The Ruthless Knight

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I’m breathless with anticipation,” I reply dryly. All the while, I scan Nicky’s face, willing him to look at me, to give me a sign that he’s okay.

  “I learned that you have a sister—a very pretty, younger sister.” A sharp pain slices through my chest like I’ve been impaled. She taps her glossy lips with a fingertip. “Jagger, I think. I can hardly wait to get my hands on her. A pair of Jones girls should fetch a handsome price on the underground market.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” I growl, fighting against the restrains.

  “Have you figured out why you’re here yet?” she asks.

  “I have no idea, but leave Jagger out of it. I’ll do anything you ask. Anything.” And I will. I’ll grovel, beg, and play her sadistic games for the rest of my life to save my little sister. More than ever, I understand Nicky’s dedication to this psychopath. He had no choice. Just like me.

  “Since you're having trouble remembering, let me help you out. It was about six years ago. You and your colleague removed several valuable paintings from my villa in Rome.”

  The blood drains from my head into my toes, leaving me dizzy. I remember all too well what happened. Cash had assured us it would be a simple job. The owners were out of the country. Loco, one of Cash’s men, had gone with me. We were to get in and get out with the paintings. But something had gone wrong. Someone was home and interrupted us in the middle of the heist. Loco had shot down the man who confronted us. He was really more of a boy, not more than twenty years old. The event had haunted me for years. His senseless killing had persuaded me to leave the business for good. And for six long years, I’d plotted and planned and saved up my money, waiting for an opportunity to leave.

  “I remember. It was an accident.”

  “You gunned down my son in cold blood.” Her red lips part in a smear. “He was the light of my life, and you killed him.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Loco. I didn’t know he had a gun until it went off.”

  “Loco said it was all your fault.” Her thick eyelashes lower. With her thumb, she flicks ashes onto my bare legs.

  “He’s a liar.”

  “I know. That’s why I killed him.” The click of her heels as she moves around the room echoes in my head. She halts in front of me again. “After my precious boy’s funeral, I swore to find the people responsible for his death. I had a hell of a time finding you, but now, here you are.” Her tone is conversational, pleasant.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to suffer as I have suffered.” The hardness to her oval face is more frightening than the most gruesome horror movie villain. “Luis, come here.”

  The young man hops off the workbench and walks toward her. His stride is confident, almost cocky. He stops beside her. She gives him a long, lingering kiss. I watch, confused, as he crumples at the knees and falls to the floor. A dark pool of red spreads beneath him. She hands the knife to Viktor, the same one she uses to cut up her fruit at breakfast, and bends to look me in the eye. Her face is so close to mine that I can feel the puff of her breath against my cheek. “You will fear me, and when the time comes, you’ll beg for me to end your life.”

  Fourteen

  Nicky

  The next time I open my eyes, I’m in bed. The room is dark except for bright moonlight streaming in through the open French doors. Calliope sits in a chair next to me. Her hair swirls around her head in a cloud of black ringlets. A slight breeze ruffles the hem of her sarong. Bruises dot her bare legs and midriff. She shifts forward to take my hand in hers. The firm grasp of her fingers chisels a crack in the wall around my heart. Memories of last night come rushing back. The endless questions. And the ugly truth about Milada.

  No one knows but Roman. The guilt and shame have eaten at me for sixteen long years. Now my greatest sin has been laid at the feet of Valentina. She’ll use the secret to torment me for the rest of my life.

  “Don’t move.” Calliope strokes my cheek with the back of her hand. “You need to rest.”

  “No. I’m okay.” Pain shoots through my body as I swing my feet to the floor. The room spins as the blood drains from my head. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Two days.”

  Two days? “That can’t be right.” I press a hand to my temple then scan her for injuries.

  “Viktor gave us some kind of injection. I just woke up about an hour ago.” She nods toward a tray of food on the table. “Pablo said he’s been checking in on us.”

  “What about you?” Worries for myself dissipate. Her soft brown eyes stare back at me. My insides melt. She’s so strong. So beautiful. “Did she hurt you?”

