“Alright. Enough. Jesus Christ,” Rock cuts in.
“Do you have to put up with this shit all the time?” Hawk asks him.
“All the damn time.” He has the balls to actually roll his eyes.
“I’m so grateful I work alone,” Hawk grunts.
“If you two gentlemen are finished? Can we get back to business?” I growl.
“What we know…,” Snake begins, “Is not a damn thing about him. That is on paper, traceable, on record. Zero. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that’s not his name. Or he’s not supposed to be found.”
“I couldn’t even get an ID on him with a photo,” that pissed me off.
“Which means he doesn’t exist,” Hawk. The only time he ever talks is when he’s got something to say.
Realistically we know that the man is a living, breathing human being. But according to all known records including public, private, and confidential, there is no Dominic Fellini.
Anywhere. At. All.
His photo isn’t in any databases either.
That means one thing, and one thing only.
The man has an extremely important position. Somewhere.
I ease into the back of the chair. “Interesting how someone like that is pulling the puppet strings on James Williams and coordinating the sale of some random abandoned mill out in the middle of bum fuck Egypt.”
“A mill,” Snake adds, “that runs adjacent to a river that was once used for import and export.” He pauses. “Out in the middle of bum fuck Egypt. No one around for miles and miles.”
My eyes travel from Snake, to Rock, to Hawk.
“Seems like a lot of money just to buy it and not do anything with it. So we get to have a look around in the morning?” I sneer.
“We head out at three a.m. You know the drill, this is recognizant only, we are to merely make an assessment of the situation,” Rock is all hoofuckingrah, military mode.
HELL YES.
“Last I heard about the deal is that one of the stockholders hasn’t given up ownership. It seemed Williams was confident about persuasion.” I inform them. Then I bring up what else Sasha told me. “Apparently James has something going on with a Saudi Arabian party, and from what I was told, they’re not too happy with him.”
“Why?” Rock asks.
“I’m not sure, but he seemed certain he would rectify the problem,” my gaze burns a hole in Rock with the last piece of information. “and he has a special gift to give them.”
The weight of my words continue to echo in the office, their unsaid meaning is so horrible, and so goddamn heavy.
“You don’t fucking think…,” Snake is shaking his head.
“Yeah, I fucking think. He plans to sell Sasha.” The hatred I have for that man is immeasurable. “Tomorrow we find out what they’ve got planned at the mill and we shut that shit down.”
Then I hope that Sasha will forgive me.
“Are you sure James Williams has no clue?” Rock brings my mind back into the mission instead of the revenge I’m thirsty for.
“Do I think he has an idea that the powers that be know he’s double crossing them? No, I don’t.” I respond.
“Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Stalin or something? James and his sick family made a deal with the The Club and it set him up for life. He got a position in society, a career, money, and a wife as a bonus. Her family received financial backing and got rich. It just cost them one daughter and a pay-off in time. Like a goddamn mortgage,” Rock snarls.
“From what I believe, the other bad guys James is playing with are into some serious shit. They’re like a cancer and move silent but deadly. They work underground, and they’re fast and thorough. And take no prisoners.” Hawk. When he’s got something to say it’s some serious shit.
“But The Club has some very powerful connections, they won’t take that lying down,” Rock argues.
“True,” Snake agrees. “I guess at the end of playtime; it’ll depend on who’s got the bigger gun.”
I hope it’s mine, and I hope the barrel’s pointed right at James’ head. I would be doing everyone a favor
“It seems as though James has decided who he’d like to be in bed with. That mill deal states it pretty clearly. And I’d bet my ass the whole thing has been a process in the making for years. No one buys a multi-million-dollar piece of property for illegal operations on the fly.” I comment.
“What I want to know is who are the other guys James has been in bed with? We know The Club, but what is the other organization?” Rock turns to Hawk.
Being on his own and out in the streets, Hawk comes across information in the most unusual places. You wouldn’t believe the tidbits of interesting intel that can be picked up in biker bars and honky tonks.
“Definitely European. My guess would be Russian or German. I’m not sure. It would be determined by what level they trade in. If it’s more criminal, then Russian. If it’s more black market, that can be German. We might know more tomorrow once you’re inside the mill.”
Rock focuses on Snake and I. “Tomorrow, Snake, you’ll be positioned here,” Rock straightens a map of the mill and the surrounding woods. “You’ll have your rifle fixed on the front. Gringo, you come up this side, Bull will come up the rear, and I’ll approach from your opposite side. We will coordinate a time in the morning for all of us to enter the building at the same time. Snake you’ll keep your ass right here until it’s time to retreat.” Rock is outlining routes on the blueprints of the mill we’ve been studying for weeks. “This is where each of us will enter. The drones have shown us places that are accessible.”
We’ve been making plans ever since we found out about the land deal. I’ve burned the mill blueprints into my brain, studied them as I’ve sat outside Sasha’s house at night. I’ve practically tasted the vengeance I’ll finally have when we find out what’s going on there, and exactly what’s going on with James.
It’s so damn good.
I listen to Rock, hear the questions and comments, but at the same time, I’m thinking about Sasha.
