The guy from the table edges closer to her through the crowd. He stands behind her, grinding against her ass. She looks back at him with annoyance, then steps away. The guy stands still on the dance floor for a few moments, staring at her, before walking to the bar.
Now I’m watching him. The bartender pours him a couple shots. The guy glances around. He thinks no one’s looking. Wrong, motherfucker.
He takes something out of his pocket, then crushes it up with his fingers, letting it fall in one of the shots. He swirls the liquid around in the shot glass, then heads back to the dance floor, back to Olivia. He offers her the shot. She refuses at first, but her friend encourages her to take it. Olivia snaps her head back, swallowing the shot all at once, then resumes dancing.
A growl rumbles deep in my chest. I imagine barreling onto the dance floor, throwing aside anyone who stands in my way, and splitting this guys head open. I can feel the sensation in my hand, the upward current as my fist makes contact with bone. I can hear the sound of his neck snapping back, and see the dazed look in his eyes before he hits the ground. The knockout is my specialty. I’ve done it hundreds of times to opponents in the ring when I want to end a fight. It’s as easy as breathing air.
But I sit tight. The shit head is doing me a favor. A few minutes after taking the shot, Olivia’s face glazes over. The guy starts dancing with her again, and this time, she doesn’t fight him off. Instead, she collapses against his chest.
The guy looks at Olivia’s friend, who’s too busy dancing with the other guy to notice this rape attempt in progress. With an irritating fucking smirk, the guy slings Olivia’s arm around his shoulders, and walks out of the bar.
I push my way through the frat boys, and get to the exit before they do. I hide behind the side of the building, peeking out. A few moments later, I see the guy dragging Olivia out of the bar. I let him get a few steps away from the doors before I approach him.
I rush towards him like a fucking bull. His eyes melt with fear when he sees me.
“Hey, man. What the fuck’s going on here?” I say.
The guy does his best to look tough, and to stop himself from trembling. “My girlfriend had too much to drink. I’m taking her home.”
I look at Olivia. She’s draped over the side of his body, struggling to keep her eyes open.
I cock my head at the guy. “You’re one sick fuck, you know that? You can’t score pussy on your own, so you have to use drugs. Is that it?”
The guy grits his teeth. “Back off, pal. I’m just trying to get her home.”
“I bet you are,” I say sarcastically.
He tries to step forward. I stop him by clamping my hand around his neck. His eyes go wide with panic.
“Set her down,” I say, calmly. “Nice and easy. And maybe I won’t snap your neck.”
The guy nods frantically. What a fucking coward, giving up so quickly. I loosen my grip, but keep my hand where it is while he slowly lowers Olivia to the ground. She sits on the asphalt, slumping back against a car. Her eyes are sealed shut. She’s out cold.
“I did it,” the guy says between choking gasps. “Let me go.”
He tries to pull my hand away from his neck. I laugh as he realizes how much of a weakling he is. Finally, I let him go. He backs away, gasping. Before he can get his breath, I deliver a knockout punch under his jaw. His head snaps back. His hands fly out, groping the air, before he hits the asphalt.
Fuck, that felt good. I crack my knuckles, stretch my neck, and pick up Olivia. She’s all dead weight. I bend my knees deeply, and hoist her up over my shoulder as I stand. She makes a slight murmur as I carry her to the car, but other than that, she’s still. Her body is soft and warm against me. I can see the appeal of undressing her while she sleeps, and playing with her body, but I’m not a creep like the one currently snoozing in the parking lot.
I lay Olivia in the backseat of my car. Her neck is in a strange position, so I roll up one of the extra T-shirts I keep, and place it under her head like a pillow.
Through all this, she doesn’t move. Her body is limp. She’s completely helpless. While her mind sleeps, she has no idea what’s happening to her. I look at her still face, and guilt starts to creep in.
None of this has to happen to her. I could go back inside, tell her friend what happened, and walk away. Spoiled princess that she is, Olivia doesn’t deserve this. No one does. But did my family deserve my father’s betrayal, and the destruction of our lives? Fuck no.
