by Avery Hawkes
I strained to see if there was anyone else in the place. As I turned my head, I saw a figure standing on a far hallway, arms crossed against his chest. It was the club owner, Luca. He had saved my life and why, I didn't know. He watched with a worried brow from the sidelines, which didn't seem like a good sign.
"You aren't going to escape," Matteo said as he positioned himself closer to me. He took another puff from his cigarette, then held it between his fingers. "So you shouldn't bother trying."
His hand slowly lowered itself with the lit cigarette. The ember stopped an inch away from my thigh. My body was bracing itself for the pain, but it didn't come. Matteo stared into my eyes.
"Let's make this clear. Tonight you're my bitch. You'll do as I say and tell me the truth. Is that clear?"
Bitch? Bitch, I was not. I knew what was going to happen, even if I had nothing to hide. Matteo looked like he had been waiting years for the opportunity to tear me apart, piece-by-piece, for little more than being a dumb high-school kid. The side of my mouth twitched, but I didn't reply to him.
Matteo kicked the metal chair, making me lurch in my seat. The sound of the metal legs scratching against the floor echoed the vast room.
"I said," he growled, "is that clear?"
"Crystal," I muttered back through gritted teeth. That seemed to be enough for him. He took another few drags from his cigarette and coughed out a large plume of smoke at me.
"Great. Now, who are you working for?" He waited for my answer.
"Hermann and Son's Auto Repair," I replied. "Previously the Marine Corps. Just retired―Ah!"
That bastard had pressed the burning cigarette into my thigh, searing my skin underneath. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.
"I don't like it when people lie to me, Lance." He said my name with such disdain, like it was some hideous word that he'd rather not have pass through his mouth.
"I'm not lying."
He glanced at his cigarette and re-lit it, having put out the ember on my thigh. It had left a nasty red mark on my skin. He took another breath of smoke in, then lowered the tip toward the skin on my other thigh.
White-hot pain hit me once more. This time, it was easier. My pain tolerance had always been pretty good. Something in me had always prepared myself for a moment like this overseas. However, I had been readying myself for the methods of the Taliban, not some gang from New Jersey.
"Dammit―" I took a few deep breaths. "You're going to be disappointed, boss. I have NOTHING."
"The more you lie, the less patience for you I'll have." He turned around in the seat and motioned to what was next to him on the small table. Sitting on it, was a rolled-up black canvas bag. He untied it, then unrolled the canvas. Attached to the inside of the bag, were multiple sizes of knives and other sharp-pointy objects.
"You have a torture kit?" I chuckled, "Did Daddy give you it for Christmas?"
Note to self, don't make fun of the man with the sharp, pointy things.
He stood up and hit me across the face with his fist. My head whipped the other way and I could taste the iron tang of blood in my mouth. I spat on the floor, the red dripping from my lips. Fuck, that hurt. I wasn't going to let him get the fulfillment of seeing me give up.
I straightened myself in the chair and waited for the next question like nothing had happened. Matteo's chest was heaving as he stood over me. He wanted nothing more than to pummel my face in, but something held him back from doing so. In the corner of my vision I glanced at Luca, he was standing and watching, probably the reason I wasn't in a ditch somewhere.
"I'll do you a favor," Matteo said. "You answer my questions, and you'll leave here alive. If I had it my way, you'd be dead right now." He frowned, looking over the knife selection casually. He was savoring the moments he had to scare me. Too bad I was having none of it.
"Please," I laughed, my shoulders rising and falling. "If I admit to anything, I'm dead. You can't tell me I'll ever leave this place alive."
Matteo didn't say anything, but his eyes betrayed him.
If I didn't find a way to free myself, I was a dead man. Until then, I'd just have to take the pain.
A loud ringing sound echoed through the room. As Matteo picked out one of the knives to use on me, his brother answered a phone call.
"Yes," he said, trying to keep his voice low. Even so, it was amplified in the large chamber. "We have him, no … No! Don't you dare―! Rosa!"