It’s gives me a sense of relief that when this is finished, although she’ll still hate me, she’ll be safe.
And free.
CHAPTER 18
Sasha
I’ve watched for Dominic from my bedroom window. I had very little sleep, and whenever I did pass out, the slightest noise took care of that immediately. I wouldn’t go downstairs this morning. My bedroom door remained locked, and I’d stayed inside. I won’t fool myself into believing James couldn’t get in. I believe James could do whatever the hell he wants.
I know Dominic can do whatever the fuck he pleases.
But he’s taking me out of here. I don’t know where, and it doesn’t matter. It’s out of here and away from James. That’s all I care about.
The drapes are gripped tightly in my hand when I see his car pull into the driveway. Terror and relief rush over me. I battle between staying right where I am or going, not knowing if I should stay with the devil (I thought) I know, to the devil I don’t.
What am I doing? I don’t know this man. He scares the living hell out of me. Why am I trusting him?
Because he didn’t take James up on his offer to fuck me.
He didn’t make any comment about the welts on my ass.
Because he knocked James on his ass.
I drop the heavy fabric, grab my purse, and walk confidently from my room.
I’m almost at the door when I hear James. “You chose your outfit well for today.” He’s the arrogant cocky bastard that he normally is.
A feeling of foreboding makes me tremble.
I stop but I don’t turn around. “I’m glad you approve.” I have nothing for him but disgust.
“Have fun, Sasha.” I can hear his sneer.
I slam the door behind me when I exit and don’t stop until I get to Dominic’s car. There’s a driver sitting at the wheel, his face is fixed somewhere else but at me. Dominic’s wai
ting for me with the passenger door open dressed in an Armani suit, his tie perfectly straight, and not a hair out of place. He’s extremely handsome in a cold and ruthlessness kind of way. If you like the cold hearted bastard type.
“I’m very pleased with you, Sasha,” he tells me as I slide into the seat.
I don’t really care.
When the driver backs the car out of the driveway, my hands clutching my purse tightly, I finally ask, “Where are you taking me?”
He grins a sly smirk. “To get you divorced.”
Stunned. I am absolutely and completely stunned.
Finally, I turn to look at him. He appears content, maybe even smug. “You are joking, aren’t you?” I managed to get out.
“No.”
I wait for more, but it doesn’t come. When I can’t stand the silence any longer, I have to ask, “Why are you doing this?”
This doesn’t make sense at all. For the life of me, I cannot comprehend why Dominic Fellini would get involved in my personal life. He’s James’ business partner, why would he do this for me?
He turns to face me. “Do you want me to take you back to James? I know you like a bit of pain,” he quirks an eyebrow at me. A rush of heat explodes on my face from his reference to the lingering welts on my ass he saw the other night. “But surely you cannot be that much of a masochist. Are you Sasha?”
I jerk my attention away from him and stare out the side window at the blur of houses passing by. Humiliation washes over me knowing the driver can hear everything we’re saying, besides the fact Dominic knows this about me. “No.” I want to cry, but I refuse. I will not give James, or Dominic, anymore of me, not even my tears.
“I didn’t think so,” he almost sounds bored.
No more words are spoken as we proceed the short drive to the courthouse in the next town. The silence is a welcome retreat from my usual need to say the right things, to be the person I’m supposed to be. It’s almost a relief, and would be if I trusted Dominic. I don’t know anything about him, but I don’t have to.
Something tells me he’s worse than all of them.
I roll the idea of being divorced around on my tongue, taste the sweet flavor of it.
The taste of freedom.
Caution keeps me from giggling with the realization that Dominic is giving me exactly what I wanted from him, and I didn’t even have to try to manipulate him. He’s giving me more than I could have hoped for. When this is over with, I plan on going to Gringo’s house and slapping him in the face with the papers, the bastard.
I wonder what he’ll say, what his reaction will be? Will he be happy? Relieved?
Will he care at all?
I don’t have time to dwell on Gringo as the driver parks the car. Dominic exits the car and rounds to my side and opens the door for me, holding his hand out for me to take it as if we were on some ridiculous date. I amuse him and take his outstretched palm, and even allow him to lead me up the steps and through the foyer with a hand at my back. He’s giving me what I want so I’ll play his game of appearances, for whatever reason he seems to want to play them. We arrive at a closed door at the end of the ground floor hallway. He doesn’t stop to knock, only lets himself in as if he has every right to. There’s an older gentlemen seated at the large formal imitation cherry wood desk, there are degrees and official looking documents hanging on the wall behind him. On the desktop is a placard that states Judge Henry McMillan.
“Mr. Fellini, so nice to see you again,” the man greets Dominic.
“Henry, thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Dominic replies.
Henry waves him off with a friendly smile. “Nonsense, I’m happy you called. How’s the golf game? You do realize I let you win.”
What the hell is going on here?
Dominic laughs, and if I hadn’t seen him in bastard mode, I’d be fooled into believing this man who’s watched me suck a dick is a likeable guy. My gaze bounces from one man to the next trying to grasp the bizarreness of this entire situation.
