Stolen: Dante’s Vow

by Knight, Natasha

  I zoom in on his face. The pixels slowly come together. And I see it. The connection.

  And all the pieces fall into place.

  48

  Mara

  I ride in one SUV with Jericho while his daughter, mother and a soldier follow in the one behind ours.

  The hilt of the blade feels cool and smooth against my thigh, the strap holding it in place tight. The dress itself has a slit up the center which should allow me to reach it easily when it’s time.

  I think about what I’ll do when I see him. When I’ll do it. I’ll have one chance and as soon as it presents itself, I will take it. If I don’t succeed and Jericho is wrong about Dante, I’m dead. But I’d rather be dead than a slave to another Petrov again.

  Once we’re in the city, traffic grows denser, and I can see Jericho constantly checking on the other SUV in the side mirror.

  “Why didn’t you ride with them?” I ask.

  He shifts his gaze to me. “Everything has to be done in the right order.”

  About ten minutes later, we slow down in front of a strip club that looks seedy enough to be exactly Felix’s style. My heartbeat picks up and a cold sweat covers me. I lay my hand over the dagger and instantly feel Jericho’s on top of it.

  “Not too fast,” he says, holding it in place when I try to pull away. “You have to find the right moment, or you’ll lose. You’ll get one shot at this. Do you understand?”

  I take a deep breath in and nod.

  “Good.” The SUV carrying his daughter pulls in behind ours but parks at a distance. “Here we go,” he says and opens his door to climb out. I count four men in the third SUV who flank him as he comes to my side and opens my door. Again, he lets me climb out on my own rather than manhandling me. The skirt of the dress is loose enough that Felix won’t see the outline of the dagger, but I wish I weren’t wearing such high heels in case I need to run.

  One of Felix’s men is standing outside smoking a cigarette. Although I don’t recognize him specifically, they have a certain look about them. Like thugs. He looks me over and as soon as he does, instinct has me spinning on my heel. Jericho’s hand closes over my arm as Felix’s soldier tosses what’s left of his cigarette and comes toward us.

  “Not yet,” Jericho tells him.

  The man looks annoyed but accepts this and opens the door.

  As soon as we’re inside, I see him. Even across a bar full of people and women on a stage dancing, music too loud to be heard over, I see him.

  I stop, an old, familiar panic locking my legs.

  Jericho turns to me, takes my arm. “Breathe.”

  I’m scared. Fuck. I’m scared. It’s like all those feelings from before, all that terror, it was just waiting, lying dormant and now that he’s close again, it’s all back and it’s paralyzing me.

  Jericho leans toward me. “Breathe, Mara.”

  “I’m scared,” I confess, my eyes locked on Felix, his grin making me shudder even as sweat beads on my forehead and pools under my arms.

  “Fear is healthy. Look at me.” I don’t. He takes my jaw and turns my face to his. “Look at me, not him.”

  I nod.

  “Don’t think about what he did to you. Only remember your hate for him. Let that be your power. He’ll be dead tonight. You’ll be alive. Just keep your focus and remember your hate.” He subtly touches my thigh where the dagger feels like it’s burning into my skin. “You’re not a victim anymore.”

  I nod.

  “Good girl.” He keeps his hand wrapped around my arm and we cross the room toward Felix Pérez. I somehow manage to do it on my own two feet.

  Felix stands when we’re a few feet away and looks me over, nods.

  “Where is it?” Jericho asks.

  Felix seems barely able to drag his gaze from mine as he reaches into his pocket, takes something out and hands it to Jericho.

  Jericho takes it and one of his men lifts a laptop out of the case he was carrying. He opens it, sets it on a high-top table and Jericho inserts the drive. He pushes a pair of earbuds into his ears, and I watch him as Felix leers at me. He never looked at me like this before, not when I was a child. I guess I should be thankful for that but he’s just a different sort of pervert. I know that.

  “You’re all grown up,” he says to me, but I don’t acknowledge him. It turns my stomach to hear his voice. It’ll take some doing to look at him.

