by Sienna Blake
The next morning, Abel, my father and I rode in a limo together in silence. The city flashed by as we traveled out of Verona, the roads becoming uncovered and gritty. The apartment blocks turned to houses, then to farmhouses, then to stretches of open land.
Nerves jumbled through my veins. I refused to let myself fidget. There were so many unknowns. So many things that could go wrong. The front of my shirt itched but I dared not scratch it.
The chief pulled out a small black device the size of a pea. “This is a recording device.”
“You want me to wear a wire?”
“We need Giovanni to confess to something, anything illegal. To smuggling drugs, to ordering a murder. Just get me something.”
I hesitated. Walking into the lion’s den wearing the wire was a stupid idea. Too risky. What if they searched me?
But the chief was right. They needed something other than my testimony. My father’s lawyers would argue that I fabricated it to cut a deal.
It wasn’t his ass on the line, though.
I stared at the tiny black device. I didn’t have a good feeling about this.
We pulled up to a deserted farmhouse outside of the Verona outskirts. I stepped out of the limo and slid on my sunglasses as the early morning light shot over the thick trees. In a field, now overgrown with weeds and stalks as high as a grown man, a huge wooden barn rose, paint peeling, thick dust on the windows.
“Where are we?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t known about this place. That I wasn’t here just last night.
“A property we hold in a hidden subsidiary company,” my father said. He directed us towards the large barn door, partly opened in anticipation of our arrival. Several men stood holding rifles in their hands.
“What’s this?” I asked as a suited man standing by the door began to wave a metal wand over Abel’s body. It ticked as it went over him.
Abel turned and smirked at me as the metal wand was waved over his back. “A bug detector. Sensitive stuff going on inside. We want to make sure that no one’s stupid enough to wear a wire.”
Don’t fucking flinch. I stood like a lump of metal as the bug detector went over my father. A bead of sweat rolled down the small of my back. “Is this really necessary?”
My father glared at me. “Yes. For me. And you.”
The metal wand waved over him. The man holding it nodded. “You’re clear.”
All eyes fell on me. I could refuse to be tested. Then I’d probably be strip-searched.
Just get this over with, Roman.
I stepped up to the man and held my arms out, looking bored. “Well, go on then.”
He waved the wand over me. Tension coiled in the air as the thing clicked. I felt Abel staring. I knew he was waiting for the wand to start shrieking.
“Just remember,” he smiled, “I’m watching.”
This scan was probably his idea. He’d be the first to put a bullet in me if it went off.
“Turn around, please.”
I spun slowly. My vulnerable back was to Abel and my father. All those eyes. All those guns. I felt naked, under a spotlight. I refused to flinch as the wand made another pass over me.
“That’s all, sir. You’re clear.”
I let myself release a tiny breath of relief before I turned to face Abel, his eyes wide with disbelief. He thought he had me.
I smirked. “What? Did you think I’d not pass your stupid test?”
Abel snarled. I strode past him into the farmhouse as if he didn’t exist.
Inside I glanced around, pretending to take it all in. It was an old barn with a high roof and open rafters, the hay bales still standing about the place. It had been an old abattoir. The air still stank of soured blood and old death, sending a ripple of anxiety through me.
Abel and my father followed me. The barn doors were shut behind us. I turned to my father. “What are we doing here, then? Playing with hay?”
A small smile played on his lips. “We’re going to send a message to Chief Montgomery with proof that we have his daughter.”
“Proof?”
“Yes.” My father smiled at me, the cruel, gleaming smile of a snake. “You’re going to cut off her pretty little finger.”
28
____________
Julianna
I don’t know how many days I was left in that storage room. Two. Three. The light never changed. I had no watch or clock to help me keep time.
My thoughts flashed to Roman. Did he know his father had me? What would he do? Would he try to rescue me? God, how could he even do that without revealing himself to his father as a betrayer? If his father knew he was planning on leaving, he’d kill Roman. Stay safe, Roman. Please, stay safe.
