Why do I feel like there’s a hidden message behind his unnerving words? I force a strained smile, keeping my eyes trained out the window. “Great. Fantastic. Okay then.” Vincent takes a call, and my ears perk, trying to eavesdrop.
“What time? Good… No, keep them there. And the second? Make the same adjustments. Yes. Have him meet us at the house. Set it up. Make sure. Yes. As we discussed.” He hangs up, and I bite down on my tongue to stop the questions that want to burst from my mouth. Keep who there? What adjustments? What does he mean by the second? He’s talking in code, clearly trying to conceal the information from me.
We head up a long driveway until a huge, luxurious house comes into view. Parking in front, a man comes forward and opens my door. “Miss.” He steps aside to allow me to exit the vehicle. Vincent’s hand grazes my lower back, and he escorts me up the ridiculous number of stairs to his front door. A butler stands in the doorway, waving his hand out for me to go in first. I’m glad my back is to him, so he doesn’t notice my growing nerves. I survey my surroundings. The place is immaculate. Freshly polished marble flooring. Bronze statues lining the open foyer. Definitely fit for a king. I walk further in when a beefy goon appears from a hidden hallway to the left and steps in front of me. His meaty hands reach forward, and I jump back, slapping him away. “Whoa, watch it, Andre the Giant!” I snap.
“It’s customary for anyone who enters my home to be properly searched. You’re not hiding anything I should know about, are you?”
My mouth parts and I tense as my head whips to Vincent. It’s impressive how fast my palms start to sweat. I’m not carrying any weapons, but I sure do have a tracker stashed in my bra. He wouldn’t check there…would he? “I have nothing to hide. Search away.” Giving Vincent my back, I raise my arms and allow his goon to pat me down while I glare at him. If he gets the least bit freaky, I’ll kick him in the balls. His hands skate down my sides, then slice between my breasts. It’s not until he steps away that I finally breathe again.
“She’s clean.”
“Yeah, I could have told you that before you manhandled me. Perv,” I hiss at him.
Vincent takes my hand, as if it’s natural for us to be connected, and guides me down a long, marble hallway. I fight not to tug my hand away, knowing I need to buy Logan time. If Vincent senses my discomfort, he doesn’t seem disturbed by it. The farther we walk, the heavier the pit in my stomach becomes. Adjusting my focus away from my pending heart attack, I take in the extravagant paintings on the wall. My brows skyrocket into my hairline when I notice the famous The Last Supper. “That’s not real, is it?” Vincent doesn’t answer me with words, just his devilish smile.
We continue to walk. The hallway finally opens into a gigantic atrium, the ceiling made of stained glass. Beautiful, exotic flowers surround the open area, with a small pond in the center. Off to one side is a bridge leading to the middle of the pond where a wooden table sits. “I hope this is suitable for you. I figured this would be the perfect place for your surprise.”
“Surprise?” I trip over my next step, and Vincent pulls me along, leading us across the bridge while I stare down at the colossal fish swimming in the pond.
“Do you enjoy koi fish?”
“Huh?”
“Koi fish. They are a prized fish breed. In some countries, they’re worth millions.”
I look down again. “Oh…um, they look like overgrown goldfish to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my Atticus. The Japanese take koi breeding very seriously. See, look at that one right there.” He points to one on my right. “The red patches on his back? I found him in the Netherlands. He’s a very rare breed. His reddish-orange pattern represents joy and purity.”
“And how much does one of those cost?”
“One point eight million.”
I stumble again, and Vincent snatches me closer before I trip into the water, smashing a fish. Who in their right mind pays that much for a fish? “Sit.” He pulls out my chair, and I take my seat, scooting it as far from his million-dollar show pets as I can. “I must admit, the reflection from all the greenery glows against your skin. May I ask where you’re from?”
He catches me off guard with his personal grab for information. I wrap my arms around myself, brushing my hands up and down my biceps. “Like, where I grew up?”
“Where you crawled out of before you showed up pretending to be Logan Justice’s girlfriend?”