  “I’m okay.” Her fingers slip from my grasp as she reclines in the chair. She turns away, watching the tide ebb and flow on the beach. “But Luis isn’t.”

  An insistent pain stabs between my eyes. I swallow down a lump of disgust and regret. No one deserved to die like that. Not even Luis. “She’s totally lost it.”

  “I know.” Tears well in her eyes. I can’t bear the sight. I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her, ignoring the pain in my ribs. She buries her nose in my neck. “She threatened Jagger. What if she finds her? I’ll die before I let that happen.”

  “Where is she? Is she safe?” I stroke a hand through her hair, wanting to provide comfort. She doesn’t deserve this. If only I could snap my fingers and make this all go away.

  “I don’t know. I think so.” Turning misty eyes to meet mine, she musters a tiny smile. “She has money, and she knows how to hide better than I do.”

  “Well, if Valentina knew where she was, she’d already have her here.” Calliope wraps her arms around my neck and presses a kiss to my jaw. “And where is the bitch today?”

  “I don’t know.” Her embrace tightens. “Just hold me, Nicky. I’m so scared.”

  “Me, too.” I wish I had words to take away her fear, but I don’t want to lie to her. We’re in a bad situation that can only get worse. Instead, I hold her close, savoring the press of her breasts against my chest, her warmth, the beat of her heart. She’s real and the only thing holding me together in the midst of this shitshow.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss her words. The confession means more to me than anything.

  All my life, I’ve kept women at arm’s length, enjoying their bodies while numbing my heart to any meaningful connection. Not this time. In a matter of days, Calliope has worked her way into the shadowy corners of my soul. I hold her tighter, press a kiss to her temple, and reply, “Back atcha, Jones.”

  Fifteen

  Calliope

  Valentina is gone all day, but her absence does little to ease my anxieties. Every second is spent dreading her return. Nicky does his best to distract me. We discuss ways to survive this horror. Each conversation ends with the same revelation. If we want to live, we have to escape.

  Once the sun sets, Viktor takes Nicky away. Hours later, he hasn’t returned. Worry churns the contents of my stomach. Whatever he’s going through isn’t pleasant. I sit on the bed, too anxious to sleep. My pulse races, knowing I’m next. I don’t know if I can endure more of her twisted torture. My mind races through dozens of different scenarios. Every encounter with her escalates in intensity. She’s unraveling and we’re the lucky recipients of her insanity.

  There’s a knock on the door. My blood pressure skyrockets. No, no, no. I can’t do this. I’m not ready. Viktor unlocks the door. He’s carrying a dress, shoes, and a tiny black thong and throws them at me. “Put these on. Make yourself nice. You have ten minutes to meet me in the hallway.”

  “Why?” I shrink toward the headboard, unable to stop the trembling of my legs.

  “Boss Lady is having a party and wants you to attend.”

  Terror turns my insides to ice. Undoubtedly, I’m part of the entertainment. If this is anything like my first night here, it’s going to be painful. I need to stall. “I thought she
was away on business.”

  “She was, and now she’s back.” He walks into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

  I thought I had more time to shore up the emotional walls inside my head. Maybe this is part of her game—building expectations then shattering them. I pull on the dress, if it could be called that. It reminds me of my days on the stage. The tops of my breasts spill over the tight spandex material. The short hem reveals the cheeks of my ass. I drag the straps of sky-high stripper heels over my feet.

  Viktor opens the door. His gaze sweeps over me, filled with heat. The walls of my throat constrict, making it hard to breathe. “Downstairs. Let’s go.”

  As I walk down the sweeping staircase, I can feel his lustful gaze on my behind. After I kill Valentina, he’s next on my list. We pass through a set of double doors into an enormous ballroom. Colored lights illuminate the chair on a stage at the opposite end. Men in tuxedos and women in expensive gowns chatter in conversation. Nicky is nowhere to be seen. The guests turn in unison to look at me. I must be a sight in my slutty apparel.