Upon hearing her name, my stomach dropped. If I was going to die tonight, then she would be alone. Rosabella would have to raise the baby without a father. Her only influence would be the type of men who stood before me. Men who didn't raise an eyebrow to torturing someone to get what he wanted. If anything scared me about the situation I was in, it was leaving what little family I had started.
Luca pressed the button on his phone to hang up, then walked clear across the room to the entrance. He slid the door open, light streaming through from the outside for less than a second. With a click, I was left alone with my torturer.
"Let's try this again," He said, turning to show me a sharp knife. I watched as he walked around behind me, then lowered the blade to my fingernails. Damn it, I knew what was coming for me. I could feel his breath in my ear as he said, "who do you work for?"
The next few minutes were a blur of pain as he wedged the knife underneath my fingernail. My jaw was clenched so much that my teeth were starting to hurt as I tried to work through all the pain. It was too much. I tried to breath through my mouth, but would yell out whenever he would push it further in, millimeter by millimeter.
"Who do you work for?" he repeated.
"God Dammit!” I yelled back at him, "No one!"
More pain. Sweat dripped from my brow and down onto my burnt thighs. There was nothing I could really say that would make things better for me. If I gave in to him and lied about my involvement, I was dead. If I told him a random gang was behind the crash, I was dead. If I told Matteo about my relationship with his sister, I was more than dead.
Instead, I took the pain, my mind trying its hardest to figure out a way for escape. There wasn't much I could do, since Matteo was focusing on my hands. Becoming free of my bonds would be difficult if he could see me wriggle free. When I had a moment free of pain, I glanced around for anything I could possibly use. I was starting to ponder trying to push the chair backwards to overtake Matteo, when I head the large front door open again.
There was yelling and a scuffle at the entrance, but then a figure ran into the room toward me. I instantly recognized her beautiful blond hair as it flowed behind her. She was being chased my Luca, but she didn't seem to care. The clicking of her heels filled the room as she sprinted over to us.
The knife left my nail and I grunted in pain as Matteo hid the blade behind his back. Blood dripped down to the floor in a small puddle.
"Get away from him!" her voice was shrill and loud. I shook my head, trying to get her to stop yelling. "What are you doing?"
"What the hell?" Matteo sounded more miffed than anything, acting like Rosabella had interrupted a football game rather than a torture session. He locked eyes with Luca who jogging in behind her, obviously out of breath. "How did she get in?"
"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop her. She just―"
Rosa cut off Luca, stepping forward to look at the damage her brother had done to me. Tears were filling her eyes and it hurt me that she had to see it. I was bloodied and bruised all over and it wasn't the prettiest of sights for a lady.
"What have you done?" her voice trembled with fury. Her brother walked around me, leaving the dagger in a back pocket so she couldn't see. He wiped blood on his pants before raising his arms out in a sign of peace.
"We're just asking him some questions sis, then he'll be free to go."
"It doesn’t look like you’re just asking him questions," she replied. He grabbed her upper arm and turned her around, trying to pull her away from me. As they were trying to get Rosa to leave, I realized that it w
as my chance to try to free myself from the zip-tie handcuffs. They had done a quick job of tying me up, and all that was in the way of my freedom was a tiny piece of plastic.
"This is the man who tried to murder your sister," Matteo told Rosa, pulling her toward the door.
"No he's not!" she yelled, trying to yank her arm free from him. Her brother was starting to become annoyed and pushed her toward Luca.
"Take her back home," he said, before turning back toward me. One of my untouched fingernails had found the mechanism that released the zip tie. I was pressing against it as much as I could without hurting my wrists, while trying to pull them apart. They resisted at first, then when I was able to figure out the release, the tie loosened inch by inch.
I watched as Rosa fought against her brother, ribbing him in the stomach to free herself. As soon as she was out, she ran toward Matteo. She was livid, madder than I had ever seen her. Actually, I was more afraid for him than I was for Rosa, even if he had a weapon on him.