The change in him activates my panic button, but I quickly mask it by placing a calm smile across my face. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”
He startles me by reaching over the table and capturing my wrist. I try to pull away, but he doesn’t allow it. “Who the fuck are you, Miss Finch?” His sinister tone shatters another layer of my self-confidence. My throat starts to tighten, and I struggle to swallow down the unease building inside me. My fear starts to eat away at me. I don’t remember ever telling him my last name.
I inhale a deep, slow breath. “Vincent, I’m not sure what you’re asking. Again, I’m not feeling well and would really like to go home.” I fight to conceal my distress. His question is cold and patronizing. He knows something, but I refuse to show my cards just yet.
He releases my wrist and sits back. “Before the surprise? What’s the fun in that?”
“What surprise?” The slip in my trembling voice reveals my unease. He raises his hand, and just the mere flicker of his fingertips sends me into a deeper spiral of hysteria. His calm, collected manner sends a chill down to my toes, and the color drains from my face when Chino walks across the bridge, stopping next to Vincent.
His malicious sneer rattles me to my core. “I just love how we keep meeting like this.”
I shoot up from my seat, only to be slammed back down by a goon standing behind me. Vincent crosses his legs. “I was given the most interesting information moments ago. Any idea what it could have been?”
“That your henchman is a psychopath?”
Chino releases another evil laugh.
“You think it’s funny—that you shot an innocent girl right in front of me?” I glare back with a sneer, my own hatred growing.
“Ahhh…” Vincent unfolds his legs. “I assume that was Francesca Vaughn. It’s good to hear he finally got rid of that unfinished business.”
What? “But wait! Did he also mention he tried to rape me—?”
Vincent’s fists slam onto the table, and I jump, my knees banging against the bottom. “Please, do enlighten me, Miss Finch.” He takes a file Chino hands him. The goon behind me reaches forward and captures my wrist. Before I can attempt to free myself, he has my hand slammed against the table and a giant knife poised onto the top of my wrist. “What did you think you would accomplish? You would charm me into telling you all my secrets then run back to your little magazine and expose me?”
I use the last of my willpower to even out my breathing. “No—”
“Or even better—the police?”
The tension in the room becomes so thick, it’s impossible to breathe. My stomach lurches. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Do you think you’re the first person to try something so foolish?”
“Chino will tell you anything to get me away from you.” The lies churn like acid in my stomach. Chino laughs, and my dread thickens.
Vincent leans forward. “Word for word, how did he touch you?” My unease gets dowsed in gasoline, sparking a fire throughout my entire chest. My brain tells me to run, but my feet feel like they’re frozen to the ground. How could I have thought this would turn out any other way? The goon behind me nudges his elbow into my back, and I sputter out, “He—threw me to the ground…”
Images of him on top of me, his filthy hands…feeling so helpless as his heavy weight caged me down. “He told me he wanted to see what was so special about me. Ruin me for Logan. He knew he wasn’t supposed to touch me, but he was going to make me hurt—take what you wanted—destroy me before you co
uld have me.” I slowly raise my free hand to wipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks.
Chino takes a step toward me. “Oh, baby, you know you wanted—”
“You piece of scum!” I scream out and stand, two hands shoving me back in my seat. I thrash against my restraints, my composure slipping. “Let me go!”
“Now, now, Miss Finch, no need to get upset.” My eyes shoot to Vincent sitting leisurely in his chair. “You had to have known this was your fate, thinking you would come into my world and attempt to disrupt my empire.”
“No! He’s—” Vincent nods, and I howl in pain as the sharpness of the knife digs into my skin. His heavy gaze suddenly becomes colder and void of any emotion. My lips tremble, but I fight down my panic and take an unsteady breath. “Please, just listen to me—”
“Enough!” He slams his fist against the table again, and I swear I pee my pants a little. My heart rate spikes to an unhealthy rate. I worry I’m going to pass out. He taps his fingertips against the table, and with each thump, it snubs more oxygen from my lungs.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“What do you want from me?”
