by K. A. Ware
“Are you sure? You’d have to audition. We’ll need you to get us a count of how many are in the club and you’ll have to get us in through the back entrance. I doubt you’ll be left alone long enough to do that before the audition so you’ll have to gain access by actually getting hired on.”
“Pfft, that’s easy. I’ve been taking pole-dancing classes for the past three years. I’ve got this.”
“What the fuck?” Enzo growled next to her, his face turning a strange shade of reddish purple.
“What? Lots of women do it nowadays. It’s an awesome core workout,” she looked truly perplexed by his anger at her preferred form of exercise.
“You can’t be a stripper.”
“Wait, are you saying I’m not hot enough to be a stripper?” she asked her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.
“What, no, I just, shit!” he floundered, there was no way he was coming back from that one. It was almost funny watching him try to find the right answer to the question, finally resigning to the fact that he lost that round.
“Perfect,” I said quickly before anyone else could protest, “Frankie will go in and audition tomorrow. Ivan said the auditions were at seven and the club opens at nine. The question is, do we go in before it opens or after?” I asked pulling out a copy of the layout I had Frankie print out before we left the estate, smoothing it out on the coffee table.
“If we go in before the place opens we run the risk of getting caught without an excuse before we get to Carlo. We should wait until the club opens. At least that way if we run into someone we can explain ourselves without drawing too much attention.” Antonio spoke up.
“But the possibility of civilian casualties increases tenfold if we go in when it’s open.” Enzo reminded us.
“Enzo’s right, I’m not willing to risk more attention by getting an innocent bystander mixed up in this. We go in after Frankie auditions and before the club opens. From what I can tell, this is the dressing room here,” I said pointing to the room on the blue prints. “There’s an entrance just outside of it that leads to the side alleyway. That’s where Frankie will let our men in. My best guess would be that they’re holding Carlo in the basement. It’s the only space other than the office that isn’t used for the business.”
“Here, let me see that,” Antonio said reaching over to pull the paper towards him. “There’s a hallway right here. It looks like that will lead to the stairs down to the basement.”
Over the next hour we hashed out our plan. Sal would provide a distraction at the front entrance hopefully diverting the attention of the security team while Frankie sneaked Angelo, Antonio and myself in the back entrance. Enzo, Matteo, and Leo would stay back in the car with Mouse. As soon as she let us in, Frankie would go down to where Mouse and the others would be parked and wait for us. Once we confirmed we had Carlo they would meet us at the entry of the alleyway.
“She needs a fake ID,” Angelo said, “I’m sure that Ivan’s business isn’t on the up and up but she looks underage and they might ask for it.”
“Mouse can handle that,” I responded off handedly.
“He’s just going to whip up an ID? They have holograms now, it’s not that simple,” Frankie said.
I laughed, “That’s how Gina and I met Mouse. He makes the best IDs. That’s how he was able to get away without getting a job while we were in college,” I said offhandedly. It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized I had just brought up Gina in front of her parents. I looked over at Michael and Pauline. His head was down but she was smiling softly at me, tears glistening in her eyes. Sadness washed over me. These were good people, they didn’t deserve to lose their daughter like that. Pauline cleared her throat, breaking the silence before I had a chance to wallow in my guilt.
“Okay, so tomorrow we’ll take Frankie to the salon and shopping while the guys get everything else set up,” she said smiling brightly.
I just stared at her like she had grown another head. How the fuck could she think of shopping at a time like this?
She rolled her eyes, “For such a smart girl, sometimes…” She trailed off shaking her head, “Did either of you bring clothes fit for an exotic dancer?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
I blinked a few times and glanced at Frankie, “Don’t look at me, I didn’t even pack a bag,” she said.
“That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, I know a place we can go to get an outfit and shoes. We’ll go to the salon and get you waxed and your nails done and probably a blowout. I’ll do your makeup when we get back,” she said simply. I was still stuck on the fact that she knew a place to buy a stripper outfit. She must have read my thoughts on my face because she sighed and gave me a condescending look, “I wasn’t always a wife and mother, Mia. I was young once too so stop giving me that look.”
“Sorry,” I rushed to apologize. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We can go over this again in the morning,” I said standing up and stretching out my back. The men followed suit and Pauline ushered everyone to their rooms.
I was exhausted but as I lay in bed that night I couldn’t get my brain to turn off. I kept running through the events of the day over and over. There wasn’t anything myself or anyone else could have done differently to change the outcome. I turned onto my back and stared at my ring, reflecting the moonlight coming in through the window, casting little beams of light across the ceiling. Glancing over to the nightstand, the clock read 2:37 am. I realized I had been separated from Carlo for just shy of fourteen hours and each moment felt worse than the last. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sent up a prayer that our plan would work and in less than twenty-four hours I would have him back.
Chapter 51
Carlo
Ivan had left shortly after our confrontation, although he did it reluctantly. One of his men came into the room and whispered something in his ear when he was taking a break from beating me. He left with the promise that he would be back to finish the job.
