I swallowed.
“Buddy? You get it?”
“Yeah, Dad. I get it.”
“Good,” he clipped, once again in full control of his emotions. “Now I don’t know how long these guys are going to be, but let’s not waste any time. If we can get a shuffle going, we might be able to make it to that table and find a tool that can get these cuffs off.”
I nodded, turning my head to listen to Dad’s instructions, but before he could give any more, the sound of an approaching chopper cut through the air.
We both stilled, looking up at the pocked tin roof.
“Rhodes?” I whispered hopefully.
“It’s got to be.” Dad chuckled.
We sat in bullish silence, listening to the chopper drawing closer and coming in to land. A smile tugged at the edge of my lips until gunshots tore along the edge of the shack. We flung ourselves sideways, landing with a thud and matching groans. I ducked my head as more shots spat through the air. A few whizzed through the thin shack walls, pinging off the metal. Yelling ensued, followed by the sound of bodies dropping to the earth.
The chopper blades still whirred, but the gunfire stopped.
Slowly lifting my head, I struggled to look over my shoulder.
“Dad, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he groaned.
Our double chair awkwardly shifted as he strained to see the door.
Shuffling footsteps approached. I held my breath, hoping for good news, but I knew the second the door flicked back that I should have known better.
I didn’t recognize the men standing in the doorway. The sun shone behind them, hiding the details of their features, but I could tell neither of them were Rhodes and I could tell by the dread coursing through my stomach that these men had nothing to do with the FBI.
“Aw, shit,” Dad muttered.
“This just got worse, didn’t it?”
Dad cursed under his breath.
“How can anything be worse than what was about to happen to us?”
With a shake of his head, Dad breathed one word: “Marchant.”
Chapter 34
Caitlyn
My wrists were burning. It didn’t help that I’d spent the last few hours fighting my bonds. Of course Bruno hadn’t chosen fine ribbon or a soft scarf to tether me to his bedpost. No, he’d wrapped coarse rope around my wrists and ankles. My body was screaming from being in this position for so long, my cramping muscles making it impossible to relax. As if I could anyway. I was lying starfish on some sicko’s bed while my boyfriend was being tortured and probably buried alive, just like Gabriel’s brother.
A sob quivered my belly. Tears burned my eyes but I blinked at them, refusing to let them fall. I would not give in, not yet. When Bruno got back from doing Santiago’s bidding, I had to have my wits about me. I had to have enough sense in my head to scratch his eyes out. I’d do anything not to let him touch me. Just the very idea of his weight on top of me, of his slimy tongue touching my skin, of his...
I squeezed my eyes tight.
“Shut up, Caity. Just stop thinking!”
My ankles jerked against the ties, rubbing the skin until it burned so much I couldn’t stand it.
I let out a cry, my head sagging back against the pillows. My belly quaked.
What was the point of fighting?
Eric was dead.
A tear slipped free, my resolve to stay strong crumbling as I let the haunting thought inside.
He was gone.
I shuddered, memories taunting me...the first time he really spoke to me...on the beach, our first kiss, his killer-watt smile, the way his hands felt as they trailed down my back, the soft pads of his fingers skimming my skin.
The lock clicked on the door. I flinched, frantically struggling against my bonds as it crept open. The footsteps approaching the bed were fast and clipped, making me struggle that much harder.
“Don’t touch me!” I knew showing my fear was a big mistake, it’d no doubt turn him on, but I was desperate. I just needed—
“Shhh, calm down. It’s okay.” Soft hands touched my face, brushing the ragged locks of hair away from my eyes.
I sucked in a breath. “Monique. Are you supposed to be in here?”
Her smile was soft and kind. “Santiago sent me. He needs you for a meeting.”
I curled my lip and looked away from her.
“I know,” she whispered. “But you must.”
She worked at the knots around my wrists first, struggling to untie them. Eventually the first one broke free and she rubbed my tattered skin, tutting in sympathy.
I ignored her, keeping my eyes on the ceiling as she worked off my other bindings. My body felt weak as she sat me up. Her hand rubbed slow circles on my back.
“Come, I have drawn a bath for you.”
“I don’t want a bath.”
“You must.”
“Must I?” I jerked away from her. “He took my love and he expects me to just work for him!”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m hurting!” I tapped my chest. “You think this is less painful than the bruises! Than the broken ribs!” I sucked in a breath, my vision blurring with tears. I held the air in my lungs, shaking my head until I was forced to take another breath. I hated the way my body betrayed me.
I always thought Romeo and Juliet and all those tragic love stories were so over-the-top and melodramatic, but I got it now. That agony, that hollow, soul-destroying ache pounding through my body… that was more painful than anything I’d ever endured.
I covered my face with my hands and doubled over. Monique’s hand reached out for me again, her arm covering me as she rested her head on my shoulder and shushed me like a mother hen.
“What’s taking so long!” Santiago’s bark made Monique jump.
She jolted away from me, standing by the bed. “Sorry, señor, but Carlotta is very tired. She has had a stressful night.”
