The world spun, and she was observing his back a second later, as he dropped her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Mia tried to fight, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She flapped limply.
He laughed, clearly enjoying her distress. “I hit you with enough to bring down a crackhead three times your size and blasted on PCP. You aren’t doing anything for a while. I thought about accidentally overdoing the voltage and solving the problem, but I didn’t want to deny the boss his fun.”
“Fun?” she croaked, barely able to form the word.
Another cold chuckle abraded her ears. “He told me to lock you up. I’ve seen what he does to people in the cage. You’re in for a real treat. Maybe your dead body dropped at Peretti’s doorstep will be enough to bring this foolishness to an end.”
Mia shuddered, unsure if it was a remnant from the tasing or fear that sparked the motion. She couldn’t really believe Shane planned to torture or kill her after he’d been so gentle with her the past few days before she’d run away.
Then again, she had fled when he was bleeding and vulnerable. Shane wasn’t exactly the poster child for letting go of grudges, and he would feel aggrieved. Another shiver racked her body, and this one was purely from dread at what methods he would use to satisfy his need for revenge if he felt ill-treated. And how could he not feel wronged when he was unlikely to consider the situation from her viewpoint?
* * *
The cage wasn’t quite what she had pictured. In her mind’s eye, as she’d lain in the trunk of Wallace’s car trying to regain control of her body and calm her fears, her mind had conjured something the size of a dog kennel. In reality, it was a small cell in the basement of Shane’s estate.
Not that it was a huge step up from a dog kennel. There was a commode with no lid, but not even a meager cot or blanket. Mia had regained some nerve function, so when Wallace casually dropped her on the cement floor outside the cell, while he fumbled with the keys, she managed to get to her feet before he subdued her again.
“None of that, bitch.” He forced her back to the floor before lifting and tossing her onto the concrete inside the cell.
Mia landed hard and bit her tongue. Blood flooded her mouth, but she didn’t cry out. Instead, she dabbed her tongue on the sleeve of her hoodie and watched Wallace warily. He stood against the outside of the cell for a long moment, staring at her with a peculiar expression. It wasn’t hunger—at least not the sexual kind—but he clearly wanted something from her.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than gawk at me?” The words came out a bit thick, due to her tongue still bleeding, and the sweatshirt fleece in her mouth.
He gave her a half-smile. “Oh, yeah. The boss will be recovering for a couple of days, so I’m just deciding what I’d like to do to you first.”
She glared at him, though her heart stuttered. “You won’t touch me. Shane wouldn’t like it.”
He laughed. “Shane doesn’t give a shit what happens to you now, slut, and you wouldn’t be the first guest of the cage to get worked over by the grunts before the boss finishes you off.”
Mia curled into herself, back pressed against the wall, as she watched Wallace. Her stomach curled with dread as he went to a large cabinet. The angle wasn’t good enough for her to see everything within, but she saw enough implements of torture to send an icy trickle of sweat down her spine.
He returned a few minutes later holding something composed of metal and leather. She eyed it, struggling not to betray her fear at the sight of metal bars, chain links, and leather cuffs.
“Take off your clothes, Mia, and I promise I’ll go easy on you for a bit.”
Mia shook her head, but she didn’t try kicking Wallace when he entered her cell a moment later. Instead, she pressed her back against the wall and remained passive as he approached. It was surprisingly easy to quell the instinct to resist as he came nearer, and it didn’t take deep self-analysis to figure out why.
Fighting Aldo had been a matter of pride and necessity. He seemed to regard her resistance as a nuisance, but he’d wanted her enough to deal with it. Shane had viewed it as a challenge, and it had evolved into a fucked up version of foreplay, but he had also wanted something else from her.
She could see in Wallace’s empty expression that he wanted her body, but not for anything pleasurable or kinky, beyond inflicting pain. He wanted her to hurt and bleed for his pleasure, and he wouldn’t care if she lived or died. In fact, he would clearly prefer she die, though he probably wouldn’t take it that far without Shane’s assent.