The music I’d heard when I first woke up had stopped hours ago, at least I thought it was hours ago. I was still having a hard time trying to gauge the passing time. My best guess was that it was sometime in the early morning. I tongued my split lip, and tried to adjust myself on the chair to a less uncomfortable position. My ribs and head were killing me, but they were just superficial wounds. I’d had worse.
I just hoped Ivan stayed away long enough for someone to find me. The exhaustion was starting to wear on me. I was only able to nod off for a few minutes at a time, the pain and position didn’t allow me to stay that way for long. I was tied to a metal chair, each of my legs bound to the legs of the chair and my hands were tied behind me and to the bottom of the backrest.
My arms were immobilized at tailbone level which caused my shoulders to be pulled at an odd angle, and after hours in the same position every muscle in my back was screaming in agony. Flexing my wrists, I smiled when I felt the slackened rope. Since Ivan left I had been working at my bindings, twisting and pulling, trying to loosen them any way I could think of. I finally had feeling back in my hands and feet so I was a little more comfortable than I had been.
My suspicions about the time of day were confirmed when Ivan waltzed in the door, “Good morning, I trust you slept like shit?” he asked, going through the same motions he had the day before with his suit jacket and shirt. I almost scoffed at his slight accent. Ivan had worked hard over the years to lesson his Russian accent in an attempt to sound more educated. Ivan was a proud man, he kept up with appearances, despite his seedy businesses. It was pointless. Everyone who dealt with him knew him for the thug he was, and no amount of refining could change that.
I just glared at him.
“Shall we pick up where we left off?” he continued, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket and slipping them on.
“What? You’re not man enough to hit me and make it hurt? You’re pathetic,” I sneered at him and spit at his feet. A couple blows with the knuckles to my already bro
ken ribs could puncture a lung and kill me a hell of a lot faster than I’m sure he wanted to. I needed to buy as much time as I could so my men could get to me.
“You motherfucker!” he screamed, but removed the knuckles before stalking over to me. He pulled back and swung his fist, connecting with my jaw with a loud crack. Dark spots disrupted my vision. I blinked them away just as he landed a second blow to my gut causing me to double over, at least as far as I could with my wrists still bound behind my back.
“Tell me how to get to her!” he screamed an inch away from my face. I smirked as I noticed his accent got thicker with his temper.
“Fuck. You.” I could feel the blood dribbling down my chin as I spoke. “I’m done playing with the hired help, Ivan. I want to talk to your father, where is he?”
He laughed, manically, “He’s gone. Your little bitch took both of them away from me.” He must have seen the confusion cross my face because he continued, “My father was the one that found Boris. Just the sight of what your cunt whore did to him caused him to keel over of a heart attack!” He produced a knife from an ankle holster and circled me once. I tried to brace myself for whatever he planned to do next but the pain was too much and when he stabbed the knife into my left thigh all the way to the hilt I screamed out in agony. That sick smirk stretched across his face again, “That’s the reaction I’m looking for. Now the real fun can begin.” He said pulling the knife from my leg and causing me to scream out again.
“I am going to do to you exactly what she did to him.” With a snap of his fingers the bald man who had been guarding the door walked in with a canister of salt. Ivan took it from him and poured it over the wound on my thigh. The burning was incredible and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep from crying out. He repeated the process over and over with shallow cuts over every inch of exposed skin he could find.
Once he was finished, he pulled out a cigar from his discarded jacket and settled against the sink in the corner of the room, admiring his handiwork. The puffs of smoke billowed around his head as he lit the cigar. After a few minutes he pushed off the sink and slowly paced toward me, a glimmer of sick pleasure in his eye.
“You know, eventually you are going to tell me how to get to the girl. You could save me a lot of time and yourself a lot of pain if you just tell me now.”
I stayed silent, nothing I said would do any good at this point. No matter what he did, no matter what kind of sick torture he dreamed up, nothing would compare to the immeasurable pain it would cause me if I were the reason Mia was harmed in any way. The worst thing you could do to someone is hurt the person they love most. I knew that from personal experience, using that little fact to my advantage countless times.
After my mother died I vowed that I would never form another relationship like that, that I would never allow anyone to burrow their way that deep into my heart. Some part of me knew though, the first time I looked into Mia’s eyes, that she would be the one to break down those walls and force me to feel again. I still wasn’t quite sure how she did it, but throughout the years she chipped away at my cold exterior, making me laugh and smile again, bringing light into my dark world.
The sharp burn of Ivan’s cigar to my chest broke me from my reverie. The searing pain didn’t subside when he lifted it from my skin. Instead it continued to scald and fester as the ash mixed with my blood and scorched flesh. I didn’t cry out or scream this time, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He got little more than a grunt from me as he continued to pepper my skin with thick circular blisters.
I counted twenty-two stings before I passed out, a combination of pain and exhaustion pulling me into darkness.
Chapter 52
Mia
I walked into the kitchen the next morning showered, dressed and in search of coffee. I hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake yet so I was surprised to find Pauline leaning against the counter sipping a cup of coffee. She smiled at me when I entered the room like she had been waiting for me.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said, more like not at all. The clock on the coffee pot read 6:30 am.
