“Señor Decena,” I answered.
“Status.”
Abrupt and to the point, that was the man who ruthlessly controlled the Los Zetas. If our friendship hadn’t been formed under the circumstances it had, he might not have tolerance for my delay in the retrieval of a man he was itching to kill.
“I’ve met with him.”
“And?”
“And . . .” I stalled, walking around Algis’ putrid body, “we’ll be at the warehouse in . . .” Glancing at my watch, I quickly calculated the time I would need. “Thirty-two hours.”
“What’s the hold up?”
“I found a broken doll.”
Silence followed.
“How broken?”
“I’m in the process of fixing it.”
Charlie huffed out an impatient breath of air.
“You don’t have time to play doctor, Hart. Get on with it. Algimas is mine to kill, sooner rather than later.”
“I can probably bring that thirty-two down to twenty-eight,” I offered. It should be enough time for Beauty to do what she needed to do.
Charlie went silent again. “What the fuck are you doing, Hart?”
He sounded tired, which was completely unlike Charlie Decena.
“She’s . . . special. Trust me to take care of this.”
“If it were anyone else . . .”
He didn’t finish, and he didn’t need to. Our bond gave me a little more leeway than most, but even with that friendship, there was only so much bullshit that Charlie would put up with. The line went dead, and I slipped the phone into my back pocket.
“What the fuck do you want?”
The weary tenor brought a smile to my lips, and my head rose to take in the haggard face of Algimas. Deep bruises hung under his eyes, but they still held the fire of a powerful man whose rage was only held back by the predicament in which he found himself.
“Thirsty?” I asked, grabbing a bottled water I had procured from the fridge in the kitchen.
“You’re going to allow me water?”
“Can’t have you dying before we reach Mr. Decena.”
Angling the bottle toward his lips, I poured and watched as the wretched bastard tried to get as much of the liquid as possible. Most of it trickled down his front, but he managed a few mouthfuls before I pulled the water away. I was only giving him enough to keep him alive. I didn’t want him thriving . . . or thinking I gave a shit.
“People will be looking for me,” he spluttered.
“People like Matis?” I asked.
Algimas didn’t reply, but the confidence in his eyes told me I’d hit the nail on the head.
“He’s lying dead in your living room. Bled out from a cut . . . well, a few cuts I guess you could say. Nine to be precise. I’m not sure you’ll get that stain out of the carpet.”
“You killed him?” he hissed, affronted by my confession in a way that made me wonder if they had been more than employer and employee. Perhaps their friendship hadn’t been unlike that of mine and Charlie’s. Or maybe, just maybe, Matis’ apparent hatred of Beauty had more to do with jealousy?
“I did,” I answered truthfully. “In fact, I saved him from a quick, painless death when Beauty threatened to shoot him in the head. She watched, you know. Enraptured is the only way I could describe the look on her face.”
Fury had the man’s body move without consent, and he screamed at the pain radiating from his shoulders. Turning, I moved to the bin to discard the water bottle, enjoying every dulcet tone in his cries.
“Maybe we can come to some sort of an arrangement?”
Algimas’ voice, though quiet and through gritted teeth, echoed off the walls. It was always the same when death came knocking. Protest, resentment, bribery, and eventually begging. Whatever they could conjure in their tiny little minds to get them out of their predicament, to escape my wrath when it whispered so closely, or in this case, Decena’s wrath. There would be no bartering, but I was more than happy to play a game with the rapist arsehole. Giving him a fleeting chance and then abruptly yanking it away would be fun. Ordinarily, I would just beat him until his teeth were spat from his mouth and his breath was rasping through broken ribs, but I was leaving all of that for Beauty. He was hers to break. Turning, I strolled forward with my hands resting behind my back, feigning interest as I came to a stop directly before his hanging body.
“What did you have in mind?”
Eyes lit with hope, Algimas lifted his head and winced when his body jostled just slightly.
“Five million American dollars and my US property portfolio.”