  “Ah, here she is. My new toy. Isn’t she lovely?” Valentina sweeps forward, her long hair swinging with each step. She hooks her arm through my elbow. “Come, Calliope. I want you to meet my guests.” We push through the crowd. “Look at her. Isn’t she magnificent?” she purrs to a short, bald man with too many rings on his thick fingers.

  “Beautiful. Such lovely skin.” He smooths a hand over my arm. I recoil at his clammy touch. “How much?”

  “Patience.” Valentina gives his hand a playful smack. “First, my toy is going to dance for us. We can talk price later.”

  Bile rises in my throat. Is this her latest ploy? I’m not sure what she means, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the stage at the end of the room. We continue our circuit of the room. Every step is agony. I’ve been here before. Years ago. Forced to entertain my stepfather’s friends and bar patrons. Time never erased the pain of being objectified by strangers. I have no idea how she knows how much I hate this, but she does. By the smirk on her red lips, she glories in my discomfort. Some of the men touch my hair, my breasts, my ass. And there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

  At the front of the room, she climbs the platform steps, dragging me with her. I want to object, but the moisture has left my mouth. The lights dim until we’re standing beneath the spotlight. Sultry music pumps through the hidden speakers. Thank goodness I haven’t eaten since breakfast because I want to vomit. Right here on the stage.

  “No,” I whisper, finding my voice again.

  “Oh, yes.” Using her little finger, she brushes the hair back from my temple. “Dance for me, my pretty. And make it good, or I’ll show you pain like you’ve never known.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You will.” She tilts my face up to hers. The flat coldness in her gaze carries a hint of demented delight. “I insist.” With a tiny shove, she propels me toward the chair.

  “Please. I’ll do anything. Not this.” When Cash rescued me from the strip club, I swore I would never dance again. Yet, here I am, once again a puppet in someone else’s show.

  “Our girl is feeling shy.” Turning toward the guests, she calls out, “Do I have a volunteer?” A murmur ripples across the floor. The short, bald man shoots a hand into the air. Valentina makes a show of surveying the crowd. Nicky is standing at the back of the room, partially hidden in shadow. She claps her hands. “Nikolay. Won’t you do the honors?”

  I don’t know if I’m relieved or mortified. His gaze avoids mine as he climbs the stairs. Viktor stands a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. The air thickens until I can hardly breathe. A dozen faces stare expectantly at me. Valentina presses Nicky into the chair. A muscle ticks below his cheekbone. I rub sweaty palms over my thighs.

  “I won’t do it.” My voice is louder this time, more confident.

  In a flash of movement, Valentina snatches the hair at the back of my head, bending me backward, exposing my throat. The gesture forces me to look in her eyes. “Viktor, take her to the guesthouse.”

  “No. Wait.” I swallow down my objections. It’s only a dance. One dance. I can do this. Anything to avoid the chamber of horrors.

  “Excellent.” A sickening grin curves her red lips. She presses a kiss to my mouth then releases me. I stumble back a few steps before regaining my balance on the tall heels.

  The music grows louder. The song changes. I close my eyes, blow out a cleansing breath, and try to find the beat. It’s a familiar song, my signature song when I headlined at The Twisted Garter. The bass thumps. I used to love dancing, before it became shameful. My head bobs and my hips begin to sway. One foot in front of the other. Baby steps, Calliope. I run my fingers through my hair, bend over slightly and swing my hair from one side to the other. When I straighten, Nicky is staring straight at me. Anger brightens the color of his eyes, but there’s more than fury. There’s lust and heat and need.

  So, I dance for him and only him, blotting out the balding fuck at the edge of the stage and the other perverts drooling in the audience. I put everything I’ve got into grinding on Nicky’s lap, smoothing my hands down his legs, writhing against his chest. He’s hard within seconds. Knowing he’s turned on by my shame is empowering and filthy and serves to prove how fucked up I am. He becomes my anchor in a sea of rage and embarrassment and lust, because I’m just as turned on as he is.