  I can’t see the screen over Jericho’s shoulders but a few moments later, he pulls the earbuds out, nods and pockets the flash drive. Felix turns his attention to him.

  “What you wanted to hear?”

  “Not exactly. Our business is finished. Make sure I never see you again,” he tells Felix and turns to walk away. I swallow hard when his gaze meets mine briefly but a moment later, he’s gone from the club, his men with him and I’m left facing Felix Pérez alone.

  The only reason I don’t run when he steps toward me is because my legs won’t obey my mind’s order. He must see my fear. My panic. Because even as I try to recall Jericho’s words, even as I remind myself of the dagger at my fingertips, I’m terrified of this man.

  He takes a step toward me, and I feel one of his men at my back. His gaze slides lazily over me and for a moment I wonder if I were to scream, would anyone help me? Would anyone stop him? I don’t think so. He’d have chosen a place he feels secure.

  He walks a slow circle around me stopping at my back, I close my eyes at the feel of his hot breath at my neck. At the scent of him I’d forgotten. It’s a nauseating stench because it carries memory and fear.

  “Mara,” he says my name, drawing it out. “All grown up. And very, very pretty. I’m tempted to keep you for myself.”

  I open my eyes, my hands fisting at my side.

  “Or perhaps just have a quick taste,” he finishes. It’s when I feel his tongue slide across the curve of my neck that I steel my spine. I fix my gaze on the dirty mirror in the distance where I can see our reflection. This aging man at my back. This disgusting piece of human filth. And I think of Angelique. Of all the little girls he’s hurt. Of all the ones he’ll keep hurting.

  And it’s that that has me standing taller.

  Has me focusing my hate. My rage.

  I have to keep it together now.

  Because Jericho St. James is right. This man will die tonight. And it will be my hands that are soaked in his blood.

  49

  Dante

  “What is it?” Matthaeus asks. It’s been twenty minutes and it’s almost midnight. Twenty minutes to make sense of what Charlie is saying. Of who is in that box. Of the one thing that makes sense.

  But before I can answer his phone buzzes with a text. “She’s here. In the box,” he says, and we both get to our feet. If what Charlie thinks is true, it changes things. Changes everything. But I push that all aside. First thing’s first. Kill Felix Pérez.

  I walk ahead of Matthaeus, stepping into the hallway where I instantly see more men outside Box Four’s door. Felix’s soldiers. I’d smell them a mile away.

  Four men flank us as I take my weapon in my hand. I will shoot up this place if I have to. I will do whatever I need to do to get her back. To kill that mother fucker.

  One of the soldiers steps toward us. The way he’s grinning makes me think of a hyena. I glance at the bystanders who will witness murder tonight. The hyena draws his weapon.

  I wonder if he knows who I am. If he’s been warned to look out for me.

  I cock the gun. Even silenced it will draw attention and surely when he drops there will be chaos. I prefer to get into the box without commotion, but I’ll do what I need to do.

  Before I have a chance to fire, another man walks quickly toward the first from behind and at first glance, he looks familiar. I don’t know from where, but I’ve seen him before. He gives me a grin, his face hardening as he focuses on his target. A moment later, he’s got his hand on the hyena’s shoulder and I see the man grunt, his body jerking.

  The face
of the one I recognize grows more tense, and I know what he’s doing. I did it myself recently. He’s twisting the blade he just shoved into the soldier’s kidney. I know the moment he draws the knife out because the soldier falls forward. Matthaeus catches him and the man who just stabbed him walks past me, slapping his hand against my chest.

  “Even,” he says and walks away, disappearing before anyone is the wiser. Then, I realize where I know him from. The night I killed Petrov. The night St. James and one of his men walked me out of Red’s. He’s that man. A glance down at the bloody card that drops from where he slapped his hand against my chest confirms it.

  Jericho St. James sent a man. And he thinks it makes us even.

  He’s mistaken.

  But when the second soldier sees the hyena leaning against Matthaeus, the cocky grin on his face morphs into something else. As he looks up at me, fumbling for his weapon, he’s too late to grab it. I push my gun into his stomach and pull the trigger, using him as a shield as I open the door to Box Four. We push our way inside. I see her and for a moment, everything stops because she’s here and she’s alive and I’ll get another chance to save her. To keep my promise to her.