A rare bark of laughter left my lips. Money? If he’d heard the rumors about me, he would know it was something I was not in short supply of. Hope turned to anger, and he snarled, “I’ll throw in the girl, for free.”
Shaking my head, my smile disappeared at the mention of Beauty.
“Algimas, I want for nothing, and the girl?” My hands slipped free to hang loosely by my sides. “She’s already mine, and I didn’t have to beat her or rape her to make it so.”
The muscles in my body tensed, my fist curled, and I pulled my arm back before letting in fly forward, a hammer of a punch landing on his jaw. The crunch was highly satisfying, the tooth spat to the floor and blood oozing down his chin sublime.
“You have nothing I want,” I whispered in his ear as his head hung forward, shaking out my fist. “You disgust me, and once you are dead and buried, I will transfer every cent you own to a convent in Italy for abused women.”
“I have another.”
His words were slurred, but I heard them and stilled. Another? This sick fuck had another girl? Stepping back, I looked into his eyes, wanting and needing to see the truth in them.
“Blonde hair, blue eyes. Thirteen, young, ripe for the taking. I’ve already paid and the contract is signed. Let me go, and I’ll give her to you.”
Stomach rolling with repugnance, my temper lashed at my insides like a barbed whip, begging to be set free. This pathetic excuse for a human had destroyed one life and was preparing to destroy another. Deep breaths in and out through my nose, I kept staring, trying to wrap my mind around such sick desires. From where were they born?
Why?
Algimas shifted with nervous tension, intimidated by my silence. If the money had been transferred, then someone must already have the girl.
Who?
She obviously wasn’t in Algimas’ possession. So . . .
Where?
Arching a brow, I watched as Algimas opened his mouth to speak, though no words came out. Instead, I got a glimpse of blood stained teeth. Then he smirked.
“I can see you’re interested. Not so immune to unwilling pussy after all.”
It took every ounce of patience and resistance I possessed not to kill him right there and then. He thought he had me hooked. What Algimas couldn’t see for the mountains of arrogance he possessed was the hate that burned inside me for men like him. He was so close to death, I could smell it.
“How do I know you’re not fucking with me?”
“I was bored of Beauty, she’s getting too old, too used. I paid for the new acquisition a month ago. She’s perfect, the similarity to Beauty uncanny. The evidence is on my computer.”
“Password?”
“Let me down, and I’ll key it in.”
Shaking my head, I grinned. “Doesn’t work that way. Proof that the girl exists first, then you transfer her to me, then I might let you go.”
“How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”
“You don’t. Is it a chance you’re willing to take? How badly do you want down from those chains, hmmm?”
He wasn’t getting out of the chains, and if he had the faintest idea who I was, he should have realized that. Hope could be a twisted bitch, though. Hope made smart men do dumb things. Or perhaps Algimas was simply obtuse.
“I get to keep Beauty.”
Not a chance in hell. I’d cut out his t
ongue and nail his cock to the wall before I let him anywhere near my beauty. “Sure, I have no need for used pussy.”
Algimas was quiet for a moment, probably wondering if he could trust me. He couldn’t, but that fragile thread of hope meant he would.
“B-E-A-U-T-Y-1-9-8-9-$-T-O-Y.”
10
BEAUTY
I have no need for used pussy.
The words bounced around my mind on a never-ending loop, wrapping unforgiving fingers around my heart and squeezing. As I raced through the manor, headed for Algis’ study, I tried to figure out why. Those words shouldn’t surprise me, they shouldn’t hurt, and yet they did. They hurt worse than anything Algis and his asshole friends ever said, and they’d said some awful things. I think I knew what the problem was. I allowed myself to think Hart might care, and I hated that weakness. He was using me. I was a means to an end, and that end was to inevitably hand me back to the man who had worked so hard at destroying me. I wouldn’t allow it. Matis’ gun still rested in my hand, its weight the sweetest of comforts. If Hart or Algis tried to capture me, I’d kill them, and I was to the point where I didn’t care if their death was fast and painless, they’d simply cease to exist. First, I needed to find out the location of the girl who Algis had purchased. At just thirteen-years-old, the world as she knew it was about to be ruthlessly ripped apart. I couldn’t allow anyone else suffer as Lucy and I had.
