by Beck, J. L.
I pick up the knife from the floor and take it into the bathroom with me. I put the knife down long enough to strip out of my blood-soaked dress. Then I pick the knife back up and get in the shower. Holding on to the smooth silver handle of the steak knife while standing under the spray, I watch as the water turns from red to pink, and then clear.
When I’m clean of all the blood, I get out of the shower, dry off and hurry back into my room. I pull on a pair of leggings, sports bra, T-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes.
Tucking the knife into the waistband of my leggings, I go to the bedroom door. Opening it a crack, I listen for anyone that may be close by, especially guards. Matteo may have lessened them in the days since Zane left, but there is still a heavy presence, especially tonight.
Stepping into the hall, I lock the door and close it firmly behind me. It’s now or never. At the end of the hall is a laundry shoot that leads into the laundry room, which is just off the maids’ quarters. I know this because I had accidentally walked down there one day while checking out the mansion. Opening the wooden door that hides the shoot, I look down into the dark tunnel.
My heart clatters in my chest, but I know I have to do this. Climbing into the shoot, I grip the edge of the door, my fingers biting into the wood a second before I let go. I can’t breathe, can’t see, and all I want to do is scream as I slide through the dark on my belly.
All too soon, the ride is over, and I land in a heap of clothes and sheets, the air expelling from my chest upon landing.
I can’t believe I just did that.
Climbing out of the pile, I scurry to my feet and look around the room for the nearest exit. When I spot the door and walk to it, all I can do is hope and pray that it’s unlocked. I reach for the brass doorknob and wrap my fingers around the cold metal. My heart pounding out of my chest in anticipation. It turns, and I push the door open. I sigh in relief when the brisk fresh air blows through my hair.
For a few seconds, I just stand there, breathing in and calming myself before I poke my head out carefully. Looking left and right, I don’t see any guards. I slowly walk outside and close the door behind me. Almost… I’ve almost made it.
With the key heavy in my pocket, I sneak around the house, staying as close to the wall and in the shadows as I can. Most cars are parked on the lawn in the front yard, and that is where I’m heading.
When I get to the edge of the makeshift parking lot, I take out the key fob and hit the unlock button. Like a beacon in the dark, headlights start to flash a few rows down, and I weave through the cars to get to them.
I climb into the luxury car and push the key into the ignition with a shaking hand. It turns, and the car roars to life. I buckle up quickly before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the spot.
Heading for the main gate, I let possible scenarios of the next ten minutes run through my mind. If everything goes according to plan, the guards will just wave me through, thinking that I’m Alberto. If they see that it’s not him and try to stop me, I will hit the gas and hope for the best. Worst case scenario, they shoot at the car and kill me… I don’t want to think about that. No, that’s not going to happen. I will make it out of here.
I approach the gate, and as hoped, as soon as they see the car, one of them motions to open the gate. It isn’t until I’m only a few feet away that he can look into the windshield and realize that it’s not Alberto driving the car.
Pushing my foot down all the way, the engine revs up, and the car jolts to the front. Both guards pull their guns just as I speed past them. I hear the shots; I feel something hitting the car, but I keep driving. My eyes are wide open, I don’t think I even blinked the last few minutes. My blood pumps through my veins furiously as the car accelerates even further. I look down at the speedometer, which reads ninety-eight miles per hour. This is the fastest I’ve ever driven, but it’s still not fast enough.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I don’t see anyone following me yet. I caught them by surprise. Good. That gives me a head start. I have no doubt that they will come after me.
I don’t take my foot off the pedal. All I can think about is getting away.
I will get away. I will be free, and I will be back in Zane’s arms.
19
Looking up, I squint my eyes at the bright neon letters reading Nightshift. I don’t know how exactly I ended up here, or why I’m here at all. Sure as hell, isn’t because of the naked women dancing on the stage. Even after Dove ripped my heart out and trampled it, she is still the only one for me. I can’t even think of another woman.
Maybe because it’s the only place I know I can keep drinking without getting jumped by Christian’s guys. They wouldn’t dare set a foot into Damon Rossi’s strip club.
My head is swimming, my mind clouded from the enormous amount of alcohol I’ve already consumed. Still, I want more. I want to drown myself in it just to make the pain go away.
Stepping inside, the smell of cigars, expensive liquor, and cheap perfume hits me. I’m barely inside when a half-naked woman greets me with fuck me eyes and pouty lips.
“Not interested,” I slur, brushing her off before pushing past her. She says something, but I ignore her, heading straight to the bar instead. I take a seat and wave the waitress over. Quickly, I realize that I saw her last time I was here.
“Here to see Damon again?” she yells over the music.
“Not today. Just pour me a whiskey.”
“Whiskey coming right up,” she chirps, way to happily for my taste. It’s almost like she enjoys working here. Who the fuck likes working in a strip club?
A few moments later, I have a large glass of amber liquid shoved in front of me. I murmur a thanks before I grab the glass and bring it to my libs. Taking a huge gulp, I let the alcohol burn down my throat, enjoying the way the warmth spreads out through my insides when it settles in my stomach.
