Tortured

by N. M. Catalano

  He’s seated in the chair across from me with his usual broodiness. “Dominic as in general? Or something specific?”

  “Sometimes you can be as much of a dick as Snake,” the comment shoots out before I can stop it.

  Neither of us say anything.

  Snake’s not here. His absence is heavy and dark. Each one of us blame ourselves for what happened to him. We should have known; we should have seen it coming. Snake is our brother; we know him better than we know ourselves. Yet, we didn’t see all the fucking signs that shouted he’d been planning on making himself a sacrifice. He’d planned on setting himself up as a target to save the rest of us all along.

  We all fucking miss him.

  “Dicks come in all shapes and sizes. Even little ones,” Rock lightens the heaviness with his typical dickness.

  “Yeah, you would know,” I smirk at him.

  Just like that, we’re good. Like the first time Rock and I met. We’d both been assigned to the same platoon in the Army, the four of us were, that’s where all this began. Four lost boys. Rock had been an arrogant little prick, even back then. I was just angry. All the fucking time.

  Some things never change.

  “Could you be a little more specific?” Rock asks.

  I settle back against the black leather sofa. “Sasha’s husband, the great and powerful James Williams in this town, received some kind of award the other day. There was a man there whom James had been speaking with. Not the kind of man you’d find on the town board. More like the kind of man you and I know.” My demons grin at him. I recall the expression on Dominic’s face when his eyes were fixed on me as he spoke to Sasha. As if he knew. He wanted it to look like it was an intimate conversation, the way he was close to her, his face so near, he could run his nose along her hair and inhale the scent of her skin. Who the fuck knows? Maybe it had been intimate, he knows her husband James, and James knows a hell of a lot more than I do about Sasha. But I know her better. I know what makes her purr, what makes her scream, what she wants and what she begs for. But James knows other things, things I’m sure Sasha doesn’t even know. What I’m not certain of is does he have any idea she’s having an affair?

  That man Dominic? He glared at me as if he knew.

  I’d wanted to fucking kill him. Not because he might know.

  Because he acted as if he owned her.

  And I was nothing.

  “I’d heard about the big shindig. Summer said everyone in town’s been talking about it. Like James was a miracle worker.” Rock is still and even. A dead giveaway to the danger inside him. “A man named Dominic is part of this big deal.” He nods his head slowly. “Interesting.”

  “I agree. From what I saw, it was a big deal. Which makes the involvement of a man like Dominic all the more interesting.”

  He quirks an eyebrow at me, amused. “You were there?”

  I grin at him again. “Yes, I was there. But not for the reasons you think.”

  “Then please enlighten me.”

  “She said she was scared. I want to know why,” there’s darkness in my words.

  The conversations Sasha and I had while we were at the Ink & Arms Expo play over in my head. The fear in Sasha’s voice during those phone calls does something to me now just like it had then.

  I continue. “When we were away,” Rock’s jaw clenches because of the reasons for that trip and what happened, “Sasha told me that James had been disappearing in the middle of the night. Sometimes all night long.”

  The real reason we were there was to meet Hawk, another Program operative. He’d contacted Rock. About Summer. It was a warning to let him know he’d been hired to retrieve Summer, and to eliminate anyone in his way.

  Meaning us.

  The very reason Snake had set himself up as the target, the blockade, between them and us.

  “It’s probably a mistress,” Rock states. But the expression on his face says he doesn’t believe that. Just like I don’t believe it.

  “That would make the most sense.” I pause. “If Sasha hadn’t seen someone outside her house when he was gone.”

  “Didn’t you have guys outside watching her house?” he asks. “Did they see anything?”

  This time it’s me who tenses. “They said they didn’t.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Would you?”

  Rock stares at me, and me him.

  There’s a lot of shit going on, and it’s all shrouded in darkness and veils. Nothing is clear. It’s all assumptions and possibilities. What’s a part of the mission is beginning to blur with our personal lives.

  The number one rule is don’t make it personal.

  This could be something valid, something critical.

  Or it’s nothing.

  Nothing gets people killed.

  “Tell me about Dominic.” Rock hasn’t moved. That’s because he’s on lockdown.

  Because this is personal.

  We’re trained to think militarily all the time. It’s always business. The mission is foremost.

  This couldn’t get any more personal.

  The enemy will always use what will affect you the most.

  Summer, Sasha, and Gwendolyn are it for us. Raven is what got Snake taken down.

  That’s not the problem.

  The problem is we don’t know who the enemy is. It could be anyone.

  “His name is Dominic Fellini. He told Sasha she is an asset.” Rock’s eyes narrow to slits. “He asked James to arrange for lunch with the three of them.” His nostrils flare. “He was in her house today.”

  My fucking blood is boiling. It all sounds way too familiar.

  “Dominic is also very rich, and I’m sure extremely powerful. I’m not sure how…yet.”

  Rock doesn’t ask me specific questions about Dominic. He doesn’t need to because I’ve already told him. Dominic is very similar to us in some way, maybe more ways then we’ll ever know. Dominic is dirty. The how almost doesn’t matter.

