by Kandee Reyna
“Lo?” She rasps into the phone. It’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in a week, and I close my eyes, my head falling back, relief selfishly blooming in my chest, even though she’s with the Russian Devil.
“Angel.” I whisper out her name like a prayer, “Baby, are you alright?”
“Lo, I’m so sorry.” A light sob cuts her off and it’s fucking heartbreaking, “Is Anthony okay?” Fuck, it was already going to be hell getting her back, now there’s no way in hell she’d forget this shit, allow herself to be immersed in my world again; not after this. And she’s worried about Anthony? She’s stuck with that limp-dick cunt and she’s worried about him?
“Fuck, baby don’t cry. It’s okay, I’m gonna come get you. I swear it. Anthony is fine baby, he’s out looking for you now. Can you tell me where you are?” Maybe she can give me something… anything.
“I don’t know… a house—” I hear a loud smack, skin connecting with skin and then a yelp. He fucking hit her.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?”
“That’s a warning, Lo. It’s just the beginning for her if you don’t do what I want. I’m tired of waiting, tired of playing this pussy-footing game. You have four hours. Sign those papers or she’s fucking mine to do with as I see fit, and let me tell you, I’m a kinky-ass mother fucker.”
The line goes dead and I roar, flipping my desk. I move to the wall, burying my fist in the plaster, scraping my knuckles back from the other side of the drywall. Max walks in and I look at him expectantly and he shakes his head, dropping his eyes to his feet.
“He’s got a block on it. We couldn’t get a location.”
“The guy Anthony caught still alive?”
“Yeah, man, he’s in the basement.”
“Good.” I stalk out of the room, and down the stairs. I know Max is calling my name, but my vision and sound is lost in a sea of red, as I tear through the house toward the basement. It’s quiet and empty; a sad excuse for a home. Loretta is at her sister’s in Texas for a week. I sent her away as soon as Renee was taken, along with my mom to her cousin’s in California. I push through the door, and move down the steps, anything good about me being left on each one as my foot leaves each of the creaking planks. I move further down into the darkness until my feet hit the cold, hard concrete.
I move across the floor in slow deliberate steps; death and darkness are all that surround me. I’m walking shoulder to shoulder with the Reaper and we both snicker at his jokes and his nightly line up of misfits and idiots that never even saw it coming. This one right here in particular. That’s what happens when you share your soul and it leaves with the one who’s gone. One minute you think you can turn your life into puppy dogs and rainbows, and the next you’re on your fucking knees, half of yourself being ripped away, leaving you to drown in your own blood and guilt. My heart’s no longer cold; it’s just fucking empty, nonexistent, gone without her. My day has been a blur of work and more work. I don’t rest, that would require defeat.
Rest is for the weak.
I won’t be defeated.
I won’t fucking sleep ‘til I get her back.
I won’t give up until she’s in my arms again. FUCK! How could I let this shit happen? I stop at the metal tray sitting a few feet away from our visitor, and his breath picks up behind his gag when he sees my choice of weapon. I don’t even give him time to see my toy of choice before I slam the hammer down hard against his hand. “Tell me where the fuck she is!” Spit flies from my mouth and sweat pours down my face. I’ve got a weeks’ worth of stubble on my face and my hair is falling into my eyes. He wails, and it bounces off the walls of the unfinished basement making my ears ring and I bend down low, close to his face, removing the gag. “That wasn’t an answer mother fucker. Where the fuck is she!?”
The hammer drops onto his hand again, but I don’t even feel the swing. I’m numb, completely numb. His wail turns into a scream and he resorts to begging, “Please! Please!” Tears run down his dirty face, leaving trails of white beneath the brown of the dirt and dried blood that’s accumulated on his oily face over the last twenty hours. “I don’t know where she is! They don’t tell me anything. I swear, I SWEAR!” His words break at the end and he begins to sob. Through his sobs he whispers, pleading for me to relent, but I won’t. Not until I find Renee.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Max. “Come get him. Drop him off outside of Dmitry’s house. He’s not talking but leave a note with him. Let Dmitry and his goons know we’re coming and send one of your guys down to finish him off.”