“Yes, I’ve heard the stories of how good you are,” Dominic feeds him what I’m sure is a line of total horseshit. I have to stop myself from eye rolling and letting out a, Please spare me this crap.
The man named Henry shuffles a pile of papers on his desk and begins to flip through them.
“Next time I’m not going to be so easy on you,” Henry states as he folds back the pages and holds out a pen.
Dominic nudges me forward and motions for me to take the pen. Neither of them have bothered to acknowledge my presence.
What I want to do is demand someone tell me what in the actual hell is going on here. What I do is step forward and take the pen from the man who’s acting like I’m not in the room.
That’s fine with me, I can pretend I’m not here either. But I refuse to be led blindly anymore.
“I wouldn’t want you to. In fact, let’s make the game a bit more interesting, shall we?” Dominic laughs.
There’s an X inked next to a line with my name below it. I scan the print quickly trying to pick out some words. Everything I catch leads me to believe this is the divorce decree. I’ll be damned, he really did bring me to get divorced. I assume I’m supposed to sign, so I do.
I’ve never been divorced before, but I know this is not how it’s supposed to happen. Who would have guessed it, one of our finest deals in black-market divorces.
“Betting is illegal in this state,” Henry makes his voice sound serious as he flips the page still ignoring me.
They make me want to gag.
Both men laugh as I scan through the words quickly. I don’t trust either of these men, apparently I have every reason not to. If I’m getting the back room legal proceedings, God only knows what else they do. But I’m satisfied with the document, so I sign my name on the page.
“Now Henry, would I ask you to do something that was below the letter of the law?” Dominic asks just as seriously.
Give me a break!
They share another laugh as Henry flips to another page with another place for me to sign. I read this one as well with the pen poised above the line.
“Absolutely not,” Henry pulls the paperwork back after I sign at each place that had my name, folds it up, and sets it to the side.
“Of course not, that’s why we get along so well,” Dominic extends his hand indicating that I should stand next to him again.
Annoyed and frustrated, I want to bark questions and demand someone tell me what’s happening. I want answers. I’m tired of moving along in the dark. Dominic is going to have some explaining to do once we get back in the car.
“Excellent,” Henry slaps the desk. “I’ll have my secretary schedule us a tee time. She’ll get in touch with you to inform you of the date.”
Dominic guides me back toward the door. “I look forward to it.” Dominic opens the door and leads me out, closing it behind us.
My head is spinning as we walk back through the foyer, out the double glass door of the building, and down the steps. Nervous energy speeds my steps as we move along the sidewalk. I will not allow myself to believe I’m finally free. Not yet, not until I have something concrete in my hands. Our stride doesn’t slow, not until we get back to the car and he opens the door for me. I still don’t say anything as I get in and wait for him. When he settles himself on the seat next to me, the driver backs up and leaves the parking lot. The entire time I’m staring at Dominic’s profile.
“Care to tell me what just happened?” I say as soon as the car turns on to the road.
“I told you,” Dominic replies in that same bored tone.
“You talked about golf,” I snap.
“You signed paperwork.”
“He didn’t say anything to me,” I retort.
“He didn’t need to,” Dominic comments smoothly.
“That’s not how divorces are done!” my tone is rising rapidly, I’m so frustrated.
“Does it matter?” he settles his hard stare on me.
I blink at him, taken aback. “I’m not sure.” Because I don’t really. Henry was a damn judge. There are a million crooked politicians. Money can buy just about anything.
Dominic has a ton of it.
“It’s done, Sasha.”
My mind is moving a million miles a minute, still processing everything that has happened, and everything that is happening, and trying to get them to meet somewhere cohesive in the middle.
What does this really mean? And why now with him? Does James know about this? Is the contract with my family satisfied? Are they going to suffer because of my selfishness?
So many unanswered questions. So many possible repercussions. So many things that can go wrong.
Looking forward again, he reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and removes the crisp white handkerchief. With the other, he removes something from another pocket. A small brown bottle. I’m not watching him as he opens the bottle, I’m too busy trying to put the pieces of everything together. I see him, but I’m not seeing him. I’m not paying attention as he presses it to the cloth then turns it over. An aroma fills the space. That’s when I look at him, wondering what he’s doing. He caps the bottle and returns it to his pocket.
His face turns to me casually.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around what just happened at the courthouse.
Dominic quickly grabs me on the back of my head and shoves the handkerchief over my mouth.
Panic, overwhelming panic grips me as my hands and feet start flailing.
He grips me tighter with the hand at the back of my head immobilizing me in his grip. “Ssshh, Sasha. Don’t fight it. There’s nothing you can do.”
His eyes are hard, his voice is cold, and his hold is like iron.
I will myself to fight harder, to break his hold on me. He only tightens his grip on me and pushes the cloth harder onto my face. I’m choking for breath; he’s cut off the air I’m desperately trying to suck in. The more I suck in, the dizzier I get.
“It’ll be over soon,” he whispers to me in that sickening calm way he has.
I try to fight him off, I scream into his hand, I hit and kick with everything I’ve got, but the blackness closes in on me.
Tortured Page 14