"Stay away from him!" Rosa screamed, tugging at her brother's arm. I watched as his face turned dark and my blood ran cold. Even if she was his sister didn't mean he would put up with her trying to keep him from his prey. His body turned and I watched as he raised his arm up and then brought it down across Rosa's face.
A scream escaped her beautiful lips and she fell down, hitting the cold concrete below. He had slapped her so hard that he had hurt his own hand.
"Know your place," he spat to her as he held his wrist. She stayed on the ground, her hand touching the spot where he'd hit her. Rosa had turned into a timid little mouse, shocked that her brother had hit her. As I watched her tremble on the floor, rage started to build within me.
That bastard was a dead man walking.
Matteo yelled back at his brother to pick up Rosa and take her away. In that moment, I had released my bonds. Instead of instantly freeing myself, I waited. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, sitting there while Rosa cried on the floor and her brothers bickered above her. But in order to get away, to help her, I had to wait for the perfect moment.
When Rosabella had been gathered up and taken a few feet away, Matteo was finally ready to return to his work.
"Sorry for the delay," he said, stepping close enough for me to reach. I let the ties fall to the floor. Time slowed down as I reached forward, legs still bound to the chair, and grabbed Matteo by the collar. His eyes widened as he realized I was free, and reached around to try and grab the knife out of his pocket. All he found was denim. Behind him, the blade flashed in Rosa's hand. She had taken it out of his back pocket while he wasn't looking. Smart girl.
Whack.
I slammed my head into his, once, then twice. After, I threw him down on the cement. He grumbled, trying to get up, but then fell back down to the floor, too dizzy from the head-butt to do much. I was light headed as well, but that didn't matter much. Seeing the scramble, Rosa pushed her brother away and ran to me.
"Lance!" she yelled, her baby-blue eyes watering. She was worried about me and it was adorable as fuck. "Are you alright Lance?"
"I'm fine, just a little tied up at the moment," I motioned below to my feet. She nodded, then used the blade she had stolen from Matteo to cut me loose. I stood up and before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, Rosa jumped me. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me on the lips. I allowed myself a few seconds to embrace her back, smell her sweet scent, and kiss her like my life depended on it.
When I pulled back, her face was full of worry. "We have to run, get out of here. Let's go!" She took my hand and started to pull me away, but as she did there was a loud clanking sound. The two doors on the second floor had opened.
They had lead to walkways to other buildings, and out of the doors spewed men in dark jackets. They had automatic weapons and all were pointed at me and Rosa. In a mater of seconds, two dozen men had lined up in the loft of the second floor, guns trained on us.
I stood in front of Rosa, shielding her with my body. She was shaking, I could feel her hands as they touched my upper arm. All of them were crooks, men trained to kill. I knew that training when I saw it. They stood at ready, waiting for something. What, I didn't know, until a figure stepped through the door.
It was Rosa's Father. His suit was a bit dirty, but he still looked professional. He stepped up, looking down at the scene below him.
"Please step away from my daughter." His voice was emotionless; like ice or stone. We were both as still as statues. Well, except for Matteo who groaned while clutching his head on the ground.
"Step away from my daughter and your death will be clean and swift," Mr. Rossi said, lifting his hand up. The men cocked their weapons.
"No!" Rosabella yelled, stepping in front of me. I shook my head and opened my mouth to tell her to stop, but she glared at me, telling me to be silent with a glance. I watched as she stood in front of me and raised her arms out to block as much of me with her body as she could.
"You will not shoot this man." she told her father, her words just as icy as his. Like father like daughter, I guess.
"You're being silly Rosa. This man has hurt you, Regina, and your brother," he motioned down to Matteo. "I will not stand for it."
"You're wrong!" Rosa yelled back at him. It seemed like she was gaining confidence with each word. Her father looked at the men and held out a flat hand, then lowered it. He was telling them to stand down. Their guns lowered, no longer trained on the young woman who defended me.