Self-preservation kicked into high gear as she acknowledged she was at his mercy, and the best way she could minimize her suffering was not fight him. It was bitter to accept, and she found herself in the crazy position of once more viewing Shane as a source of salvation. He had saved her from Aldo. Would he save her from his own man, or was he planning to do even worse to her?
Chapter Fourteen
“What? You can’t sign yourself out, Shane.”
With a wince, he angled his cell phone from his ear as his sister shrieked shrilly into it. Maybe he wasn’t so appreciative that Bruno had retrieved his possessions, including the phone, from his sister that morning. “I’m fine, Siobhan. I can rest at home as easily as I can at the hospital. Better, in fact, without every goddamn nurse in a ten-block radius coming in to check my vitals every five minutes.”
“No way. The doctor told Cormac and me you’d need several days in the hospital, along with recuperation at home. Three days doesn’t qualify as nearly long enough.”
He grinned, imagining how hopping mad his little sister must be right then. “Sorry, honey, but I have to get out of there. I have things to handle.”
“Like Mia?”
He stiffened slightly. “Maybe.”
She sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but she called to check on you the night you were shot.”
He jerked in surprise. “Oh?” Perfect. His tone was neutral, betraying no hint of interest.
“I don’t know the story, but Cormac told me not to judge her too harshly.” Siobhan sighed again. “Maybe you should keep that in mind too and not go into full get-revenge mode.”
Shane frowned at the phone. “Revenge? For what?”
“She got you shot.”
He laughed softly. “I suppose, but that’s a gross oversimplification of events, Siobhan. There are things I can’t tell you—”
“I know, Shane.”
“So you’ll have to take my word—”
“No,” she interrupted, “I mean I know the things you can’t tell me. Cormac and I had a long talk. With all your…responsibilities, you need to stay in the hospital and rest a bit longer before resuming them. Please just stay there until I can come talk to you, okay?”
He sighed. “Sorry, sis, but I’m already in the car headed home. I’ll talk to you later.” Without giving her a chance to continue her campaign for him to stay in the hospital—or go back, he supposed—he hung up the phone, put on silent mode, and slipped it into the pocket of his pants.
Bruno glanced at him from the front of the car. “Everything okay, boss?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Just fucking peachy, Bruno.” His sister knew he was in the mafia, and the woman he lo…was fixated on had run out on him when he was bleeding on the ground, hovering between life and death. At least Wallace had tracked her down with the GPS chip he’d slipped into the birth control shot, and she’d be waiting for him at home.
He was going to make her wait a day or two, he decided, before confronting her. Let her stay locked up and imagining the worst before he went to see her. It wouldn’t do his temper any harm to get some time to regain control too. Right now, rage and resentment burned in his belly like cheap whiskey, and he knew it wasn’t safe to go near her just yet.
* * *
Even not knowing exactly what Shane had planned for her, Mia was still relieved to see him when he entered the basement two days after Wallace had ta
ken her from the street. Her first thought was he looked like hell. His normally robust tanned skin was pale, and his face looked gaunt, though he couldn’t have lost much weight in the four days since she’d seen him, even with a gunshot wound.
Her gaze darted to the sling encasing his left arm, where she could see the bulky bandage covering most of the left side of his chest and clavicle underneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt. It was insane, but she had to physically bite her tongue to keep from asking how he felt and fretting over him being out of the hospital already.
The reality of her position and situation made it easier to rein in the concern. She lay on the cold concrete, naked as the day she was born, with her hands cuffed to her ankles, which were spread by a metal bar. It was an obscene, undignified pose, but Wallace seemed to have no sexual interest in her.
Instead, he’d contented himself with hurting her in a physical, rather than sexual, fashion. He’d hit her with his fists a few times in the ribs before switching to a solid paddle he brought out every few hours. Mia knew some people used those toys in sex games, but she could never look at the thing and imagine it bringing someone pleasure after the way he’d hurt her with it.