At my last words he starts to plead again. “No, no, no, no! NO! Please! I’ll tell you what you want. I’ll tell you anything! ANYTHING! If I know, you know.” I grab a knife from the metal table of toys and drop the hammer down hard on the metal surface, causing him to jump.
I spin the knife in my hand, allowing the cold metal to refract light from the bulb hanging over head, giving him a chance to understand what’s coming. “Talk. Where is she?”
I press the tip of the knife into his thigh, the blade pressing through his dirty jeans, and then let up after a few seconds. He grunts through his teeth, white spit pooling at the corners of his mouth. I watch as blood starts to seep from the wound, creating a growing red circle on the filthy denim.
I pull the knife away, looking at him expectantly. “I don’t know where they’re keeping her.” I lower the knife back to his leg and he starts talking faster. “No, man! Hey! I swear! It’s a private location. Only the boss and his higher ups know where it’s at. It’s by the water though, on the outskirts of one of those fancy towns, it’s where he goes on vacation. The Hamptons!” I stab the knife into his thigh, sinking the blade half way through his flesh and I feel the tip scrape the bone. He cries out again, louder this time and his head starts to nod off. The pain more than his body can handle. I let off the pressure. The door opens, spilling the bright light of the hallway down the steps causing me to squint.
“We’ll take care of it from here, boss.” Two of Max’s best come down the steps.
“Thanks. When you’re done, get me the address to Dmitry’s place in the Hamptons.” I grunt out and turn to walk up the steps, leaving the knife in the Russians leg. “Kill him. I don’t care if it’s quick or not.”
“Wait! No, I told you what you wanted to know! I told you everything!” His begging becomes muffled as I slam the door. I hardly hear the silenced gun shot. I’ll get her back. Even if she’s not mine anymore.
Max is waiting for me at the top of the stairs, “Lo, Rey called. He’s got something.”
Chapter Thirty-four: Renee
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror back in the room they’re keeping me. My cheekbone is already a deep shade of blue and bright purple. There’s a gash just below my eye from some stupid ring he keeps on his pinky finger. Barf. I’m pretty sure I could stand to have at least two stitches. However, here I am, in this pristine bathroom without shit. I checked all the drawers in the room for clothes, too, but came up with nothing; my busted-up cheek and skimpy ass outfit have me feeling cheap. Bet if I went out on the street like this someone would approach me either for sex or with a card to a domestic violence center. I move back to the bedroom, giving up on staring at my empty eyes and fucked up face, stopping at the window. The garden my room looks out on is beautiful. There’s brightly colored rose bushes in the center of it, a red-brick pathway that circles the roses, and then beautifully landscaped flowerbeds in a wider circle, with stone benches. The entire thing sits in a beautifully manicured yard with large trees. My feet itch to be able to go out there and sit down. Being stuck in this room is bullshit.
I climb back on the bed and pull my knees up to my chest. Lo sounded like it killed him to talk to me. A sour taste sits on my tongue and my eyes shift to the clock. It’s been almost an hour since I was in the library with Dmitry. After he slapped the shit out of me, he ran his hand over my face, through the blood on my cheek and licked it from his hand. Fucking. Li
cked. It. And then that fuck praised me for not crying. So much for my decision to withhold my tears. Whether Lo comes for me or not, I can’t bend to his will. I refuse to let him feel like he has the upper hand with me. If tears are what pisses him off, then it’s what he’ll get. I have a feeling his sadistic-ass self would like it all.
My mind drifts from Dmitry back to the last conversation I had with my dad.
“Sunshine, you out here?” He steps down off the back porch.
“Yeah, daddy. I’m out here weeding the garden.”
“That’s my girl. Listen… Your ticket is scheduled for you to head back tomorrow…” He pauses for a second, letting it sink in that it’s almost time for me to go home. “You want me to change it? You can stay, baby, until you’re ready to go back. You seem… better, since you’ve been here.” I have been better since I’ve been here; but it’s a superficial type of better. My heart and head are a desolate place. If he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, he’d probably hear all the little pieces of my heart rattling around in the emptiness. I need to go home. With every weed I pull, and every fence I check, I feel the pressing need to see Lo more and more. I want him. I need him. It’s killing me how badly my body craves him. I haven’t spoken with him since I left, and every time I pick up the phone to call him I just can’t do it. I need to see him in person, even if he turns me away and never wants to talk to me again for the rest of my life I have to try to fix this.