My father must be worried sick about me now. Was he looking for me? Did he have men on the case?
I thought about the bodies found dumped in Little Italy. I imagined my own pale lifeless body, devoid of color and hope, lying in the bottom of a coffin. The bile rose up the back of my throat.
I shook my head. I would not turn out that way. It would all be fine. We’d get out somehow…
It must have been early morning when the door to the storage room slid open, waking me up. I sat up and wiped my face, squinting against the fluorescent light that was never switched off. I had set up a few blankets on the floor in the darkest corner of the room as my bed. That’s where I had slept for the last few nights.
The door to my prison gaped like an open mouth.
I expected Giovanni Tyrell. When a wiry figure stepped from the shadows into my cell, I sank back.
Abel Montero, Giovanni’s right hand man, the man they called “The Butcher.”
His scar flashed white as he smiled at me. “We need an audience with you.”
“What if I don’t want to come with you?”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” A gun appeared in one of his gloved hands. “Would you like to do this the hard way or the easy way? Please say the hard way.” He grinned. “I like it when they choose the hard way.” His voice slithered down my spine like a snake.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I lifted my hands and shuffled forward. “I’ll come willingly.”
That just made Abel grin wider.
He led me through a short corridor to where the main barn area opened up. My eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the increased light. Half a dozen men stood around, some holding guns, all in suits.
All men.
My blood turned cold. My mind flashed back to the night that Eddie and Tate tried to rape me. There was nothing to stop these men from doing whatever they wanted with me. A shiver went down my back.
My gaze fell on the one face I dreamed of and yet, feared to see.
Roman Tyrell.
“Roman,” his name tore from my lips in a desperate pained whisper. Every cell of my being yearned for him. I dared not move.
He looked stunning as always, a king of darkness in a tailored dark gray suit, a black shirt underneath. Coldness wafted off him as he glanced over me. As if he barely knew me. As if he hadn’t been embedded in my heart. As if I had no place in his.
This is just a mask. Roman Tyrell loves you. He will get you out of here.
What are you doing here? Did you know I was here? Please tell me you have a plan. All these things I desperately wanted to ask but couldn’t. We weren’t supposed to love each other. I shoved all my feelings, all my love and desire, back down inside me.
I forced myself to glare at him, at all of them. My heart thumped against my windpipe.
“Welcome, Detective Capulet,” Giovanni Tyrell called out.
I said nothing. I could barely breathe. It took all of my energy to keep my heart rate steady. What did they want with me?
Abel reached around me to grip my throat and I let out a strangled cry. He pulled me right up against him. I could feel every inch of his slimy body. Oh my God. He was hard against my ass. I cringed. He was enjoying my fear. Getting off on it.
“When Mr. Tyrell speaks to you, you speak back, you disrespectful girl,” he hissed into my ear.
Roman didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. Although I could see by the tension on his jaw that he was two seconds away from launching himself at Abel and ripping his face off. If he did, he’d give himself away.
I had to act as unaffected by Abel as possible, for Roman. I couldn’t let Roman see how disgusted I was, how much this evil man touching me was like having bugs crawling around under my skin.
“Speak, girl. And be respectful,” Abel hissed over my shoulder, his nose running down my neck, his disgusting worm of an erection twitching against me. I struggled not to squirm. I would not let him see how much I was screaming inside.
“What’s going on?” I found myself asking, my voice quivering much more than I wanted it to. “Why am I here?”
“You’re going to help us send a message to your father,” Giovanni said.
“Whatever it is,” I said as defiantly as I could, “he won’t agree to it.” Abel tightened his hand on my throat. “Sir,” I added, my voice straining. Abel loosened his grip, but only just.
I could see Roman’s jaw twitch.
Don’t do it, Roman. Don’t give yourself away. We just have to get through this, then figure out a way to escape together.