She watched Shane silently from her position on the floor, rolled on her side to ease some of the pressure on her knees the device inflicted if she chose to sit upright. Her entire body ached, both from the horrible confinement of the apparatus binding her and the casual abuses Wallace had doled out the past two days.
Her tormentor seemed completely at ease as Shane approached. “Hey, boss.”
Mia could see Shane was barely holding himself in check, and her stomach knotted as she wondered if she or Wallace was the object of his repressed anger.
“Why is she here?”
Wallace still seemed oblivious. “You told me to find her, boss, so I got the coordinates from your computer like you said and tracked her down.”
Shane’s fist clenched at his side. The other might have as well, but it was difficult to tell with his arm in the sling. “I told you to find her and put her under lock and key. I didn’t tell you to put her in the cage.”
For just a second, his hot gaze scorched her. Mia trembled under the force of his rage, though she dared hope it was directed solely at Wallace.
“I sure as fuck didn’t tell you to strip her and turn her into your own personal sadistic wet dream.”
Wallace stiffened, perhaps finally realizing he was in deep shit. “You said to lock her up. That’s always meant the cage, boss. The cage means we can play with them first.”
Shane scowled. “You aren’t playing with anyone. They’re in the cage to sweat and enhance fear. It’s not supposed to be some sick game, you twisted fuck.”
Abruptly, his attention turned to her. “Did he hurt you?”
She nodded slowly, wondering if his eyes weren’t working. Evidence of Wallace’s assault, in the form of bruises and scrapes, marred her body. Tentatively, Mia licked her lips, wincing at the split her tongue opened again. It hadn’t had a chance to heal since her collision with the cell bars yesterday when Wallace had thrown her face-first against them.
“Did he touch you?”
Realizing what he was asking, she shook her head. Her voice remained trapped inside her, like a timid mouse in a hole.
Before she could fully grasp what was happening, there was a gun in Shane’s hand. Even as her mind processed its appearance, she saw him point it at Wallace and fire. A deafening sound echoed around the small concrete room, and she whimpered as sharp pain ricocheted through her ears.
With a look of stunned surprise, Wallace fell to the floor, a gaping hole in his forehead, and a lake of blood surrounding him in seconds. Horrified at the sight, though not managing any compassion for his lost life, she turned her gaze from the dead man to the live one twisting a key in the lock.
Realizing he still vibrated with fury, she pressed her bare back into the rough concrete and waited for Shane to enter the cell. It was clear not all his rage had been for Wallace.
Despite his obvious anger, his expression and tone were cool when he loomed over her. “That’s a good look for you, Mia. I’m tempted to keep you bound like that for the next ten years or so.”
“Are you going to beat me and throw me around the cell too?” How was her voice so normal and composed, considering the events of the past few days, culminating in witnessing the murder of someone? A sadistic psychopath to be sure, but it still should have left her more traumatized.
His lips skinned back in a facsimile of a smile that was more like the satisfied smirk of a hunter cornering its prey. “Not at all. I have much better ways to make you pay, Mia.”
She bit her tongue to hold in a retort, wanting to point out she had nothing to pay for, but afraid to push him in his current volatile mood. This was a side of Shane she didn’t think she’d seen before, balancing between anger and something she might tentatively identify as hurt if he were a different person.
That was stupid, because everyone could be hurt. Had she hurt Shane by running from him, or was he just enraged she still wasn’t the tamed pet he’d envisioned when he stole her from her life? The not knowing kept her silent as he bent down to free her from the painful contraption that had held her.
“It’s going to hurt like a bitch in about a minute.” He said that as if speaking about nothing more consequential than the possibility of rain showers. “Your muscles and blood supply are going to realize the change in positions, and you’re going to be in a world of pain.” He grinned at her.
Mia sat up cautiously, already feeling tingling that was escalating to pain. “You don’t have to sound so cheerful…” She trailed off as the throbbing increased, letting out a wail when burning agony overtook her. “Son of a bitch.”