Being a good guy isn’t going to get me made. It’s not going to get Anthony back either. And I have to admit, while scanning her soft curves, having her locked away, all to myself is an exciting thought.
While she sleeps, I search her pockets. I take her phone and car keys. I’ll need to come back later and park her car where it won’t be noticed. She doesn't budge while I take these liberties with her body. To my credit, I don’t feel her up or anything. But the power I have over her is intoxicating. I watch her blissful face, and think of every mafia daughter that ever whispered behind my back.
I close the door, get in the driver’s seat, and floor it to my place.
Chapter Seven
Olivia
I’m frozen, staring at the massive body of the beast in the doorway. Rapidly, things fall into place. He took me, and locked me away in this room. He’s not going to let me go. The tray he’s holding looks tiny in proportion to the rest of him, like it’s breakfast for a doll.
Breakfast. Food. He’s feeding me. He plans to keep me here for a while.
His eyes are leveled at me, unmoving, exuding intensity. He doesn’t seem to appreciate that I’m a vulnerable woman, scared shitless. I’m not a person in his eyes at all, but an object, a possession. A smell from the tray rises up to my nose, acrid, bitter. It’s a smell I’ve always hated, but the rest of the human race adores.
I take a slow step back into the unfamiliar room. A whisper falls off of my lips.
“You.”
He steps towards me. “Don’t be afraid.”
There’s no compassion in his voice. It’s not a reassurance. It’s an order. I take a shuddering breath, struggling to regain my senses. I shake my head from side to side.
“At the library,” I gasp. “You were going to take me. And you did.”
He gestures to the bed. “Sit down,” he says through his teeth.
I want to ask why, why me, what’s he going to do to me? But my survival instinct overrides my curiosity. I look at his arms, the thick ropes of muscle that extend from his forearms to his mountainous biceps, then to the door he’s no longer blocking. My brain takes quick measurements, and makes an even quicker decision.
I lunge for the door. The tray drops with a clatter. Before my feet hit the floor, his arm shoots out and hooks around my waist. It stops me dead, and forces most of the air out of my lungs. While I struggle to breathe, he looks at me dangling over his arm. His eye muscles twitch. He draws me closer to him, so close I can smell the musk of his skin.
He grits his teeth. “Don’t make this an unpleasant time for yourself.”
I go numb, realizing how thoroughly trapped I am. My stomach expands with air as I step back from his arm. Just do what he says, I tell myself. Obediently, I sit on the bed. Coffee is scattered across the floor. I watch the brown liquid ooze into rivers and tributaries. The smell always brings up a fuzzy memory of my childhood. There was a mug of coffee left on the side table. I was a curious child, and took a sip. It was bitter and cold. I heard my parents voices from their bedroom, loud and angry.
The beast bends to gather the empty mug, plate, and toast, and puts them back on the tray.
“I’ll bring you more food,” he says, standing. “Maybe you can behave yourself when I come back.”
“Please,” I say. He pauses, turning back to me. What had I meant to say? “No coffee.”
His unblinking stare falls on me for a terrifying second. I stop breathing, expecting him to pin me to the bed and do horrible things
to me. But he turns and walks away. He closes the door behind him.
One, two, three, I count, as the heavy locks fall into place.
Chapter Eight
Bruno
I empty the tray into the sink. The plate chips, but I don’t give a fuck. Olivia’s dark brown eyes are burned into my mind. I can’t stop picturing them, those glassy pools looking up at me with a mixture of fear and hope.
After years of violence, I have a hard time seeing other people as anything but bags of flesh, problems that I can punch away. But this is different than winning a fight for a payday, or smashing some guy’s head against the table to make him cough up payments. I have an actual person, a woman at that, locked away in a cage. Humans aren’t meant to be locked up. It would drive anyone crazy. Usually, the only emotion I feel is anger, but Olivia’s bringing up something else.
Stay focused, Beast, I think, popping more bread in the toaster. You have a job to do. Don’t be a fucking pussy about it.
I pound my chest with both fists while jogging in place to work up some adrenaline. It’s something I do before a fight. It helps me focus on the job at hand.