My vision is already blurry as I look around. My gaze catches on two men on the other side of the bar. They’re watching one of the strippers doing her dance routine on stage with hungry eyes. A little bit too hungry for an innocent show like this.
When the song is over, and the girl walks off the stage after collecting her money off the ground, the two guys look like they’re about to jump her. She gives them a smile as she walks by, and that seems to be enough of an invite for them to grab her and pull her between them.
Even with the music blaring over the speakers loudly, I can hear her squeal in surprise, followed by her asking them to let her go. Her resistance doesn’t seem to bother either of the guys, since they just move in closer, caging her in between their bodies.
Slamming my glass against the countertop, I get off my seat and walk around the L-shaped bar quickly. Grabbing the first guy by the back of the neck, I pull him off the girl. He tries to twist in my hold while swinging at me, but I’ve already got my arm around his neck, holding him in a chokehold.
Before I can get this guy unconscious, his friend grabs the bar stool and lifts it in the air, swinging it at my head. Normally, I could have seen that move coming from a mile away, but in my current state, everything is fucked up.
I’m fucked up…
The hardwood lands with a crack against the side of my head that’s so hard, I’m surprised I don’t black out right then. I do, however, see stars. Releasing the guy, I stumble back and try to gather my bearings, but before I can do that, I’m being hit again, this time a meaty fist cuts across my face.
A woman’s scream pierces my ears as fists of fury rain down on me, clobbering every inch of my face. Pain is a welcomed feeling though. It blends with the pain that Dove caused me. I’m so gone now, I don’t think I could even bring my arms up to protect my face even if I wanted to. All I can do now is exist at this moment, and let the pain rule my life. The light inside my head flickers in and out, and I know it’s coming.
One more punch and the light goes out.
Darkness surrounds me, but I welcome it.
O
nly in my dreams can I be beside Dove again.
* * *
When I come to it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck before sliding down the side of a mountain face first. My face is throbbing so much so, I swear I can feel my heartbeat in the side of my head.
What the fuck happened?
The memories flicker through my mind like an old movie reel with some scenes missing, the film ripped apart. Dove… drinking… the bar… a fight. Either, I drank way more than I thought, or I got hit in the head pretty hard. On second thought, I’m sure it’s a combination of those two.
I pry my eyes open slowly, immediately thankful that there is not much light in this room. Blinking, I try to make sense of where I am. The room is bare, brick walls surround me, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m in a cell.
Fucking hell.
Sitting up, I’m forced to close my eyes yet again, as the entire room starts spinning. When I open my eyes this time, I see the iron bars, confirming that, indeed, I’m in a cell. There is nothing inside but a cot that is creaking beneath me with every move.
I look around the cell, scanning every inch before I get up. The only thing I find is a water bottle sitting next to my cot. I grab it, unscrew the cap and start drinking. My parched mouth welcomes the cool water. I don’t stop until the entire bottle is gone. Still, I feel more thirst. Damn, I’m dehydrated. Of course, that’s the least of my worries right now.
My first thought is Christian found me, but he would have probably killed me right away. Castro is my second thought, but why would he want me locked up? No, both of them would have either killed me right away, or I would have woken up to being tortured.
I push myself up to stand on unsteady feet. Swaying slightly, I walk to the iron bars so I can look up and down the hallway. At the far end, I see a man posted. As soon as he catches sight of me, he turns and starts to walk away from me.
“Hey, asshole!” I yell after him. Instead of getting a reaction out of him, I make my ears hurt. The sound echoes through the hallway, only intensifying my headache. Ugh.
Walking back to my cot, I sit down and try to gather my thoughts. Where the fuck am I, and how did I get here? Most importantly, how the hell will I get out of here?
A few minutes later, I hear someone approaching. Getting myself ready for a fight, I get up on my feet and let my hands form fists beside me. Every muscle in my body is tense when I see none other than Xander Rossi appear on the other side of the cell door.
“Good morning, Zane. Sobered up enough to behave?”
I’m so shocked at seeing him, that I’m speechless, but I’m even more shocked when he reaches in his pocket and fishes out a key to unlock the cell door. The door swings open, and he takes a step to the side, motioning for me to come out.
“Is this a joke?” I say, my voice raspy like I smoked a pack of cigarettes last night.
“Not at all. Let’s go, we have a lot to discuss.”
Hesitantly, I walk past him while anticipating an attack any moment now. He has to be joking. What could he possibly want with me? If he thinks I have some dirt on Christian or Matteo, he’s going to be wildly disappointed.
He makes me walk ahead of him, down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. When we get to a second hallway, and I don’t know which way to turn, he takes the lead and lets me walk behind him. I don’t miss that huge display of trust, him turning his back on me like that. He’s showing me that he trusts me, probably expecting me to trust him in return. The question is, why?
I’m shocked yet again when we turn the corner and go through another door. Looking around confused, I wonder if I’m still sleeping, and this is a dream because now I’m standing in a foyer of a mansion… I assume the Rossi mansion.
