by Vanessa Dare
Anna’s eyes cleared as she grinned. “Everything to you is hot as hell.”
“When it’s you, definitely. Why?” I asked, still enthralled by the amazing change. She looked different. More relaxed.
Anna arched a brow. “Why do I straighten it?”
I nodded, but watched a little twirl of dark hair spring back into place as I gave it a little tug.
“Because it’s out of control. Unruly. I didn’t straighten it now because we’re in a rush. You had me a little too distracted to plan my time.”
I ran a finger down her soft cheek. Leaving her hair curly, instead of ruthlessly attacking it with a straightening thingie—I knew nothing about women’s hair care tools—was a big leap for her. “I don’t want you straightening it anymore. I love it like this. I love it when you’re out of control. I love it when you’re unruly.”
Taking a hair tie from her wrist, she pulled her hair up into a tail and tied it back.
“Don’t,” I said as I watched her fingers run through her curls expertly.
“It’s too hot. Besides, for what’s in store for us, I need it out of my face.”
I conceded because she was right, but I thought about how it was going to look later spread across her pillow as I made love to her. Again and again.
***
Just before eight, we took the back exit out of Anna’s building. It led to an alley used by trash trucks and other service vehicles supporting the neighboring buildings. It was still hot, the temperature hovering near ninety. The smell of rotting garbage and exhaust wafted down the pavement.
Before I had a chance to scope my surroundings—if I was going to admit it, I was focused too much on Anna to recognize danger—it was too late. I didn’t see the men waiting for us. Before I could react, a cloth bag was pushed down over my head, darkness overwhelming me. Before I could lift my arms to grab at it, my wrists were yanked behind my back. Flailing out, trying to avoid being tied up, I hit the guy in the midsection with my elbow. It didn’t do enough damage to stop him and he was able to zip tie my wrists, tight enough where I couldn’t pull them free.
“Grif!” Anna screamed, her voice panicked. I knew, she too, had been caught off guard. Turning my head, I tried to see something, anything. The fabric was rough, coarse, so some light filtered through. It was snug though and the mustiness of the material made it hard to breathe.
“Don’t fucking hurt her,” I shouted fiercely, continuing to struggle.
There had to be at least two men, perhaps more. One to cover our heads, another to zip tie the wrists. This had been a complete ambush; I’d been expecting Adam to take us somewhere to a staged shooting. It was hard to remember this was fake—at least I hoped it was—but I called out to Anna anyway. “Are you okay?”
When she didn’t answer, I started to panic. “Anna! Answer me,” I shouted.
I heard a guy’s muffled grunt, then shuffling. “Grif, Grif!” Anna shouted.
Thank God. I heard a car approach, stop directly in front of us. I could feel the air stir on my arms. A door opened, I heard the trunk pop. I was shoved from behind. Without anything to stop me, I fell face first. There was no time to panic as my face smashed against rough carpeting inside of the car. The trunk. My legs were lifted and tossed in so I was folded in half, uncomfortable in the confined space.
“Get off me!” Anna shouted, then she was dropped in next to me, the lid slammed shut. Any light through the cloth hood was gone. Car doors closed, the engine revved and we were moving.
“Grif,” Anna breathed. I could hear panic in her voice. “This sucks.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Instead of crying out in hysterics, she had to give her feelings on the situation.
“I don’t like it either, love. Are you comfortable enough?” I wasn’t. We were shoehorned in, Anna’s head down by my feet. Her knee was pushed into my shoulder. It was tight, claustrophobic. Without any light and my hands tied behind my back, the space closed in around me. The temperature was rising quickly and I heard Anna taking big gulps of air. I was sweating now, the bag on my head clinging to my skin.
“Not really, but I’m okay. Where do you think we’re going?”
“I have no idea. Just remain calm, try not to panic and remember this isn’t real,” I said into the darkness.
“Moretti’s not here, so why do we have to go through this?”
“I’ve done this before. They have to make it look real. In this day and age, proof comes in the form of video. Not just pictures.”