Like the rest of the home, the study had a glossy modern look with mostly white furnishings. I’d only been in this room a couple of times, and the memories of what happened in here were not something I wanted to recall. Instead, I focused on the large glass-top desk with a sleek white leather chair behind it. The wide computer screen sat right in the middle of the table, the insignia on its back an Apple logo. Sitting down, I glanced at the device looking for a switch. A white depressed button that could almost be lost in its white surroundings caught my eye, and I pressed it. Within seconds I was staring at a photo of myself, and bile pushed its way up my throat. Turning to one side, I threw up all over the carpeted floor. My recollection of the photo being taken was non-existent. From the glassed-over look in my desperate eyes, I’d probably been drugged. Wiping my mouth, I glanced back at the screen and shuddered. Heavy, dark makeup around my eyes was smudged, leaving black tear tracks down my cheeks. Dark lipstick was smeared across one cheek, a ball gag held in place between my lips, the straps cutting into the flesh of my cheeks. Hanging from supports in the dungeon, my private parts were exposed, Algis’ fist between my legs. Squeezing my eyes closed, I hid from the photo and those damn desolate eyes.
A scream built from deep down inside me, and a roar of pain for the degradation was torn from my chest as I yelled into the empty room. Standing, I picked up a glass vase and threw it, loving the sound of it shattering against the wall. Reaching for a brushed, stainless steel lamp, I pulled the cord from the wall and threw it, too.
“Beauty.”
The biting use of my name caught my attention, and I swung around, lifting my arm to point the gun at the man who stood watching me from the doorway. With his shoulders proudly pressed back, chin lowered, he was looking at me through narrowed lids, he looked intimidating. His confidence wasn’t exactly quiet, but neither was it screaming boldly. I thought I’d liked that strength and resolve, it made me feel safe. His betrayal blurred any feelings that had begun to take root, though. He was just like all the others.
“We need that computer, so best we not destroy it, hmmm?” He seemed completely uninterested in the gun currently resting on him.
“Fuck you.”
The corner of Hart’s mouth twitched.
“If you need to blow off steam, I would suggest you let that rage out on Algimas.”
“I won’t go back to him,” I hissed, my voice tight with emotion.
Slow recognition had his eyes widening by just a fraction.
“You heard.”
When he took a step into the room, my hand shook and I raised my other hand to help hold the gun steady, scared that if I did shoot him I might miss. I couldn’t miss. I refused to.
“And no, you won’t. Algimas will be delivered to Mr. Decena, as planned.”
“Used pussy,” I spat out, frantic with each step he took further into the room.
“Beauty.” The rasping voice purred seductively, the gentle command in his tone had me wanting to lower the gun. But my will to live and hate for Algis was greater. “Those words were to help gain information and held no truth. Have I given you any reason not to trust me?”
“You haven’t given me any reason to trust you.”
“Touché,” he murmured, coming to a standstill right in front of the desk. We stood like that for what felt like the longest time, the glass between us a fragile barrier. I would have preferred a giant wall, thick and high. Even with the gun, I felt weak in this man’s presence, and I outright hated feeling weak.
“I have no respect for a man who forces a woman.” Though his facial features were still carefully blank, his eyes held a tortured, besieging look I knew too well. I’d just seen eyes like that on the computer screen in front of me. “And I have absolutely zero tolerance for anyone who harms a child.” Steel resolve laced his words. But words could be deceiving. I needed more.
“I was a child when I was taken, fifteen-years-old, just a girl. Nobody cared, and I asked for help, I begged for it, and all it got me was raped and beaten. What makes you so special?”