  “Take it off.” Valentina tucks a Ben Franklin into my cleavage.

  The song is extended play and seems to go on forever. Fuck it. This moment doesn’t define who I am. I’m a victim of her debauchery and nothing more. I won’t let her break me. With my resolve bolstered, I grab the hem of my dress, drag it over my head, and continue dancing. When the music ends, I’m out of breath and left standing in the center of the stage, naked, staring out at a sea of strangers. Humiliation rushes in to replace my defiance. It’s only been about ten minutes, but it seems like a lifetime.

  I’m so going to kill her.

  “Good girl.” Valentina pats my ass like I’m an obedient puppy. “You did amazing, my pet. Since you behaved, I’m going to give you the rest of the night off. Viktor, take her back to her room.” In this moment, I’m flooded with conflicting emotions—relief, disgust, gratitude. I reach for my dress, eager to cover my nudity. She kicks the garment aside, out of my reach. “Leave it.”

  I’m forced to walk ahead of Viktor. I hold my head high, refusing to show a morsel of embarrassment, but once the bedroom door shuts behind me, I break. My knees buckle. I sink to the middle of the fluffy rug and let the tears flow. A few minutes later, the door creaks open. Nicky pulls me into his arms, brushing my hair away from my face.

  “Hush. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He murmurs the words against my ear.

  “No. It’s not okay. It’s fucked up.” I shove against his embrace, desperate to isolate myself. Too many feelings rush through me at once. More than I can handle. I dangle on the edge of no return, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

  “I know, baby. I know.” Instead of releasing me, he scoops me up and carries me to the bed. He strips out of his shirt and wraps it around me, somehow knowing that I need a physical barrier between me and the outside world. Then I’m sitting on his lap, back in his arms. I bury my face in his neck. The tattered remnants of my self-respect lie in shambles at our feet.

  “How did she know?” The tears slow. I swipe at my cheeks and lean back to look up into his face.

  “Preying on your vulnerabilities is what gets her off.” His lips brush my temple. “I think that’s what she does when she’s gone. She’s investigating our histories to find our weaknesses.”

  “Well, she hit the jackpot. When I was fifteen, my mom moved us in with her boyfriend Ben. She went through a lot of men, but Ben was a pretty nice guy. He owned a strip club. We lived in his apartment upstairs. He bought me clothes and picked me up from school. It was nice to have a father figure around for a change. Then Mom go
t arrested for drugs and went into rehab for the hundredth time. I could either stay with Ben or go into the system.

  “Once she was gone, everything changed. Ben said I needed to pull my weight, pay for rent. I looked a lot older than my age. So, he put me on the stage, dancing. He’d have private parties for his VIP customers. They paid a lot of money for private dances. Extra if they could put their hands on me.

  “Mom came home, but nothing changed. By this time, I was featuring at other clubs, making decent money, but he kept all of it for himself. I hated her for not protecting me. And I was terrified he’d do the same thing to Jagger. I was trapped with no way out until Cash came along.”

  I expect to see pity or disgust on his face, but there’s neither. He takes my chin in his hand, tilts my face to his, and presses a light kiss to my forehead. “You did what you had to do to survive. There’s no shame in that.”

  His words give me a little solace. My life has been a series of hard choices. As a fifteen-year-old girl with no money, no home, and low self-esteem, I did the best I could. Thank goodness, Grandma kept Jagger with her. My sister’s life might not have been idyllic, but at least she didn’t have to deal with our stepfather and the strip club.

  When the lights are out and we’re in bed, I crawl into Nicky’s arms. I need to feel something besides the ache of humiliation and regret. Moonlight streams through the open French doors, giving the room an ethereal blue glow. We’re far enough away from the party that the only sounds are the crashing waves and wind chimes.

  I slide a hand along his sternum. His skin warms my palm. The solidity of his muscular torso provides an anchor in the hurricane of the night’s events. I move closer, melding my body to his.