Giovanni smiled at me. “Oh yes, I think your father will agree. Because it’ll be a small thing, some money, to get you back. And he’ll pay. He’ll pay because it’ll be small enough that he can pay. It won’t be worth involving the police. And he, of all people, knows how badly the police can fuck up hostage situations.”
I frowned, glancing between him and Roman. “You kidnapped me for a small amount of money?” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or terrified that there was something bigger that I wasn’t seeing.
It was Roman who began to laugh. “Stupid girl,” he said, his voice hard and cruel. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“See…what?”
“The money is a decoy. What we will have when we make the exchange are photos, hard evidence, that your father is corrupt.”
I gasped. “But he’s not. He’d never…”
“Never make a cash trade with a Tyrell?” Roman said, his lips lifting in a sneer. “He will for you, his precious only daughter. His weakness. Love makes us weak, doesn’t it? We’d do stupid things for love, wouldn’t we?”
He doesn’t mean that. He doesn’t. He’s just playing the game. He loves me. Love makes us stronger. It gives us a reason to keep fighting.
“But I’ll know the truth,” I said. “I’ll tell—”
“The public doesn’t care about the truth,” Giovanni said. “They just love to lap up the latest scandal. Your father, the ‘incorruptible’, proven to be corrupt? They will eat that up. Photos don’t lie.”
They couldn’t. My father would be ruined. Everything he’d built would be destroyed. All the criminals he’d ever put away would use his “corruption” as an excuse to get their sentences overturned. All the good he’d done under his command would be turned into a pile of rubble all because of me.
I sank back against Abel in horror.
“Shall we begin?” Giovanni said.
“Begin what?”
“The message to your father.” Abel’s voice slid into my ear. “Roman has agreed to cut off your finger.”
My…what?
Giovanni pulled a long butcher's knife from the sheath being held by one of his men. It glinted in the light as he handed it to Roman. Roman took it and turned towards me, his face remaining cold.
My blood froze. Oh my God. He was going to do it. Had he turned on me?
No, Roman would never. He would figure out a way to get us out of this. When? How? If he refused to cut my finger off, he’d be punished.
Abel rubbed his erection into my back. “Go on, girlie,” he whispered in my ear so only I could hear him. He let go of my throat to caress my cheek with his gloved hand. “Scream a little. Bleed for me. You’re in good hands when you pass out. I bet your blood tastes like your pussy will.”
No. No fucking way. I turned my head and sank my teeth into his hand. Soft leather, warm flesh and wetness spilled into my mouth.
He let out a scream and shoved me away. I heard tearing. His glove and part of his palm came away in my teeth. I spat it onto the ground, a mess of black leather and blood.
“You fucking bitch,” Abel said. He backhanded me with his uninjured hand so hard that my head rang. I fell to the cold floor at Roman’s feet.
“Back off, dog.” Roman stepped in front of me, the knife meant for me aimed at Abel.
Don’t defend me, I wanted to scream. You’ve given yourself away.
“I knew it,” Abel yelled. “I fucking knew it. You’ve got a thing for her. You’re the one who had Tate and Eddie killed.”
Tate and Eddie. The two men who had been hired to kidnap me. Giovanni Tyrell had been behind it after all.
“We need her alive, you fucking idiot,” Roman scowled. “We can’t return her to her father all broken.”
“You’re cutting off her finger. What’s another bruise or two? Or are you too soft to do it?”
“Enough, Abel,” Giovanni called out, his voice calm and steady. “Roman is right. We need her alive. And relatively unharmed. I know that you can often…get carried away.”
Only then did Abel back down. “Yes, sir,” he said as he clutched his shirt with his right hand, now gloveless and bleeding down his inner wrist in rivulets.
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“You…” Roman’s voice shook. I snapped my face towards him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
I looked towards where he was staring, where the knife was now pointed. To the back of Abel’s hand.