I pick up the coffee mug from the sink. The handle is broken off. The corners of my lips turn up as that familiar fire heats my skin.
Spoiled brat. She’s my captive, and she thinks she can make demands? And who doesn’t like coffee?
I fill the broken mug with tap water, and put it on her tray. But that kind of feels like a dick move. She’s not the enemy, just a bargaining chip. I should treat her as well as I can. And I did snatch her while she was unconscious. The least I can do is walk down to the Italian grocer on the first floor and buy some juice.
*
While unlocking the deadbolts to Olivia’s room, I get a rush of excitement. It’s similar to the kill high I used to get in the early days. It feels so fucking good. My blood tingles in my veins, all the way to my fingertips. I know it has to do with the helpless woman, completely at my mercy, on the other side of this door. I hadn’t planned on taking advantage of her body while she’s here, but I hadn’t ruled it out either. If I do decide to sink between her thighs, it won’t be today. The fight’s tonight.
Olivia sits on the edge of the bed, her spine straight like a rod. She grips the sheets, watching me closely. I think I scared her well enough before, so I trust she won’t try anything now. At least, I hope she doesn’t. If I have to pin her to the bed, I don’t think I could stop myself from going further. I can almost feel her shirt ripping between my hands as I yank it from her body.
I set the tray on the table. Olivia’s eyes flit to the juice, then to me. The corner of her mouth twitches a little, almost in a half smile. It feels good to please her. Maybe I’ll be good at this kidnapping thing after all.
“Eat,” I tell her. I post up against the wall, watching her. I’m going to make sure she eats every bite, and doesn’t try to pull some hunger strike shit. I can’t turn her over to Vince half starved and dehydrated.
Olivia catches my drift. She picks up a piece of toast, and nibbles the corner. While watching her eat, I wish I could tell her that this is only temporary, that once we make the trade, she can go back to her life. But I don’t. It’s in my best interest to keep her scared so she doesn’t try anything crazy.
Olivia turns to me, meeting my eyes. “What’s your name?” she asks. She jerks her head away, like she’s terrified of my response.
I’m silent for a few moments, weighing whether or not I should tell her. But what harm could it do? She’ll know my name anyway when I’m a made man for the Mariano’s.
“Bruno,” I say.
Olivia nods, bringing the toast back to her mouth. “Bruno,” she repeats. “I’m Olivia.”
I don’t say anything to this. I know what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to develop a rapport with me, make me sympathize with her so I’ll let her go. She takes a sip of the apple juice.
“Thanks for the juice,” she says. She pauses, waiting for me to say something, which I don’t. She looks at the ground, and a shudder rolls up her spine, rounding her shoulders. Her big brown eyes are wet.
I look away quickly. I can’t help but sympathize with her. This is a truly fucked up situation. I keep my face hard, not letting this show. Olivia takes a deep breath, then looks right at me. Her eyes have dried up.
“You didn’t rape me,” she says, bluntly.
I turn my eyes on her, dark and cruel, and neither confirm nor deny this.
She looks down at her feet. “I know you didn’t. Because I’d know if you did. I’d be able to feel it.”
That’s right, sweetie, I think. If I fucked you, you’d never be the same.
Olivia swigs the juice. Her face brightens, like it’s giving her energy.
“Are you going to?” she asks in a cold voice.
She grips her knees nervously. I take a step towards her, and she curls into herself. I’m not a sick fuck like Sal, but the power I have over her makes my dick throb. My biceps tense. It would be so easy to throw her on her back and hold her down. I stand over her, making her think that’s what I’m going to do. I’m still for a moment, letting her steep in this fear, letting her know that she’s mine now. She blinks up at me, irrationally calm, like she’s resigned herself to her fate.
It takes a fuckton of willpower not to follow through on my perverse thoughts. My hand goes for my pocket. Her eyes clench shut. She probably thinks I’m about to pull out my dick. Instead, I pull out her phone, the one I snatched from her pocket when she was unconscious.
“Open your eyes,” I order her. She does. I get another little rush at her obedience.