Hart huffed out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, his quick, agitated movements catching me by surprise, the gun in my hand jerking.
“Careful, Beauty. Once you pull that trigger, there is no going back.”
“I know,” I whispered. I didn’t really want to pull the trigger, not like I wanted to with Matis and Algis. For the first time, in as long as I could remember, I wanted to trust someone. I wanted someone to have my back, just once. I needed that. With a long sigh, Hart let his hands slip from behind his neck and shoved them deep into his pockets.
“I’ve been there,” he muttered, his words almost indiscernible.
“Where?”
“There,” he snapped. “Trapped, captive . . . hurt.” Imploring eyes met mine. He wanted me to understand without saying it aloud. The tremble in my hands was still there, my arms aching with the weight of the weapon. Disbelief washed over me. Not possible. There was no way this powerful, controlled man could have ever been held captive. “I was thirteen, and my mother had died of ovarian cancer leaving me with a perverted fucking, piece of shit stepfather who allowed his friends to use me.”
Imagining this proud man as a vulnerable child being hurt in such a way brought tears to my eyes.
“Don’t pity me,” he scoffed, echoing my sentiment from when we met.
Swallowing down my sympathy, I asked, “Is that when your monster was let out?”
Hart gave me one sharp nod, but he offered no more. I understood. Shame, loathing, hate, they were emotions that came with rape and abuse. I didn’t care to share my shame anymore than he did. Lowering the weapon, I shook my head with weary frustration.
“What do you plan to do with me?”
Hart sighed, as if also exhausted. Straightening, his armor back in place and his monster roiling like a waking dragon behind those intense eyes, he looked down on me through lowered lashes.
“We finish the job and move on to the next.” We? Hart nodded as if hearing my unspoken question. “You and me, we’re the same, Beauty. We’ve lived through shit nobody should ever have to live through. Our thirst for blood is strong and will never be entirely satisfied, because our monsters will always be there wanting more. More lives, more death, more revenge.”
Did I believe I’d always feel this overpowering need to destroy, to hurt? I didn’t know, but the feeling had been with me for so long I couldn’t imagine not living with it. Watching Hart kill Matis had been hypnotic. The thought of gutting Algis didn’t make me cringe. It was quite the opposite, I rejoiced at
the thought. Could I take another life, that of someone who hadn’t hurt me? Possibly. And I didn’t hate the thought of staying with Hart and working with him, though I did wonder what he wanted in exchange.
“So, we what? Travel together? Live together?” My quietly asked question was hesitant, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. Hart nodded and anxiety assailed me. “What do you want in exchange?”
“Nothing,” he was quick to murmur.
“Everybody wants something.”
“Business partners,” Hart offered. “If you need a label on it, that’s probably the closest you’ll get at the moment. I’ll pay you a wage, and you’ll work for me.”
“Doing what?” I wondered out loud. “I have no idea how to make coffee.”
Hart laughed, loudly, the noise catching me by surprise. It was a robust sound of carefree joy that seemed at odds with the man it came from.
“I don’t drink coffee, I prefer tea, and I’m more than capable of making it myself. You will help me hunt.”
Hunt? Animals? I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Hart chuckled again and shook his head.
“Of a kind, the human kind. Bad animals, Beauty, the kind that need putting down.”
It was all so confusing, but I wouldn’t be whoring myself out, or making coffee or tea, so that was a plus. Perhaps I could test the waters of this “partnership.” Getting paid sounded nice. I didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions. Hart stepped around the desk, taking care to step around my vomit, which he ignored, along with the broken glass. With firm but gentle hands he maneuvered me aside and sat down before the computer. A scowl formed on his lips when he found the picture of me staring back, however, he didn’t offer me platitudes of comfort, which in itself was a comfort.
“I know someone who can make that disappear,” he mumbled as he entered the password into Algis’ computer. “If the images have been shared, he can track them down and get rid of them.”
Beauty: Part 1: Blaire's World (Beauty's Duet #1) Page 7