“Why am I here?”
“Let’s go sit down. I had my cook prepare some breakfast for you. I’ll explain everything while you eat.”
He leads me through the house and into a huge dining room. As he said, an array of breakfast food is spread out on the table. Part of me wants to refuse the food. I still don’t trust him, I have no reason to, but given my current state, sustenance will greatly benefit me.
We both take a seat. Xander pours himself a coffee, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee invades my senses. He pours me a cup as well, without asking if I even want one.
“Talk,” I order while taking up a fork and start eating the omelet in front of me.
I glance over at Xander, who is raising an eyebrow at me, clearly surprised by my lack of fear of him. After a moment, he starts talking anyway.
“As soon as I saw Dove, I couldn’t believe the resemblance she had to someone I know. I figured they had to be related in some way. I started digging when she was here, but I hit one dead end after the next. After I let Dove go, I kept looking. There was something about her that I was missing, and I couldn’t let it go.”
Where the fuck is he going with this story?
He pauses to grab something from the inside of his suit jacket and places it in front of me. My gaze falls onto the old photograph, and for a split second, I think it’s Dove looking back at me, but I quickly realize that the woman in the picture is a little bit older than Dove, her hair just a little bit lighter and her lips just a tad bit less full.
“Who is that?”
“My mother,” Xander says, and I almost drop my fork. “My first thought was that Dove had to be my mother’s daughter, but when Dove told me her age, it became an impossible scenario. Dove is twenty-one, and my mother died twenty-two years ago… or so we thought.”
“What do you mean?” I almost don’t want to ask. If Dove is not only related to Castro but also to Rossi, she’ll be forever caught between the two families.
“Like I said, I couldn’t let it go. So, after Dove left, I took her toothbrush and had her DNA tested, matched against mine. The test results confirmed that Dove is my sister.”
“Wow…” I don’t really know what else to say to that. “So… what does that mean for Dove?” From the frying pan into the fryer? Fuck, she will never be able to live a normal life.
“It means that I’m going to help you get her away from Castro. We’re going to take him down and protect her at all costs. She is my family, and I protect what’s mine.
At least one thing we can agree one.
20
I can’t believe that worked. I’m free at last, and I did it all on my own. Matteo’s men never caught up to me. I had too much of a head start. It takes forever for my heart to return to a steady beat and even longer for me to stop peering over my shoulder.
For the last couple hours or so, I’ve been driving around without a destination in mind, too focused on simply getting away. Now that I’m certain I’ve lost them, I need to find a place to go, and I need to find Zane. But how?
He doesn’t have a phone. I have no idea where he is staying or how I could get a hold of him. I could go back to the bunker if only I had a clue as to where it is. Shit. I hit the steering wheel with my hand. I should have thought of this before, but I was so busy playing the role of an obedient daughter that I didn’t think my plan through to the end.
The only place I can think to go is my apartment. Maybe he still checks the surveillance there? It’s a small chance, but that’s all I’ve got right now. At the very least, I can go and leave a note for him and hope that maybe that’s where he goes, once news breaks out that I escaped.
Taking the next turn, I drive deeper into the city, taking the long way to my apartment. I’m still on high alert, looking into the rearview mirror constantly, and scanning my surroundings for threats the entire time.
When my apartment building finally comes into view, a mixture of relief and fear washes over me. What if he had the same idea? Maybe he left me a note, or maybe, just maybe he is there waiting for me? I can only hope. I park two blocks down, not wanting to leave the car in front of my building. It’ll draw attention, and that’s the last thing I need right.
Getting out of t
he car, I walk down the sidewalk with my hand on my waistband, where the knife is hidden underneath. When I get to the front door, I raise my hand to ring my neighbor’s doorbell, hoping that someone is still awake and will let me in. But before I can push the small round button, the door flies open.
I reach for my knife, ready to protect myself, but quickly realize that it’s only the couple from the floor above me.
“Oh, hi,” Susan greets me in surprise. “We were worried about you.”
“Nothing to worry about.” I force a smile. “I’m fine just staying with a friend.”
“I’m sorry about the break-in,” James, her husband, says, “we called the cops when we heard the commotion downstairs, but when they got here, the burglars were already gone.”
“I’m just glad I wasn’t home,” I say, my tone honest.
“Well, let us know if you need anything. We’re heading out for a late-night pizza run.”
“Thank you, I will.” We say our goodbyes, and I move past them and into the hallway. Walking up to the apartment, my hands shake. When I reach the door, I find that it’s slightly ajar. It’s probably been that way since Christian’s men came and kicked it in. Assholes. I wonder if they found my stash of cash, or if they were too concerned about finding me to care? Probably the latter. Guess we’re about to find out.
The door creaks as I push it open, and my mouth pops open as I take in the chaos that is my apartment. Every single item is flipped over, all my belongings tossed around the room like an f-5 tornado went through it.
It’s just belongings… I tell myself as I step over pieces of broken furniture. I killed someone today. I can handle seeing my apartment ransacked.