He tosses the papers at me, and they scatter across the table, falling into my lap.
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…
Shots of me walking into Celebrity Dirt. My apartment. Me running into the police station.
He leans back in his chair, reaching for a shot of me running into the police station. My eyes search the room, praying an escape exit magically appears. Who the heck knows how far I’ll get, but I can’t just sit here, waiting for my execution. “You see, Miss Finch, the first thing I noticed about you is your intelligence. You have a way of reading people, just like I do—which means you already know what’s going to happen.”
I fight the sudden dizziness and urge to vomit. “I’m not really sure I know what that is…” Death, execution, fish food. Oh god, I’m going to die. “Vincent, listen, this is a simple mistake. You don’t need to do this,” I plead, finally exposing my cards.
“Oh, how I do love listening to you beg. It’s quite thrilling. I imagine you would be perfect tied up and under me, the sound of your cries like music to my ears as I devour every single inch of you.” I gag, fighting not to be sick. “Don’t fret. We’re past that.” He waves his fingers to another silhouette standing in the entryway, and the seconds weigh on me like an eternity until I hear the clicking of shoes entering the room. “I am curious how you tricked Justice, though. For someone so sharp, he never suspected you to be a conniving little bitch.”
What? “I’m not—” Fingers grip into my hair and yank my head back. A dreadful gasp leaves my lips as the goon extends my neck and places the knife across my throat.
“If there is one thing I hate more than liars, it’s fucking scheming weasels. I should cut your throat right now. Such a thrill it would be watching you bleed out, struggling to take your last scheming breath.” Tears shed in panicked waves down my face. “Maybe I should bring your boyfriend back so he can hear what you’ve been up to. Think he would save you? Slice your throat himself?”
There’s no more hiding my distress as the walls around me cave in. I can’t breathe. “Vincent, please—”
“Hello, Miss Finch. A pleasure to see you again.” My head turns to the man walking across the bridge. Renaldo Valdez. “Don’t be scared. You and I are about to become very well-acquainted.”
“I may not care for liars, but Renaldo can’t get enough of them. Says they are the best to train. The most fun to break.” I shoot up my chair, only to get tossed back down once more.
“Vincent, please don’t,” I beg.
“No tears, my dear. The deal’s already done.” He turns his attention to Renaldo. “Where are we with the shipment?”
Renaldo adjusts his pristine tie. “Four containers have been delivered to Iroquois Landing. Unfortunately, three containers are unaccounted for.”
I peer over at Vincent, who appears displeased by this news—news he already knows since he’s the one who intercepted Renaldo’s shipment. “Our deal was seven containers, not four. I have clients waiting for their merchandise. Merchandise I was guaranteed.”
“Yes, and you will get it. My men are working on it. I hope this doesn’t affect our arrangement?” he asks, his beady eyes falling on me.
My head whips to Vincent. “What does he mean?” His sick smile gives me the only answer I need. He just sold me to the highest bidder. “No!” I fight my captive’s hold. “Vincent, no!” My chest constricts, and panic explodes throughout my body.
Ignoring my pleas, Vincent stands and adjusts his suitcoat. “Get her out of my sight.” He turns to Chino. “Confirm the landing is secured. Once the girls have been dispersed, make sure those containers leave no trace. Any hiccups, and it’s your life.” Then he directs his attention to me. “Good day, Miss Finch.”
Adrenaline blasts through me like a rocket. I throw myself from my chair and dig my heel into the ground to free myself when my legs are swooped from under me. I free-fall, landing in the pond. A large hand shoves against my head, pushing me under. The second my face is submerged under water, I slip back into the traumatic childhood memory. The rocking of the small boat. Falling overboard. My lungs flooding with frigid water as I sunk deeper and deeper.
I freeze up, unable to fight as a boot is shoved against my back. The memory is too real. It’s cold. I open my eyes, only to see darkness. An anchor is chained around my conscious and I can’t break away from that day. The suffocating. My mouth opens, and I choke on a mouthful of water. My back spasms as I struggle to get oxygen into my lungs. Fight, Addy. Fight!