"Wrong about what?" he replied.
"Lance isn't the one who is responsible for Regina's accident, I am." she took a deep breath. I placed a hand on her shoulder for support. Mr. Rossi stood above us, his mouth slightly open. It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.
"Explain," he demanded.
"Regina and I have been … fighting," she said. She sounded strong and courageous as she stood up to her father. "She didn't like that I was the one who received Auntie's inheritance. It's been really difficult. Recently, Regina found out something … a secret that would allow her to get the money, rather than me."
Rosabella reached down and took my hand, lacing it in hers. As I watched her father, I couldn't pick up on any emotions. He was still, like a wall as he listened to what Rosa was saying. Some of the men shifted uncomfortably with their weapons.
Rosa continued.
"Lance and I started seeing each other. We've known each other since we were teenagers and well, one thing lead to another and … I found out I was pregnant."
Mr. Rossi turned white as a sheet and gripped the metal bar of the walkway, but he still waited. I was wondering if he'd give the order to shoot anyway after learning about the pregnancy. But he stayed calmer than I had expected.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was scared … " she sighed, "I've been feeling really trapped in our house. Like a bird, stuck in a cage. The inheritance was my way to be on my own. Anyway, the will said that I couldn't collect the money if I had a child out of wedlock. Regina knew that once I figured out I was pregnant, I would keep the baby and that Lance would want to step up and marry me …."
She looked up at me and smiled. Her smile gave me hope as we stood in front of a small Mafia army. It was a beacon of light in the darkness of the warehouse that set my very being on fire with love for her.
Yes. Love. The sticky-sweet, Hollywood sort of love that made me want to gag. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Rosa was all there was, the most amazing woman I had ever met.
"So she decided to keep us from getting married by trying to get Lance killed. She knew you would stop at nothing to kill anyone who tried to hurt her. "
"Are you sure?" Her father had finally found his words, but his voice wavered. It didn't have the same power it had only a few minutes ago.
"I'm positive," she replied. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I should have just told them to give the inheritance to the rest of the family."
There was a moment of calm that spread th
roughout the room. Mr. Rossi had his hand on his chin, stroking his short salt-and-pepper beard. We stood tall in front of him and I hoped that Rosa's words had at least helped. After a couple minutes of deliberation, he started to make his way to the metal staircase that lead down to the ground floor.
The men with guns stood above us, looming just in case something went wrong, or her father changed her mind.
When Mr. Rossi made it to the ground floor, he stepped up to look us up and down. Then, he moved until he was only a few inches away from my face. He stared me down like the drill sergeants used to when I was in the military. I simply looked forward, waiting for what he had to say.
"Is it true? Did you DEFILE my daughter?" His voice shook with anger.
"Sir, I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, but your daughter means the world to me. I want to do what's right by your daughter and by our child. If you allow it, I would like to take Rosa as my wife."
Then I waited for whatever onslaught awaited me. He looked like he wanted to hit me at first, or grab one of the knives that were laid out on the table and stick it in my jugular vein. He didn't do any of those things. Instead, he turned to Rosa.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes, Father," she replied.
Mr. Rossi then turned his head so that he was staring me down once more, trying to intimidate me. "Do you love her?"
It was funny, the word love had never passed between Rosa and me, but I knew the answer instantly.
"Yes sir," I said. "I love her very much."
He stepped back, his mouth a thin line. Then he reached his hand out for me to shake. "Then, let us start over."
I took his hand and shook it firmly. Next to me, Rosabella's smile was bright and contagious. Before I realized it, I was grinning from ear-to-ear.
"Thank you, sir."
"It looks like I've misjudged the situation," he sighed. "We'll settle everything and get to the bottom of this, I promise you both. We can talk more when we get home." He made a motion with his hand, and the two dozen men started to make their way out of the room, no longer needed.