Santiago approached the bed, snatching my wrist and rubbing his thumb across my raw skin before his eyes darted to my matching ankles.
“Bruno es un idiota.” He sighed.
Monique bit her lip. I was guessing idiota meant idiot. I could think of far more vile things to call Santiago’s nephew, and I felt ready to say them until the man’s eyes snapped to me and his mask slipped away.
He may have thought his nephew was a moron, but you didn’t say that to a man like him. He was still livid about my escape attempt and he wasn’t going to let me forget it in a hurry.
“Get up. Get dressed. I need you for a meeting.”
“What meeting?”
His eyebrow quirked and he glared down at me.
I met his dirty look with one of my own.
“You’ll find out when you get there.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“You will do it. I have a potential client who could use your eyes.”
I stood from the bed. “They’re not available today.”
His unmasked face simmered, his expression flashing with unchecked wrath.
Pulling my body tall, I choked back my fear. “I gave you an opportunity last night. I told you if you set them free that I would willingly do anything for you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Santiago snickered, his laughter growing to a loud explosion as he tipped his head back. “Carlotta, my dear, do you honestly think I can’t stop you from running? I don’t need your word or your promise, and Bruno will take you when I say he can.” In a flash, he snatched my face, pulling me towards him. I gasped, losing my balance and having to grab his forearms to keep from falling over. His spittle sprayed me as he seethed. “You will do whatever I say because I demand it, and if you fight me, I will break you.”
The fear I’d tried to choke down surged back up my throat.
“You are mine, Carlotta, and you have no right to negotiate.”
“I’d rather die than work for you.”
With a smirk, he let me go, pushing m
e back so I fell onto the bed. Standing over me, he wagged his finger at my head. “You will give me what I want or I will render you useless for the rest of your life.” Leaning down to my ear, he whispered, “You won’t get the satisfaction of death. You will spend the rest of your days in suffering.”
My eyes skimmed over his face and his black smile spread.
“You know I speak the truth, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then get dressed!”
His booming finish made me recoil. With a soft snigger he walked toward the door, pausing once to shout at Monique, “I want her ready in thirty minutes!”
The door slammed shut behind him. A shudder ran down my spine, making my body spasm. Monique’s soft touch did nothing to abate the numb reality raining over me.
This was it.
Monique was right. I wanted to die, but Santiago would never let me.
The only other choice I had left was acceptance and I didn’t know if I could do that.
Chapter 35
Eric
The helicopter ride took less than an hour. I couldn’t help glancing at my watch every two seconds. I don’t know why; it was like a nervous tick or something.
Marchant’s men had hauled us up, using bolt cutters from the shed to break the cuffs. Dad and I didn’t try to fight them as they led us out of the shed. The two machine guns aimed at our heads made the decision an easy one. We had to step over Sal’s bloody body, his torso riddled with bullet holes. The other guy had a bright red hole on his forehead, blood trickling from the opening. I couldn’t see the driver properly, just a black shoe sticking out from behind the bush. It reminded me of Gramps.
I jerked away from the sight, locking my eyes on the helicopter in front of us. The blades kept whirring the whole time. We climbed the step and jumped in, knowing it was pointless to fight. There’s no way we could battle three armed men. Even if I had made a break for the gun lying next to Sal’s corpse, could I have gotten a shot off before being gunned down?
If I was honest, I didn’t know why they hadn’t finished us off already.
The chopper banked to the left and I got a clear view of The Strip. The sun was hitting the tip of the Luxor, making it a blinding diamond on the end of this surreal finger in the desert. I glanced at Dad; his face was hard, unrelenting, giving nothing away. I wanted Caity beside me, reading him, telling me everything she saw.
I wanted Caity beside me. Period.
At least I was closer to her now. I glanced at the man adjacent to me. His brow arched and he prodded his gun into my side. What difference did it make if I was closer to her? It’d all be for nothing if I couldn’t make it back to her in time.
The helicopter slowed to a hover, coming to land on the outskirts of town. A black car was waiting for us on the runway. We were shoved into it before the doors slammed shut around us. We drove for twelve minutes and twenty-six seconds, according to my watch, parking underground. I wasn’t sure exactly where we were, having driven back-roads to get here, but there was something familiar about the structure.
The second we stepped out of the car, I knew what it was.
Club Impulse.
The old building I’d broken into the night before. We were obviously below ground.
“Get moving.” The gun poked me in the shoulder while a rough hand pushed me forward.
I followed Dad, keeping my eyes on the back of his head. We were yanked to a stop outside a black, metal door. The guy in front banged twice and the door opened a few moments later.
He went through, keeping us outside with the gun lackeys. I scanned the room, looking for any kind of exits, but all I could see were brick walls, the concrete holding them together chipped and crumbling.
Quick conversation fired from behind the door, catching my attention.
“You were supposed to wait until after they’d been buried and pick them up before they’d died!”
“They would have heard the chopper coming.”
“Which is why I told you to land a few miles back and go the rest of the way on foot! Now I have to deal with Santiago, too.”