“Me either. Have a seat I’ll make you a cup,” she motioned for me to sit across from her at one of the barstools. I complied and waited for her to continue. I’d been around Pauline enough over the years to know when she was gearing up for one of her ‘talks’. “Sweetheart, you know we love you like you’re our own, right?” she asked as she poured some creamer into a mug.
“Of course,” I said, wondering where she was going with this.
“And you know we only want what’s best for you, yeah?”
“Yes?” I drew out the word like a question. She was starting to scare me.
“I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” My mouth dropped open. I had never heard Pauline swear. She was the kind of woman that would say fiddle sticks before she dropped an f-bomb. Noticing my expression she laughed, “Oh please. You’re an adult now, you can handle my swearing.”
“I guess, it’s just weird is all.”
She laughed again, “You’ll understand when you have children. It took a long time after having Gina to kick my dirty mouth. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” She set the cup of coffee in front of me and continued, “I want to talk about that,” she said, pointing at the ring on my finger.
I looked down at my hand unable to keep the smile from my face, “What about it?”
“I just want to make sure you’re making your decision with a clear head. This is a big step and there are a lot more hurdles to jump when you love a man like Carlo.”
“What do you mean?” I asked confused.
“Well, what about this mess that we’re in the middle of right now? Honey, this isn’t going to be the last time someone tries to hurt you or Carlo and you need to think long and hard about that. Can you handle it if this happens again and again? Is your love going to be strong enough to endure it?”
I sighed and looked down into my coffee, “I know it might happen again, but I love him. I can handle the bad as long as I get the good, you know?”
She smiled widely at me, “That’s what I needed to hear,” she said patting my hand, “If you ever want to talk, I’m just a phone call away, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling lighter than I had before. I didn’t even know I wanted her approval but now that I had it, it felt right. Pauline wasn’t my mother but she was the closest thing I had ever had to one.
…
We arrived back at the house a little after four that afternoon. We’d gone shopping for an outfit for Frankie and to the salon to get her ready for her audition. When we entered the house the men were once again in the front room, this time with Mouse and Sal as well.
“Is everyone caught up to speed?” I asked, instantly slipping into ‘Boss-Lady mode’ as Frankie so affectionately called it.
“Yeah, we’re all ready to go when you guys are,” Antonio said with a nod. I had been unsure of him before but I was starting to warm to him.
“Okay, we’re going to get ready. We’ll leave here at six,” I responded with a nod, following Pauline and Frankie up the stairs.
…
“I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into wearing a slutty school girl costume. I think I just single handedly set feminism back twenty years,” Frankie said trying to tug the skirt down as she stood in front of the mirror. “How the fuck am I going to wear this outfit on the street without getting arrested for indecent exposure?”
“Relax, it’s a means to an end. It’s not the end of the world if you play up the patriarchal fantasy for one night,” I said, “Besides, you don’t go to the club in your costume. You change there. No one is going to see you. At least no one that will be alive in the morning.”
“Oh, okay, that makes a lot more sense,” she turned around to look at me, “How do I look?”
I took a minute to study her, “You look hot,” I said truthfully. Her fire engine red hair was done
in full layers with the ends curled. She had put her foot down when Pauline tried to give her pigtails. Her makeup was heavy but not to the point where she looked like a hooker, maybe just a slutty club girl. The white cap sleeved button down tied just below her breasts. Underneath she had a white bikini top which peeked through the open buttons of the top. For someone as tiny as she was, she had a decent amount of cleavage to work with and filled out the top perfectly. The skirt was about the size of a belt, just barely covering everything in the front, but if she turned around you could see the bottom of her ass cheeks sticking out underneath the material. Knee socks and seven inch Maryjane’s completed the look and brought her five foot nothing frame nearly to eye level.
There was a knock at the door, walking over I opened it. “Hey, what’s up?” I asked in way of greeting.
“I came to tell you…” Angelo trailed off, his eyes locked onto where Frankie was standing behind me. “Oh, shit. Enzo’s going to, fuck, this is not good.”
“Well, he’s just going to have to suck it up,” I said, feigning confidence, “What did you come up here for?”
“Right, everyone is ready to go when you are,” he said, he tried to focus on me but his eyes kept wandering back over my shoulder to Frankie.
Fucking men.
“Okay, we’ll be down in five,” I said shutting the door in his face.
“Hurry up and change before Enzo comes up here,” I ordered as I turned around. “If he catches you looking like before we leave he’ll go ballistic so move your ass!”
Frankie nodded and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and t-shirt, packing her costume up in a duffle bag I handed to her.
I snuck a glance at myself in the mirror. I had opted for skinny jeans, knee high boots, and a long sleeve black thermal top. My gun was tucked into a holster at the back of my waistband, my thin top doing little to conceal it. I had knives tucked into right boot and another small pistol secured in my left. My hair was pulled away from my face in a high ponytail. I looked and felt like I was ready for battle.