There in the center was a raised pink circular scar.
A circular burn.
Like a cigarette lighter.
Roman spun towards his father, his face a crumpled mask. “Why did you do it? Why?”
Giovanni straightened up, his chin thrust abnormally high. I swear I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“My mother, my fucking mother,” Roman yelled. “Why did you have her killed?”
“I didn’t—”
“The night she was murdered, the night I watched her die, she attacked her murderer with a cigarette lighter, leaving a circular scar on the back of his hand. Like the one that Abel has.” He pointed at Abel with the knife that was meant for me. “That’s why you wear the gloves.”
“Fucking bitch,” Abel hissed, glaring at me, his other hand covering up the scar as if it were a mark of shame.
“Your dog doesn’t do anything without your instruction,” Roman said, his dark eyes fixed on his father.
Oh, Roman. My heart twisted. His own father had his mother killed. He sat back and watched as the media crucified Roman, as rumors spread around of a little boy so monstrous that he killed his mother at the age of twelve. How could he do that? How could his father do that to his son? The throbbing in my cheek faded as I became overwhelmed with rage for Roman. I burned for Roman. I shook where I sat.
Giovanni’s face curled like the withered leaves of a poisonous tree. “She was going to leave me, leave us. She was going to run off with that bitch prosecutor and leave us all behind. But I fixed it.”
Bitch prosecutor.
I choked back a gasp. A final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Joan. Joan from the taped conversation in my mother’s case file. The one I couldn’t find a file on. My mother had been talking with Maria Tyrell. Maria wanted to testify against Giovanni in exchange for a new life for her three children.
My mother showed up dead in an alleyway a few hours after Maria Tyrell was killed. This was not a coincidence.
Nobody connected the two deaths at the time because they were two very different women, so far apart in their social circles, both killed in two different parts of the city, each
with a different MO. A break and enter gone wrong. A random mugging in an alleyway. A knife. And a gun. Even I hadn’t connected these two deaths for this very reason.
I leapt to my feet. “You son of a bitch.” I only saw Giovanni Tyrell, the edges of my vision fuzzy and black around him. “You had my mother killed.”
“What?” I heard Roman cry, his voice sounding so far away.
“Your mother,” Giovanni snarled at me, “shouldn’t have tried to take my wife away from me and her boys. She filled Maria’s head with such nonsense. She turned Maria against me. She deserved her bullet.”
“You know, you look just like her,” Abel said to me with a cruel smile. “Such a strong woman until she was begging for her life.”
Abel had shot my mother. He had staged the fake robbery in the alleyway where she was found.
“She was a good woman, a loved woman.” I began to blubber as my heart tore into pieces. “You had no right. No fucking right.” My gaze narrowed to the gun on Roman’s hip. I didn’t care that I was surrounded by men with guns who would fire back. Rage flared around my body, gripping me tightly in her burning hands. I was reborn out of the flames like a phoenix, a creature of justice. I would avenge my mother.
I lunged for Roman’s gun, snatching it from his hip. I swung it towards Giovanni. The warehouse filled with the sound of weapons being drawn and hammers being cocked. There were at least five guns, now pointing their cruel black eyes at me.
“No!” Roman lunged in front of me, shielding me with his body.
I screamed at Roman just as Giovanni yelled, “Don’t shoot!” His face turned red as he spat, “Don’t you dare shoot my son!”
A violent crash sounded in stereo. The windows burst in as if a bomb had gone off on all sides. Guns appeared at the openings. Shots rang out and wood splintered as bullets ricocheted around the room like ping pong balls.
“Jules, get down!” Roman yelled at me, shielding me with his body as I dropped to the gritty ground. The smell of hay and dirt hit my nose.
Giovanni’s men ran for cover, yelling, returning fire. It was an ambush. The Veronesis? Or…the police?
How did they know we were here?
In the chaos, Roman and I had been forgotten. We could try to make a run for it.