  But that moment costs me because I hear the cocking of six different guns over the soprano’s aria. Faust comes to an end to a standing ovation. But before it settles, the butt of a pistol slams against my temple dropping me to the floor as Mara, eyes wide with terror, opens her mouth to scream.

  50

  Mara

  “Let’s go,” the man who Felix called Gray says. “Pick him up. You,” he points to Matthaeus. “Lose your weapon.”

  Gray is casually giving the orders. His soldiers have Matthaeus disarmed in a second.

  “My man is dead,” Felix says after toeing the one Dante had been using as a shield. “What the fuck?”

  “They’re both dead,” Matthaeus casually adds as he raises his arms in surrender to the one pointing his pistol at him. I can see the faint signs of a smile on his face. He appears so calm. Like he’s not fazed at all.

  “Let’s go. Someone pick Grigori up.” A soldier hoists Dante over his shoulder with a grunt.

  He knows Dante. What will that mean?

  “The rest of your men?” Gray asks Matthaeus.

  “What about them?”

  “Tell them to stand down or I slit this one’s throat.”

  “No!” I yell and Gray turns to me, the expression on his face different than I expect. This situation so reminiscent to the night I met Petrov but so very different.

  “They’ll stand down,” Matthaeus says as we step out of the box. I find the corridor that was only slightly occupied just minutes ago full of men. They’re his men. Gray’s. And a glance at Felix tells me he wasn’t expecting this.

  “I delivered,” Felix says to Gray, and I see his unease. He’s still no match for the people he deals with, and he knows it. “If you’ll deposit the second half of the payment I’ll be on my way.”

  Gray gives him a dark look. “We’ll take care of it downstairs. You’ll come with me. Move.”

  “Sir,” the soldier in charge nods and guides everyone out.

  I remain where I am, unsure what to do, very aware of the dagger at my thigh but still powerless with Dante knocked out. Once Gray and I are the only two remaining he turns to me.

  “Come,” he says, gesturing to the door. He keeps distance from me though.

  I study him, trying to figure him out.

  “You won’t be hurt anymore, Mara.”

  I’m confused by him and his words. By the tone and his meaning.

  He gestures once more to the door. I don’t have a choice, so I move through it and follow to where one of the men is holding the door open to the emergency stairwell.

  It’s loud as we hurry down the concrete stairs, every sound echoing. I hold on to the railing and when we pass the ground floor entrance, we’re led through another door, one I hadn’t seen before. It’s smaller so most of the men have to duck through it. Once we’re through, several flashlights light our way. It’s dark and dank, smelling like water that’s been standing still too long. We keep going and ahead I can see the man carrying Dante, see Matthaeus behind him. Behind me is Gray looking unperturbed in his expensive suit, two more soldiers trail him. Every time I glance at him, I find him watching me.

  The crowded corridor opens up a few minutes later, although it’s still dark in here, light is coming in from somewhere. A loud sound has me jumping as we get to a cavernous open space.

  “Subway train,” Gray says.

  Subway?

  “The tunnels connect,” he clarifies as the man carrying Dante sets him down on an ancient looking bench against the wall. Matthaeus goes to him. He’s slumped over but moving.

  I take a step toward them, but Gray catches my arm and I don’t even stop to think. It’s pure instinct I act on. I don’t think about Jericho’s words advising me to choose my moment. I don’t think about all the soldiers with their guns around me. I don’t care about any of it. I need to get to Dante. That’s all.

  So I slip my hand through the slit of my dress and take hold of the dagger strapped to my thigh. I pull it out of its holster and brandish it between us.

  “Let me go. Now.”

  I expect every weapon in the place to be cocked and turned on me. I maybe even expect to get shot. But that doesn’t happen. In fact, none of the soldiers make a move.