“No, Daddy, I need to get home. I think I’ve figured this all out.”
“Yeah, I figured you had. Have you talked to him already?”
“No, not yet… I’ll go see him after I get back.”
He just nods his head in understanding and he looks like he wants to say something, like he’s working through something in his head, but he doesn’t voice it, “We’ll I’ll leave you to it,” and he turns to go back into the house.
“You know it’s okay, right Daddy?” I yell after him.
He stops, his boots scuffing against the gravel. “What’s okay, Sunshine?”
“To move on. To find love. You deserve it.”
A sad smile stretches his lips, “We don’t always get what we deserve, baby. Sometimes your heart just doesn’t move on.” He turns and heads back into the house.
He’s right, and there’s no way I could ever move on from this. I need him.
“Beautiful? It’s time.” Dmitry’s voice jolts me from my memory. He has a garment bag in his hand and a pair of black, killer stilettos. “Here, I’ve brought you an outfit to change into. Don’t want everyone seeing what’s mine.” I shudder. His? No-fucking-thanks.
“I’m not fucking yours, so even if I went out naked, there would be no risk of that.” I move from the bed and reach for the bag anyway, though, happy to get out of this stupid nightgown.
“One day, Beautiful, you’ll start to understand how lucky you are to be mine,” His hand twists a lock of my hair around his finger and I stand stiffly, not wanting to provoke another slap from him. “but first,” His hand slides up into my hair and he grips it painfully, pulling my head down to the left and I grit my teeth to keep from yelling, “I’ll have to break this spirit of yours.” He runs his nose up the side of my exposed neck, inhaling deeply then licks the side of my face. He lets go abruptly and I stumble to get my footing. “You have fifteen minutes to dress and meet me in the dining room. You must be starving.” He turns on his heel and moves to shut the door, but pauses, “Don’t test my patience, Renee. I expect you to be punctual.” The door clicks closed quietly.
I sag against the bed, pulling air into my lungs and wiping my face off. I stay that way for a few seconds catching my breath and then I lay the bag on the bed, unzip it and pull out the skimpy red material. Oh, great. I roll my eyes. It’s a red, mini dress that dips low in the front with a completely open back minus a few strands of red material that ties in the back in a loose corset style. I lay it on the bed next to the shoes and then take out the small black cosmetic sized bag. There’s a pair of lacey black panties, thank God, a necklace that looks like a rope of diamonds. Yes, a rope of fucking diamonds, and a matching set of hoop earrings. These things are probably worth at least a hundred grand. Rocks weigh my stomach down as I gather everything up and move to the bathroom to change. God, I hope Lo comes for me.
I step out, looking like an expensive whore and turn the door knob, pulling slowly, half expecting it to be locked, but it’s not. I walk down the long hall; my heels unsteady on the plush carpet and make my way to the foyer. It’s empty, and there’s no one around. The house is something out of an old horror film basked in the dark and lit only by lights that make the gold walls look extra yellow. The front door stands taunting me and I look left and right again then move quickly to it, retching it open, preparing to run, drown in the fucking ocean, get eaten by a shark, any-fucking-thing other than be here, but my view of freedom is blocked by a wall of a man. Vlad.
“Where are you going, Miss Moran?”
“Nowhere,” fear spikes in my heart, “I wanted to go to the garden,” I swallow my heart back into my chest.
“You’re needed in the dining room, no?”