“Yep.” He knelt down beside her, grasping her forearm to haul her to her feet.
“God, it hurts.” She tried to drop back into a ball on the floor, but he wouldn’t permit it. “Let go.”
“If I do, you’ll fall.” He didn’t seem concerned either way as he lessened his hold, and she started to slump downward.
“Fuck me.” Mia’s shoulders screamed in protest as she braced her palms on the floor.
“Oh, I will later, but not yet.”
She looked up at him, not missing the surge of satisfaction in his expression. “What’s first?”
“I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer a bit, baby. I kind of like seeing you on the floor, writhing in agony. Then again, maybe I’ll just walk away and leave you here while you’re completely vulnerable.”
His words were cold and cruel, but she saw the barely contained hurt underneath and knew she had read him correctly earlier. He was angry at her perceived betrayal and anguished that she had left him while he was injured.
Guilt ripped through her, and she couldn’t ignore it, though it was a preposterous reaction. She had acted sensibly and fled her kidnapper. She hadn’t betrayed her lover. Right? God, even she didn’t know, and she couldn’t focus on it as sensations returned to her battered body that left her rolling on the floor in agony, as he’d predicted.
Gradually, the terrible pain faded, and she was finally able to take a deep breath and sit up, drawing her knees to her chest. Her muscles still trembled slightly, making her body quiver, and the chill in the air had permeated deep into her flesh, but she was going to survive—this, anyway. She still didn’t know what revenge Shane had planned for her.
“Can you walk now?” He didn’t offer assistance.
Gingerly, she got to her feet, swaying slightly before putting a hand against the wall to brace herself. He just watched her struggle until she nodded. “I think so.”
Without another word, he grabbed hold of her upper arm and started hustling her toward the door leading from this section of the basement. Mia stopped moving when she realized he meant to take her though the house in her current state. “Please let me have my clothes first.”
With a muttered sigh, clearly
impatient, Shane dragged her behind him to a table, where Wallace had left her clothes. He dug out the hoodie and tossed it to her. “Hurry up.”
Mia slid the garment over her aching arms, wincing as she overextended the strained muscles before zipping the fleece up to her neck. Thank goodness it was old and oversized, meaning it fell to mid-thigh and would provide enough coverage to mostly maintain her modesty in front of the household staff and Shane’s goons.
Determined not to look weak or victimized—or betray her fear—Mia squared her shoulders and walked beside Shane. She didn’t meet the gazes of the few people they encountered, but nor did she drop her head with shame. None of them knew for sure that she was being punished, and it mattered to her not to appear weak to them, though she didn’t know why.
She let the cool mask lapse a bit when Shane escorted her into his room. She’d half-expected to end up back in the bedroom where he’d kept her confined initially, so it was surprising to be in his suite.
A loud meow greeted her, and she bent down carefully, conscious of the stiffness permeating her body, to greet her cat. Clovis wound around her ankles and purred as she rubbed his head. She had to bite back the urge to apologize for leaving him without a thought the night she had run from the ballet.
“He’s glad you’re back.”
There was no emotion in Shane’s tone, but Mia hoped he wasn’t talking only about her cat. She nodded a bit. “I missed him.” Refusing to say more because she didn’t want to reveal her own vulnerability and uncertainties, she stood up carefully. “Now what?”
“A reminder.”
She watched his hand flex and release, her tension rising. “Of what?”
“Ownership.” Shane’s expression went from neutral to cold, with a hint of cruelty and a strong note of anger. “Strip.”
She thought about resisting for a half a second, but discarded the notion. For one thing, she wasn’t in top physical form to fight him and would quickly lose. Also—and she chastised herself for being a moron—she didn’t want him to further injure himself. And the dark part of her that she couldn’t comfortably embrace didn’t want to fight her reminder and was actually looking forward to his unique form of discipline with sick glee.
MAFIA: Dark Romance Collection Page 14