We didn’t get a chance to talk longer because the car came to a stop and I heard a garage door opening. The car moved slowly, the garage door closing once again.
“Remember, no matter what happens, everything’s going to be okay,” I reminded her.
The trunk opened. Light filtered through my hood and I could feel the cool air pour in.
“I love you,” I murmured.
Men laughed. “I love you,” they mimicked together in a high-pitched voice. “Hey, Vince, he’s so romantic.”
“Up we go,” another voice said, possibly Vince. I heard Anna being hoisted out just before a meaty hand grabbed me under my arm and pulled me to my feet. It was difficult to stand, to get my legs beneath me without being able to see. As if someone read my mind, the bag was yanked off.
Blinking, I looked for Anna. They’d pulled the bag from her head as well, her hair a wild mess about her face. Her hands were tied behind her back and she was sweaty and unnerved, but calm. Her white tank top was smudged with dirt in several places and her pants had a small rip in the thigh.
There were three men. They were large, beefy, wielding very realistic-looking guns and serious faces. They, too, were sweating in their long pants and shirts. No one could escape the heat.
We were in some kind of dingy warehouse, cavernously large and mostly empty. A few wooden shipping crates were stacked along one wall. Small windows, caked with dirt, were high up by the ceiling, letting in what was left of the daylight. The space was lit by old single-watt bulbs hanging sporadically through the space, casting eerie shadows and pockets of darkness.
“This way,” Asshole One said, waving his gun in the direction he wanted us to go.
Anna watched me, unsure of what to do. I didn’t move, and received a shove on the shoulder to get me going. As we walked deeper into the warehouse, I could see it was actually L-shaped, bright light coming from around the corner. We were led that way. Clenching my fists, I tried to get blood flow back, the tingles from ten minutes ago were gone and now my hands were completely numb.
A construction light on a bright yellow tripod, used to brighten indoor projects like hanging drywall or running electrical wire, spotlighted a large patch of the dirty concrete floor. An old metal chair, perhaps part of a dining set from the ’50s sat in the center of the lit space. I was led to it, pushed down onto it so my arms were fitted over the seat back. My shoulders were wrenched painfully and I had to lean forward slightly to take the pressure off.
Beefy Guy leaned down so his face was in line with mine. “As you’ve probably figured out, we’re planning on killing you.” He grinned, like this was the highlight of his day. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with the lady first.”
What the fuck? No one said anything about rape. This was not how this was supposed to go down.
“No!” screamed Anna. I couldn’t see much more than a sliver of her body around the fucker’s face. But what I did see made me want to kill. The bastard shoved Anna down onto her knees in the filth. She resisted, so he slapped her. Hard.
These weren’t Uncle Frank’s boys. This wasn’t a game. Shit. This was way too fucking real.
“Moretti.” His name left my lips, half curse, half rage. Leaning forward, I tried to head-butt the man in front of me but he was just out of reach. All I got for my actions was intense pain in my shoulder and a laugh from Beefy Guy.
“I’ll move out of the way so you can watch. Don’t worry, you won’t miss
any of it. You’ve got a front-row seat.”
Anna looked up at me through her lashes, bent forward so her head was on the ground, her knees tucked up underneath her. She was crying, her lip bleeding, her eyes pleading with me to help. Sheer terror blanketed her every breath. What could I do? Three men. Guns. This was supposed to be fake. Asshole Two sported a hard-on I couldn’t miss through his pants. That was not fake. Shit. Shit!
The one who’d remained quiet up until now pushed Anna over and tried to maneuver her onto her back. Her arms were in the way so she only made it onto her side. Kneeling down in front of her, it was obvious Asshole Two was going to be the first, since his dick was hard. He even started working on his belt.
Anger and helplessness overwhelmed me. I tried to stand, actually got to my feet with the chair wedged beneath my arms, but I was bent over, the chair seat across the back of my thighs. I couldn’t walk, couldn’t get to her.
“Hey there. Can’t have you going anywhere and missing the fun.” Beefy Guy came over and knocked me down, forced me to fall sideways onto my shoulder and hip. The loud clang of the metal chair hitting the concrete echoed through the cavernous warehouse. My head whiplashed onto the concrete floor with a crack and I saw stars.