“Oh, right… um… Yes.” I turn and walk away quickly moving between the two staircases to the part of the house I’ve yet to enter. To the right is an expansive living space with plush leather furniture, a larger-than-life flat screen over a great stone chimney, and oh joy, another large, expensive carpet. Everything about this place is gawdy and over stated, and it makes me wonder who in the world designed it. To the left is a table so big, I feel like Scarface should be sitting at the end of it, but he’s not, Dmitry is. He looks small, and not at all powerful at the end of the expansive table. I stifle a smile.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs to me, “You look lovely. Come, sit with me.” My feet hesitate for a second before I move toward him. Avoid confrontation. I pull out a chair three down from his and his mouth pulls into a straight line, but he doesn’t say anything. “You’ll sit next to me soon enough, Krasivaya. I’ll let it go for now.” He looks me over for a second, “That dress suits you; the diamonds as well. You’ve got a little more than two hours until we board my jet and head to my home. A little over two hours until I have my men take everything your precious Milo owns by force. Tell me, Krasivaya, why do you like someone with so little power, anyway? You can have me, you know. If you come to me willingly it will make it significantly easier on you; we can avoid those nasty little marks on your face.”
I make eye contact and hold his gaze with fire in my eyes, “Your power means shit to me. Your power is over women who are drugged and raped until they’re pliable. That’s not power. I hope Lo and his guys kill every single one of your men, and then come here and slit your fucking throat. I will never, never bend to you.” Slit his throat? Holy fuck, I’ve lost my mind.
He’s spitting mad, I can see it in his eyes, the blue all but disappears and is replaced with black from his dilated pupils; my fight excites him. So much for avoiding confrontation. “You don’t have to fucking bend,” His mask of control is slipping, “I’ll fucking break you until you’re kissing my fucking feet and begging for my cock, you stupid bitch.”
My mouth goes dry. He has no self-control, he’s a ticking bomb, and I really need to be careful. I control my breathing and then choose to pacify him by not responding, only this seems to piss him off. His chair scrapes across the wooden floor and he closes the space between us in two steps, grabs my hair and pulls me to my feet. “You’ll respond when I speak to you, Renee,” He yanks hard and I whimper despite trying hard to stay silent. “You will fucking break for me. I’m really hoping Milo doesn’t do the right thing here, just so I can destroy everything around you and watch your face as you realize there’s no one left to save you.” He pulls me flush against his body and it feels so wrong, gross. “I think I’ll keep you even if he follows through with orders. You really are lovely.” He dips his head to my neck and bites me. It’s not a love
bite, or a kinky bite that’s borderline painful, no, it hurts, and I can’t help but yell out. “Mmm… Yes, Beautiful, let me hear you scream.” Hot tears fill my eyes as he pulls my hair harder. I feel a few strands break away from my scalp into his hand. He starts to lower his mouth to mine and I can’t. I can’t do it. He closes his lips over mine before forcing his tongue into my mouth and I revolt, biting until I taste the metallic tinge of his blood on my taste buds.
“You FUCKING BITCH!” He roars, pushing me to the ground. My hip hits a chair, eliciting a hiss from me and then a shiny black shoe is in my face and pain radiates from my jaw to my neck, making it feel stiff and my head heavy. I’m picked back up and thrown down again before I can catch my bearings. I curl into a ball, protecting my head in my hands, and he kicks me again, the pointed toe landing in my ribs, my air rushing from my lungs on a cry. I chance a look up, and he looks like an enraged animal, blood dripping from his mouth through his gritted teeth. I hide my head behind my hands again, just in time for his foot to connect with my face. The sharp pain radiates from my fingers to my wrists, taking the brunt of the kick. My body jolts out on its own, exposing my stomach, and he takes the opportunity to kick my gut. I lose my breath and flail for a minute, unable to gasp air back into my lungs. It burns my insides and silent cries form on my lips. Tears stream down my face as my body convulses, trying to time my breaths right to pull air back into my lungs.
Just as I start to see black stars dance around the outside of my vision my body gets it shit together and I gasp precious air back into my lungs and let it back out on a scream I didn’t approve but couldn’t prevent. He raises his foot high and he’s going to bring it back down on my head but a commotion at the front door stops him. His eyes go wide with fear and he scrambles to wipe the blood from his face and straighten his suit before an older man with a heavy build and stark white hair comes into the dining room with two mountain sized men at his sides.