She looks at the phone in my hand. Her eyes squint. I can see her brain working, trying to think of a way out.
I lay out what she’s going to do, holding the phone teasingly in front of her. She keeps her eyes on it like it’s a carrot on a string.
“Text everyone who will miss you. Tell them you’re going to be gone for the next few days. I don’t know, you took an impromptu trip or something. Think of something good.” I hold the phone towards her. She grasps it quickly, but I don’t let go. “Don’t try anything,” I warn. “I’ve got the police in my back pocket. They’ll let me know if someone goes to them. And whoever it is, I’ll track them down, and kill them. Understand?”
Olivia’s face goes pale, any hope she had, dashed. She nods. I let go of the phone.
I sit next to her on the bed, reading everything she types. The first person she texts is her mother. She tells her she’s traveled to San Francisco State to do research at the library there.
I grimace at the screen. She seems to feel my disapproval with a deep shudder that rolls down her back. I grab the phone, but she doesn’t let go.
“Are they really going to believe that?” I ask, searching her face with my eyes. “Wouldn’t it be more believable if you’d hopped a plane to Cabo?” My stomach tightens at the thought of Olivia on a beach in a white bikini, bright next to her olive colored skin.
Olivia looks shocked at this accusation. Her lips twitch into almost a smile. Is she going to laugh at me? She sees the tightness in my face and quickly straightens up.
“Cabo?” she shakes her head. “No, they’d never believe that.”
Is she fucking with me? “You understand the risk, right?” I ask in a low voice. “If anyone starts sniffing around for you, I’ll put them down. Better make sure your story is legit.”
She nods frantically. “I understand,” she says, barely getting the word out. “They’ll believe this. I promise.”
I study her face. Her wide, brown eyes look honest, and her face is pale with fear. She might be spoiled, but she’s not stupid. I decide to trust her, and if it turns out she’s bullshitting me, well, she’ll have to face the consequences. I let go of the phone and nod, telling her to continue. She texts about a dozen more people, then turns the screen off.
“Is that it?” I ask.
She nods. I take the phone from
her and slip it into my pocket. Olivia doesn’t look at me. Her face is numb.
“Why am I here?” she asks.
I scoff. Like she doesn’t fucking know. Like she doesn’t know who her scumbag father is. It doesn’t take a PhD to figure it out.
“That’s enough questions,” I say.
Olivia bites her lip, squeezing her thighs together with urgency. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Chapter Nine
Olivia
Bruno doesn’t let me walk on my own to the bathroom. His hand tightly grips my wrist at all times. It feels like a shackle. I guess it is.
Breathe out tension. Breathe in relaxation.
I don’t know why I think of the chant from the meditation app I used one time, but it seems appropriate. I have to stop freaking out. Since my eyes opened in this strange place, my head’s been racing, my stomach twisted, and my chest tight. That’s why I tried to escape. That was stupid. I know that now. This man is unbelievably powerful, and he doesn’t want to let me go. I can’t make another rash decision. It will only get me in trouble. I need to keep calm and be patient if I’m going to find a way out of here.
It’s a short walk down the hallway to the bathroom at the end. I take a quick glance in the other direction, getting the lay of the land. A left turn out of the bedroom door leads to the bathroom. A right turn leads to the open kitchen and sitting area, and probably the exit.
Bruno stops in front of the bathroom, squeezing my wrist even tighter so I stop too.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asks.
I really do want to take a shower. I feel grimy in these old clothes and I’ve been sweating from panic. Plus, under the flowing water, maybe I can close my eyes and forget where I am for just a second. But I jerk with fear. What if he means to take a shower with me?
If he was planning to assault me in any way, he would’ve done it already. I get the feeling that this isn’t about sex, but something more important to him. But whatever that could be, I have no clue.
Deciding to the take the chance, I nod. Bruno opens a narrow door in the hallway. Inside are stacks of folded towels and linen. The normalcy of it all strikes me as absurd. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t scared out of my mind.
Beware the Beast (Mafia Soldiers Book 2) Page 4