I force my arms to start to move and kick out with my legs. I make contact with a hard surface, and the force holding me down disappears. My head shoots up, and I choke out, coughing and gasping for air.
Sensing someone behind me, I flip onto my back to protect myself. Renaldo leans down and extends his hand. “Please, let me help you up—”
“Don’t touch me!” I cry, scooting back. I slam into a fish, squirming at my back as try to get free. Renaldo appears bored by my outburst.
“You can take my hand, or my friend Miguel here can rip you out by your hair. Either way, I’m not going to offer again.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He waves his hand. “Put her with the rest of the girls. Make sure there’s no trace she was here.” He turns his back to me and walks toward the hallway. Miguel comes at me, and no matter how hard I scream and kick, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I can’t allow him to take me out of this house. If I do, I’m as good as dead.
“Put me down, you oaf!” I bang my fists on his back. Claw my nails into his skin. I even try to bite him, but he’s indestructible. “Help! Somebody help—”
The lights in the hallway flicker, and we’re plunged into darkness. A commotion from the end of the hallway breaks out.
“What’s going on?” I hear Renaldo in the distance.
Vincent reappears, storming up to Miguel, and grabs a fist full of my hair. He tugs me forward, and I fall, my shoulder a brace as I slam into the marble tile. Bending down, he relatches onto a chunk of my hair, and I scream out in agony. His hot breath fans against my cheek. “You fucking bitch. How dare you think to double-cross me?”
I howl out at the pain radiating from my scalp. I try to slap his hands away, but his grip only tightens as he drags me behind him by my hair.
“Vincent, what the hell is going on?” Renaldo demands.
“It seems this little bitch has been working with the police.”
Shock spreads across Renaldo’s face. “She’s a fucking narc?”
I scream out as he heaves me forward. My forehead hits the surface, and stars blind my vision. Before I’m able to see clearly, I miss the chance to protect myself when Vincent’s dress shoe slams into my ribs.
“You little cunt. You have truly
messed with the wrong man.” Vincent spits in my face. Renaldo is at his side, his seething eyes demanding answers.
Unable to mask the displeasure from his gritty frown, Vincent swipes a hand down his face. “My security just notified me the house is surrounded. Men in DEA uniforms. They’ve cut the power and disabled my cameras.”
“You told me there would be no issues.”
“That was before I realized she was working with the cops. We need to go. We’ll leave out the west wing on my private helicopter. They won’t get inside the premises in time to stop us.” Turning to his goon, Vincent thrusts his chin toward me. “Kill her.”
They both hurry past me, and his man pulls a gun from his back and points it directly between my eyes. “Wait! He’s the one who robbed you!” I yell out, either buying myself more time or eating a bullet faster. Renaldo stalls in his step and turns back around. “Vincent hijacked your shipment in Florida.”
Renaldo’s hard stare whips to Vincent. He waves me off. “Don’t listen to her. Let’s go—”
“He never planned on going into business with you—just to steal yours. Your three missing containers are being rerouted by freight train right under your nose.” Uncertainty shines in his penetrating gaze. The doubt grows brighter as he rips his eyes from me to stare at Vincent.
“Shut your babbling mouth, you lying bitch.”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” Renaldo turns toward Vincent, his shoulders squared.
“You’re not listening to this nonsense, are you? We’re wasting time.” Vincent turns to walk away.
“I’m not lying. You shoot me, and you’ll never know where your three containers are. I know where he has them going. I’ll tell you everything—”
“Shut up.” Vincent turns around, pulling his gun from his back and pointing it at me.
Just as quickly, Renaldo reaches for his gun and aims it at Vincent. “I think she should continue.”
Thank god. I blow out a quiet breath. If I can get Renaldo on my side, I can convince him letting me go is his best option of making it out of this alive. “He plans on killing you.”
Celebrity Dirt: A Fake Relationship Romantic Suspense Standalone Page 17