  “This deal James is being applauded for…what is it exactly?”

  “That’s the thing. There aren’t a lot of details. The information that is public knowledge outlines a real estate deal for a very large tract of land that was abandoned years ago. The buyer listed is a bank in London.”

  “A bank?”

  “Yes. A bank. No investors, no company, no proposed purpose of the land. It had been used for manufacturing years ago. But no plans have been submitted for prospective land use. It’s all fucking strange.”

  And they’re getting away with it.

  “Interesting,” Rock says again.

  “I would say that is how James fits into the whole situation. His position with the city allowed for this venture to be…nondescript. He’s their ‘in’, whoever they are,” at this point I’m verbalizing my thoughts. Putting the pieces together and throwing them out there.

  Rock strokes the scruff on his chin, deep in thought. “I agree. I doubt highly James has any powerful affiliation with underground organizations. The guy stinks of dirty money, but he’s too straight and narrow to be highly connected. My bet is he’s a puppet.”

  I shake my head once. “Normally I’d have to agree. The one thing you’re not taking into consideration is, that house they live in? Those cars they drive? Those fucking thousand dollar suits? They didn’t just happen overnight.”

  Rock’s hard glare meets mine. “No, they don’t.”

  “A town councilman’s salary will not buy that shit.”

  “Strange how he seems to be buddy-buddy with a man like Dominic Fellini, whoever he is,” Rock adds.

  My mind is processing all of the information we have like a server downloading the latest update, going from lightning speed to slow as fucking molasses, then back again.

  “Do you remember when Summer was taken?” I ask Rock.

  His entire body tenses. “How can I fucking forget?”

  Summer had been kidnapped by a fiancée she’d never met. It was an arrange
d marriage, one meant to secure power and control for her father. Part of the arrangement was she was to be trained by her would-be father in law. She’d been handed over to him when she was just a teenager and was his sex slave. And no doubt whatever else he demanded. Summer’s father, Mr. Hollingsworth is the head of a community, a social order if you will, called The Club. Its members are like who’s who of some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world.

  We know because initially we were hired to retrieve her. We read her file.

  But that was after Rock claimed her, we claimed her, and made her one of us. She belonged to Rock from the moment he laid eyes on her. Therefore, she belongs to all of us.

  But she had been taken. She’d been kidnapped by her fiancée.

  “Do you remember when we’d first found out she was missing?” I continue.

  “Like it was fucking yesterday,” Rock growls.

  “Then you remember how we got the lead,” I let the statement hang in the air.

  A tsunami of realization hits Rock. “Sasha…”

  “Sasha’s husband.”

  “He’d had a meeting with that fucking prick!”

  “Yes, and Sasha overheard them outside of his office,” I finish with the cherry on top.

  “GODDAMN IT.” Rock’s face is a mask of rage.

  Just like mine.

  I nod slowly. “It’s possible The Club is part of this whole deal James is helping push through.”

  “But what do you think the connection is with the MC club, the Steel Brothers? If they saw someone outside of Sasha’s house? Hell, they could have very well been a part of it.”

  “They could have. Or the stupid fucks weren’t doing their job and really didn’t see anything. We don’t know,” that little fact infuriates me.

  “Could we ask the president? Isn’t he an old friend of Bull’s?” Rock suggests.

  “I doubt it. The president told Bull after the shit storm at the Ink & Arms convention that his debt to him was paid.” My eyes lock with Rocks. “He also told him that if we went after them for retaliation, he’s not holding them back.”

  “I see,” Rock goes back to stroking his chin in thought.

  A long stretch of silence passes as we let the proverbial dust settle and the pieces fit together.

  “There are a lot of intangibles,” Rock states quietly.

  “Yep. A lot of fucking possible players,” I add.

  “And the four of us,” Rock comments.

  I cringe. So does he no doubt, not realizing what he naturally just said.

  “Three, Rock,” I correct him quietly.

  A flash of pain clouds his features. “Right.”

  Another quiet moment passes as we come to terms with everything laying in our lap.

  I laugh quietly. It’s twisted and ironic. “You know what pisses me off the most about this whole fucking thing?”

  Rock’s gaze meets mine. It’s dark and full of fury. “What?”

  “That sick prick referred to Sasha as being an ‘asset’.”

  Rock knows what I’m feeling. He’s been gutted by that blade. That’s exactly what Summer had been to her father and The Club. Merely a means to an end.

  He nods his head in angry agreement.

  “We have a lot of work to do,” I finally say.

  “Yeah, we do. I think I’m going to make a phone call,” he says quietly.

  “Yeah,” I stand. “I’ve got someone I need to see.” I toss him the keys to my Porsche. “Let me use your truck.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Gringo

  Envisioning Sasha alone in her house with both James and Fellini is fucking hell.

  I’ve witnessed a whole lot of fucked up things in my life, but imagining what the both of them could have done to her fucks with my goddamn head. She hadn’t said much of anything in her text, but I knew she’d been terrified.

  I want to know why. And I want to know right fucking now. Not being able to go to her, to see her with my own eyes and be sure she’s okay is killing me.

