens his arm around me in response, and Nico’s gaze hardens before he turns to address the men flanking him.
“I wanna know how the fuck this happened. Heads are gonna roll for this.”
“We came as soon as we heard her scream.”
“Not soon enough.” Nico’s eyes swing between the two men before landing on Lorenzo’s slumped form. “Get this piece of shit outta here.”
“Yes, sir,” they answer in unison. The men haul Lorenzo up with little care, ignoring the asshole’s pained groans, and disappear down the hall and out of sight.
Goliath eyes me with concern, his tone gentle. “You gonna be okay?”
“I got this,” Nico offers succinctly.
The men exchange a weighted look, and I get the sense they’re having a silent conversation.
Easing back, Goliath loosens his hold on me, arms dropping to his sides. I force my breathing to be steady—far steadier than I feel right now. “Thank you.”
Turning to address Nico, I press my lips thin. “Thank you, Nico.”
He doesn’t respond but watches me as I gingerly step around them to approach my bedroom door. I hesitate at the threshold, knowing with every fiber of my being that I won’t feel safe in this room, regardless of whether Nico kicks Lorenzo out or not.
My mind is already replaying what just happened while I internally criticize myself. What I should’ve done initially. What I should’ve done differently when he had me on the floor the first time.
There’s no lock on this door, but perhaps I can take my comforter and pillows in the bathroom. Locked inside there, I might feel some semblance of safety and comfort.
“Olivia.” I don’t respond immediately because the sound of my name coming from Nico is so foreign. In fact, I’m not sure if he’s ever called me by my first name before.
I don’t turn because I can’t bear for him to see what I’m certain is written on my face: debilitating fear, anger, and self-loathing that I allowed this to happen.
“You’ll stay in my room tonight.”
When I fail to respond or move from my spot, he mutters an expletive under his breath. “Please, Professor.” His voice sounds raw, holding far more emotion than I’ve ever heard. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Turning to meet his eyes, I lift my chin and offer him the only word I can force out before the impending breakdown bleeds past my defenses. “Okay.”
25
Nico
She’s about to lose it, and damn if I don’t want to try to hold her together. I toss a glance at Rafe, and he nods, knowing what I need him to do. He’ll get rid of Lorenzo and get to the bottom of this shit.
Olivia’s eyes are haunted. As if she’s a skittish, untrusting stray, I hold out my arms, palms upturned. “Ain’t never been in this situation, but if you need—”
She launches herself at me, catching me by surprise. This ballsy, smart-as-hell professor needs me to hold her, and it sends a caveman-like satisfaction racing through me.
Gently, I band an arm around her waist and loop my other beneath her knees, lifting and cradling her to my chest. With quick strides, I reach my bedroom at the end of the long hall. Kicking the door shut behind us, I carry her directly into the en-suite bathroom. Once I ease her down on the vanity counter, I slowly back away.
“Gonna run a warm shower for you, okay?”
She stares sightlessly at the floor but nods, her fingers toying with the hem of her shorts.
I twist the knobs, adjusting the water temperature, and set out fresh towels. An unfamiliar bout of uncertainty riddles me. Tipping my head toward the bedroom, I say, “Be right outside the door, if you need me.”
She nods again, and I force myself to leave the bathroom, tugging the door closed all but a crack. Then I lower myself to the edge of my bed, resting my elbows on my knees.
Motherfucker. Olivia was almost raped. Bile rises in my throat at how she was left unprotected while Rafe and I were out settling some business.
I scrub my hands over my face, the small clock on the wall ticking in the silence. The memory of her screaming, “Goddammit, I can’t do this again!” plays on a harrowing loop in my brain.
A quiet knock sounds at the bedroom door, and my head jerks up. “Yeah?”
“It’s me.”
“Come in.”
Rafe steps in, glances around warily, then shuts the door and leans back against it. “Took care of ’im.”
“Good.”
“You ain’t gonna like the rest, though.”
I frown. “What is it?”
“He figured out how to send a text from your number. Told the guys they weren’t needed and to go on break. Left the place uncovered for fuck knows how long so he could do his thing.”
Clenching my fists, I barely register the protest from my busted knuckles, my fury rising again. “That. Fucker.”
“Got the boys back on track. Said we’d all meet tomorrow.”<
br />
I nod, releasing a heavy breath. “Thanks, man.”
His eyes dart to the bathroom door. Lowering his voice, he asks, “She okay?”
“Don’t know.”
He darts another glance at the door. “You heard what she said—”
“Yeah.”
“That ain’t good. Gotta be real careful with her—”
I jump to my feet. “You think I don’t know that?” I hiss. “I was there, too!”
Rafe holds up his palms. “Just sayin’. You been bulldozin’ her, so maybe—”
“I got it,” I say through a clenched jaw.
He sighs before quietly letting himself out. I stare at the closed door, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.
This is turning into more of a shitshow every goddamn time I blink.
26
Olivia
Water sluices over me, stinging every abrasion. It would be easier to identify the parts of my body that don’t hurt in some way.
The worst pain of all resonates deep: disgust. If those men hadn’t been around to hear me, if Nico and Goliath hadn’t returned when they did…
Goddammit. I failed myself. As much self-defense training as I’ve had, I should’ve been able to fend him off better. The past reared its ugly head, causing fear to paralyze me, and I’d lost my edge.
I should’ve gouged his eyes. I should’ve screamed from the very start. But my throat had been terror-stricken, and my vocal cords became immobile.
Settling on the shower floor, I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Lips mashed firmly together, I pinch my eyes closed, willing my whimpers to be soundless. If Nico’s outside this bathroom door, I can’t bear to let him witness me like this.
I am strong. I am powerful. He will not take away my worth.
I repeat the words etched in my mind from long ago while the water rains down on me and rest my forehead on my knees. A tiny sob breaks free before I can stifle it, and I wince at the raw sound.