“Don’t worry, we killed all his men. Santiago will not find out for a while.”
The voice humphed. “Fine, fine. Let me deal with the kid and then I’ll go and make sure Santiago doesn’t become a thorn in my side.”
The door flew open and a middle-aged man appeared. He reminded me of James Bond, all suave in his perfectly fitted business suit. His face had a hard edge to it, his eyes gleaming with a malice that he obviously wanted the world to see. His gaze flicked over me before skirting to my father. They rounded, his head jolting back with surprise before a low, gravely laugh shot out of his belly.
“I thought you were dead.”
Dad shrugged, his voice flat. “Surprise.”
“Oh, yes, it mostly definitely is. I look forward to killing you again, Antonio...or should I say Declan?”
“You know who I am.” Dad’s calm, unruffled voice was damn impressive. It reminded me of Gramps.
Marchant stepped towards him, cupping the back of Dad’s head and gripping a fistful of hair. “I let you off easy last time. I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. Karma has kept you alive, because I did not punish you enough the first time. No one steals from me. No one seduces my wife. You wrote your death sentence.”
“I know.”
“You wrote his, too.” Marchant’s eyes flicked to me, his white teeth flashing.
Dad was right. This would be so much worse than Santiago’s men. They were there to do a job and get the hell back home. Marchant was here to have some fun and take as long as he wanted doing it.
Chapter 36
Caitlyn
With only thirty minutes, the bath was flagged. Instead, Monique stripped off my tattered fishnet stockings and hot pants, washing off my slutty-looking makeup and bringing me back to myself. I gazed at my undressed face in the mirror, missing the girl I once was, that carefree Caitlyn who lay on the beach with Stella and her friends, soaking up the sun without a care in the world.
I wanted to hate that homeless man for what he did to me.
But then I couldn’t.
Running my thumb over the pads of my fingers, I thought back to everything that had happened to me since that electric spark. My new eyes had saved me from losing it to Chase, they’d helped me save Indie and shown me what true friendship looked like. They helped me save those girls...and they’d brought me and Eric together. For that reason alone, I could never hate this curse, but was that enough for me to keep it?
“Here you go.” Monique’s gentle voice pulled me away from my reminiscing. I stood as she approached me, taking the fitted pants from her and sliding them on. She held out the pale pink pinstriped shirt and I slipped my arms into it, buttoning it to the top before tucking it in. Monique smiled and undid the top two buttons before threading a thin, shiny black belt through the pant loops and doing up the gold buckle. The classy-looking outfit was finished off with a pair of glossy black heels. I took the shoes from her and sat down to put them on, my fingers still quivering. Would I ever stop shaking?
Monique brushed out my hair, looking at me in the mirror. Her soft, calm face did ease my frazzled nerves a little. Her smooth actions tugged at me, forcing my shoulders to relax just a little.
“It will be okay,” she kept saying.
I gazed at her reflection. I was guessing those four little words were her mantra. I could imagine her muttering them to herself over and over again when things got bad.
Closing my eyes, I tried to think of a mantra of my own, something that could get me through this hell. I wouldn’t accept. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t buy into this life and be okay with it!
I wouldn’t let people use me this way.
My shoulders slumped.
Who was I kidding? I always let people use me.
Kaplan.
I’d played right into her hands, let her chip away at my soft, compassion
ate side and then let her blackmail me when it all got too much. And what had she done? Cut me loose. Left me to suffer while she no doubt stole the glory for finding those girls.
I’d found them and I didn’t need any glory, but I most definitely didn’t deserve this.
I didn’t get angry easily. I was used to burying it, not wanting to upset anybody...always trying to please, and look where it got me.
My lips pinched into a thin line.
I’d lost everything because I couldn’t stand up to Kaplan and just say no.
But then I wouldn’t have found those girls...
My face crumpled. This agonizing dichotomy was cruel. Of course I'd wanted those young girls safely home with their parents, but I never asked to be stolen.
The door swung open. Monique and I glanced at the entranceway. Santiago stood there in a charcoal suit, his blue shirt and thin tie making him look quite the charmer.
I made a face and turned away from him.
“I said thirty minutes, and her makeup isn’t even on yet.”
“Sorry.” Monique rushed around me, fumbling with the makeup bag on the table.
“Don’t worry, Monique. He’s not going to hurt you.”
She stilled, looking at me with wide eyes.
“You remind him of his baby sister. This keeps you safe.” I touched her arm, forcing a smile.
Her round eyes went from me to Santiago and then back to the makeup kit, her cheeks turning pink. I looked across to Santiago who was giving me a dry glare.
I put on a plastic, cheesy grin just to piss him off. I didn’t know why I was being so ballsy. So the guy threatened to make me suffer. I was suffering! And it wasn’t like I was being disobedient by telling her the truth. He wanted my eyes? Well, he got them.
“Glaring at me won’t change the truth,” I muttered. I was about to turn back so Monique could start on my face, but a flash of movement caught my eye and the fear I’d been holding at bay rocketed through my body.
Poker Face (The Masks Series Book 4) Page 18