Blinking, I tried to stay conscious, the pain overwhelming and sharp like a knife to the skull. I couldn’t do anything to help Anna if I was knocked out. Hell, I couldn’t do anything for her trussed up like I was.
“Who the hell are you guys?” I asked, breathing heavily. My voice shot zings of pain across my scalp and I winced. Moretti’s men were going to rape Anna before they shot her. Jesus, this was completely fucked up. “Where’s Moretti?”
Beefy Guy turned to look at me. “Who the hell’s Moretti?”
Holy shit. Who were these men? Why had they grabbed us? Were they Moretti’s guys? I didn’t recognize any of them, but then again Moretti would contract out this hit. From the blank look on his face, he didn’t have a clue who Moretti was. Carmichael’s men would at least know the name. So, if they didn’t work for Moretti, or Carmichael, who the hell were they? Jesus, we were in trouble. Where was Carmichael? Where the fuck were the police?
“No. Get away from me,” Anna growled at Asshole Two who loomed over her, belt undone. She pulled her knees back and kicked the guy in the belly, an angry growl ripping from her throat, knocking him back on his ass. She turned onto her side completely, then onto her knees, facing away from me. Her hair was completely snarled, her tank top and arms black with grime and dirt. She struggled to stand, but with her arms behind her, it was futile.
Beefy Guy and Asshole One laughed at their friend, who was sucking wind and looking up at the ceiling. Pride washed over me, knowing Anna was going to give as good as it got.
“Oh, you want it this way instead?” Asshole One asked. This one was smarter, going in on her quickly, not giving her room to defend herself. “I like it from behind, too.” He grabbed her around the middle and pulled her up onto her knees, pushed her head to the ground. He was fumbling between them and she squirmed and struggled.
Knowing Anna was going to be raped with nothing for me to do but watch it happen was ripping me open inside. My wrists pulled and tugged at the plastic restraint, but it wouldn’t give. I felt wetness drip down my fingers. I’d cut my skin wide open, but I couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything but the pain in my skull and rage. Pure, uncut rage.
“No. I won’t let you,” Anna said, fighting for breath.
Sitting back on his haunches, the guy pulled a gun that he’d had tucked into the waistband at the back of his pants, this one with a silencer. Holy. Fucking. Shit. He brought it around behind Anna’s head.
“No!” I shouted, struggling futilely even more against my bonds. I was dripping in sweat, some of it trickling into my eyes, making them sting. It was coming down to this moment. Right now. He held the weapon execution style. He was going to kill Anna. There was no question of his intent. I couldn’t help her. Couldn’t save her.
“Let her go! Shoot me instead,” I called out. Shoot me. If they killed her, I was as good as dead anyway.
“No!” Anna screamed. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Ah, isn’t that sweet. They both want to save each other,” Asshole One said, waving his gun back and forth between us. At least he’d pulled it away from Anna’s head, for the moment.
Beefy Guy squatted in front of me, his knees cracking on the way down. “Shut up.”
I shook my head and nausea overwhelmed me. “No way, you fucker.”
He pinched off my nose in a tight grip, making me open my mouth to suck in some air. He pulled a rag from his pocket and shoved it in my mouth, let me go.
My head fell against the hard ground as I breathed in through my nose. Panic flared at how hard it was to get in air. I wanted to focus on helping Anna but my survival instincts kicked in and I tried to calm my heart, my breath.
I just lay there and watched as Asshole One moved the gun away from the back of Anna’s head. Her whole body shook. He wrapped his arm around her. He fiddled with her pants as she cried out and fought with him once again. She even got a head butt in, this time well placed because blood poured from his nose, dripping onto the back of her shirt.
“That’s it, bitch. You’re not worth it.” With his gun arm still around Anna’s waist, he fired. I recognized the muffled sound of the silencer.
Holy fuck! No! I cried out through my gag, squirming. Struggling against my bonds, I watched Anna fall to her side. Asshole One struggled to stand, one hand on his nose, trying to stop the bleeding, the other still holding the gun. Blood coated the side of his weapon and the sleeve of his shirt.