  This was supposed to be fun. She was just supposed to be a lay. I was only supposed to get close. When the fuck did she crawl under my skin? When did I start caring for her?

  I’m a killer, a mercenary. I’m cold and heartless. I can’t care about her!

  Like a caged animal, I’m pacing back and forth, the waiting is pure torture.

  It’s only been twenty-four hours since she’d sent the text, but it feels like an eternity. Last night we’d talked for a short time…while I’d been parked on the street outside of her house. I didn’t take my car because it would have been a huge red flag, ‘Look at me! I’m right fucking here, the man screwing the magnificent James William’s wife!’ It sucked, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I borrowed Rock’s truck, no one in this small town would accuse Rock of having any underhanded intentions of being there. Everyone knows he’s with Summer. Me, I’m the douche banging the town manager’s wife. As I’d sat there all night after Rock and I talked, I’d gone through a mental list of everyone we’ve had contact with over the years, of every single mission we’d been assigned, trying to recall if we’ve ever come across the name Fellini. I’d even made a few phone calls to people I thought I could trust, but trust is virtually nonexistent in our line of business. No one knew the name. Everything came up empty.

  Someone who has as much money as Dominic Fellini appears to have, and even more influence, doesn’t seem to exist.

  That’s fucking impossible.

  Especially with everything we’ve got at our disposal. Hell, we could get intel on Mahatma Gandhi if we wanted to.

  Unless that’s not his real name.

  That is a very real possibility.

  I need a picture. I need something that will get me an identity.

  If I could get into Sasha’s house, or into James’ office, I could break into his computers and search his files, even his goddamn phone would work. But he works for the government and everything is under video surveillance, and so is his home. Not that it’s stopped me before. If I keep running into dead ends, that will be my only option.

  I worried about Sasha’s safety before because of her connection to me and the danger she could possibly be under with the contract that is no doubt still out on us, and our mission. Now I don’t want to take my eyes off her. I don’t trust her with anyone else. Not even her husband.

  Especially not her husband.

  James is a part of something, I don’t know how big, but things just don’t make sense. His possible affiliation to Summer’s father and her ex-fiancée, the vagueness of the multi-million-dollar land deal he’s facilitating, and what about the Steel Brothers? Were they connected in all of this somehow, are they?

  Too many questions, too many possibilities, too many loose ends.

  When I’d gotten her text, my first instinct was to go to her.

  There was no way I could have.

  I had to wait for her to come to me.

  It’s been twenty-four long hours.

  I hear the garage door open, she has her own remote. And her own keys to my house.

  I don’t wait for her to enter, my body moves to her instinctively, pulled to her, needing to see her, touch her, possess her. Before the metal door closes I’ve got the adjoining door flung open and am at her car.

  “Are you okay?” my voice is tight.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she says quietly.

  I grab her hand and practically drag her into my house.

  I know we won’t be able to continue to meet this way. Her pulling into my garage without any thought to who might see her. We’re way beyond grabbing a quick fuck in the private room in the shop. Besides that’s not what I want from her.

  That’s not what she deserves.

  When we’re inside and I can finally see her up close, assure myself that she is indeed okay, at least physically, I feel my body start to relax for the first time since that cocksucker was in her house.

  The man who had
called her an asset.

  Fury rages within me once again remembering it.

  “Goddamn it Sasha!” I grip her upper arms. I know I’m holding her too fucking tight, I’m going to leave bruises. I can’t help it. I was so worried about her, afraid that something was going to happen to her, and I wouldn’t be there. That I’d be too late. “Did they fucking touch you?”

  Worry flashes across her face. “NO.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I’d know,” I shake her once.

  “No, they didn’t. He just…Dominic just…”

  “What?! What did he do?” I’ve got my face in hers. I can’t see straight, I’m so enraged.

  “He kissed me. It was nothing, just that two kiss on the cheek thing,” she sputters quickly.

  I’ve still got her held tightly, staring into her eyes. His filthy lips touched her! I don’t move, neither does she, both of us breathing heavy, the tension between us palpable.

  “Take. Your. Fucking. Clothes off,” I grit out tightly between clenched teeth. “I need to erase him, both of them, from your body.”

  I’m angry. Not at her. At them. At my fucking self. At Dominic, for thinking he has the right to touch her. For taking the privilege of putting his lips on her skin. Thinking it was his right. And James, her fucking husband, for letting him.

  I drop my hands from her and take a step a back.

  “Gringo,” she takes a step toward me and reaches a hand out to touch me.

  “Sasha. Now.”

  Slowly she reaches down and takes hold of the hem of her shirt, then pulls it over her head.

  “What was he doing at your house?” She drops her gaze from mine. “Tell me.” My body is vibrating from fury.

  “He said he asked to have lunch. The three of us.” She lowers her jeans and steps out of them, pushing them to the side along with her heels. Next she lowers her sheer panties; nude with little black bows.

  “Why?”

  She unclips the matching bra and slides the straps down her arms. “I’m not sure.” She still won’t meet my gaze.