  Gray never takes his eyes from me. “You’re not a prisoner,” he says and does the strangest thing. He lets go of my arm. Surprising, because I expected a fight. I’m sure I’d be easy to disarm. But as soon as I’m free I hurry toward Dante and Matthaeus. I crouch down in front of him keeping hold of the blade as I touch the bloody spot on his temple.

  “Dante?”

  He groans, and a moment later he’s looking into my eyes and I’m so relieved. It’s stupid I know because we are not out of this mess or even close to it. But he’s alive and he’s here and it’s all I can think about.

  I reach my arms around him, and he wraps one of his around me. Standing, he moves in front of me. He’s not quite steady. I can see it. But he’s determined.

  Matthaeus stands too and I try to move around Dante but he’s blocking me with his arm.

  “Well, this is very cozy, but I’d just like to get paid and be on my way,” Felix says with a forced laugh as he steps toward Gray.

  One of Gray’s men cocks his gun and points it at Felix’s temple. Felix comes to a stop, all the color draining from his face.

  I tighten the grip on the dagger, my palm sweaty. Quietly, I slip off my shoes, the ground cold and grimy beneath my bare feet.

  Gray studies me, then Dante. Dante is watching him with a curiosity that has me wondering what he knows that I don’t.

  Felix clears his throat and Gray turns to him. “You want to get paid you little piece of shit?” he asks, stepping toward him.

  I follow Felix’s nervous gaze and I think we realize at the same time that all of his soldiers are gone.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  Gray stops a few steps in front of him and looks him over with contempt.

  “Money back?” he asks.

  Felix looks confused but I see one of Gray’s men punching something into a phone. “Yes, sir,” that man answers.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Felix asks, shifting his gaze to his phone, typing frantically and muttering curses as he does. He then looks up at Gray. “You mother fucker.”

  Gray barely acknowledges him, and it feels like the longer I study him, the more disgusted he grows, the more contemptuous toward Felix.

  “Did he touch you?” he asks, never taking his eyes off Felix.

  I know he’s talking to me, but I can’t answer. I’m too shocked at this strange turn of events.

  “Mara?” he asks, shifting his gaze to me.

  I shake my head.

  “Then I won’t cut off his dick and feed it to him before I kill
him.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Felix asks, taking a step back only to be stopped by one of Gray’s men holding the gun to the back of his head.

  “Don’t shoot him!” I cry out, trying to get out from behind Dante.

  Gray turns to me again and Dante shifts his body a little, his gaze still on Gray. I swear I see the infinitesimal nodding of Gray’s head. At that strange exchange, Dante shifts his grip to hold my arm with one hand and the wrist of the hand that’s gripping the dagger with the other.

  “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to make it that easy,” Gray says as if understanding my meaning. He then looks at Dante. “No one will touch her,” he tells him.

  “You’re not taking her. I don’t care who you are,” Dante says.

  I want to ask who he is because I get the feeling Dante knows.

  “Well, I’m not leaving without her, so you and I may have a problem. But we’ll discuss that after we take care of this piece of shit.” He’s eyeing Felix again, his mouth curled with disgust.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Dante glances at me, then at Gray. Gray’s eyes lock on me, the look not like any man’s I’ve ever seen. Not hard. Not hateful. And not lecherous.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  Dante turns fully, giving his back to Gray, which surprises me. He shifts his grip, so his hands are gentle on my arms. I shudder as he rubs them. I look up at him, at the bloody spot on his temple, at his scarred face. And all I want to do is press myself into his body, feel his arms around me. Feel him hold me.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispers, shifting his grip from my wrist to my hand so we’re both gripping the dagger. “Are you ready?”

  I’m not sure what he means but then, a moment later, I see Felix move behind him. See him reach for a hidden weapon, the glint of metal catching the light of one of the flashlights. But Dante must sense it, so he spins me, one arm wrapping around my middle to hold me tight to his body, still keeping me shielded from Felix. His other hand tight over mine, the one holding the dagger, we lunge together toward Felix. We collide with him as a gun fires and Felix goes crashing to the ground, us on top of him. Dante’s grip shifts to cradle my head as we plunge the dagger into Felix’s chest, with our joined hands.