Anna’s blood.
I cried out against my gag. Anna lay there on her side, unmoving. Her back was to me so I couldn’t see her face, but her whole body was slack, her hair a tangled mess about her head. Her fingers weren’t moving. She was no longer struggling.
Everything I did came down to this moment. Time in the military, the police department, undercover, even my marriage to Nadine. I’d learned what mattered, what was important in life by what I’d been missing. I hadn’t realized what that was until Anna. She’d changed my focus on life. On what was important. The reason for doing all that stupid shit was to get to her. She’d been out there, moving through life, just like I had. Just coasting, as if in neutral gear. Then, in one moment at a wedding reception, when she’d placed her hand in mine, my life shifted into high gear. I wanted more. I wanted it all. I wanted her.
Her. Anna. Alive and breathing. Not motionless, lifeless.
Bucking, I tried to shimmy my body across the floor to her, but it was no use. Lying on my side, I couldn’t get any traction and I couldn’t get enough air to continue, my breaths coming in short pants. I was beginning to black out, the signs familiar. Darkness around the edges, little white spots floating and moving. Anna! Fuck, Anna.
Beefy Guy knelt down, laughed at me. He came in so close I could smell his cologne, see the salt-and-pepper color of his short hair. “Your turn,” he said as he flashed me his gun. He leaned in closer, placed one hand on the ground in front of me for balance. “Any last requests?”
I made noises against my gag.
“What’s that?” he asked, maneuvering in so he was by my ear. Subtly, he slid something against my belly, tucked it beneath my shirt. It felt cool, like plastic. Not too big. Directly after, he pulled the cloth from my mouth.
“Fuck. You,” I told him, breathing deeply, gulping in the air for my burning lungs. I struggled again, trying to process what he’d placed against my belly.
He stood and stepped back. Laughed. “So be it.”
Pointing his gun at me, I looked down the barrel. There was none. It was a fake.
Bang.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anna
I didn’t move. I was too afraid to even breathe. One minute I thought I was going to be raped, then killed, the next I knew—finally—I was part of an elaborate ruse. Fo
r a stretch there I questioned who these men were. Had we been found by Moretti? Had he moved up his death day to Sunday? The people who said your life flashes before your eyes right before you die were right. Lying in the trunk of the car, I imagined the things I hadn’t done yet. Travelled, made friends, had a lover. Well, before today at least. Then anger boiled in my chest. I realized one day of having sex with Grif wasn’t enough. I wanted a lifetime.
I wanted a damn life.
Grif was hurt, I’d seen it in his eyes before I was shoved onto my hands and knees. When they’d knocked over his chair, he’d hit his head. Hard. He hadn’t been thinking of himself, he’d been thinking of me. Willing to die for me. Yet again. So I’d fought, as best I could with my hands tied behind my back. It hadn’t been enough, wouldn’t have done any good to save either of us if it really had been Moretti. It made me realize how close we’d come to dying if Grif hadn’t come up with this plan. I had no doubt Moretti’s man had similarly gruesome plans made for us.
Too bad. We were already dead.
So I just lay there, listening as the men shut off the industrial light, walked away, opened the garage door and left. Even after the garage door slid back in place and it was quiet, I still didn’t move. My hands were numb, my shoulder scraped raw. The fake blood oozed thickly down my belly, seeped into my shirt. The concrete was cool against my cheek.
All at once, chaos reigned. The garage door reopened, footfall came our way. The overhead lights came on.
“Hang on and I’ll have your arms free,” someone said over my shoulder. Adam? The plastic restraints were cut and my arms were free, my shoulders screaming in protest. I cried out at the return of blood. I was helped upright. It really was Adam and he was rubbing down my arms. God, he looked good. Anyone looked good right about now.
“Anna!” Grif yelled, his voice frantic.
I whipped around, watched as a man I didn’t recognize helped him to stand. The stranger had a badge attached to a chain around his neck. The cavalry was here.
