“The coo–cookies.”
They’re burning. I switch off the oven and use a dishcloth to dump the baking tray on a cork plate, trying not to panic.
There’s no backdoor or window. The only way out is through the front. We’re trapped. I lean on the wall, shaking and feeling sick.
Please, don’t let him kill us. Scrap that. Rather let him kill us than torture us.
Everyone from Aucklandpark to Bez Valley knows what The Breaker does to debtors who don’t pay. He has a reputation built on a trail of broken bodies and burnt houses. Puff, always sensing anxiety, licks my ankles.
Footsteps fall on the landing. It’s too late. Fighting instinct flares in me. My need to protect my brother takes over.
I grab Charlie’s hand. “Listen to me.” My voice is urgent, but calm. “Can you be brave?”
“Bra–brave.”
Puff barks once.
The knock on the door startles me, even if I expected it. I can’t move. I should’ve taken Charlie and run last night. No, they would’ve found us. Then it would’ve been worse. You can’t outrun The Breaker.
Another knock falls, harder this time. The sound is hollow on the false wood.
“Stand up straight.” Don’t show your fear, I want to say, but Charlie won’t understand.
No third knock comes.
The door breaks inward, pressed wood splintering with a dry, brittle sound. Three men file through the frame to make my worst nightmare come true. They’re carrying guns. Dark complexions, Portuguese, except for the one in the middle. He’s South African. He moves with a limp, his right leg stiff. Gabriel is even uglier up close. In the daylight, the blue of his eyes look frozen. They hold the warmth of an iceberg as his gaze does a merry-go-round of the room, gauging the situation to the minutest details with a single glance.
He knows we’re unprotected. He knows we’re frightened, and he likes it. He feeds off it. His chest swells, stretching the jacket over his broad shoulders. He taps the gun against his thigh while his free hand closes and opens around empty air.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
Those hands. My God, they’re enormous. The skin is dark and rough with strong veins and a light coat of black hair. Those are hands not afraid of getting dirty. They’re hands that can wrap around a neck and crush a windpipe with a squeeze.
I swallow and lift my gaze to his face. He’s no longer taking stock of the room. He’s assessing me. His eyes run over my body as if he’s looking for sins in my soul. It feels as if he cuts me open and lets my secrets pour out. He makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable. His presence is so intense, we’re communicating with the energy alone that vibrates around us. His stare reaches deep inside of me and filters through my private thoughts to see the truth, that his cruel self-assurance stirs both hate and awe. It’s the awe he takes, as if it’s his right to explore my intimate feelings, but he does so probingly, tenderly almost, executing the invasive act with respect.
Then he loses interest. As soon as he’s sucked me dry, I cease to exist. I’m the carpet he wipes his feet on. His expression turns bored as he fixes his attention on Charlie.
Taking back some power, I say, “What do you want?”
His lips twitch. He knows I’m bluffing. “You know why I’m here.”
His voice is deep. The rasp of that dark tone resonates with authority and something more disturbing––sensuality. He speaks evenly, articulating every word. Somehow, the musical quality and controlled volume of his voice make the statement sound ten times more threatening than if he’d shouted it. Under different circumstances I would’ve been enchanted by the rich timbre. All I feel now is fear, and it’s reflected on Charlie’s face. I hate that I can’t take it away for him.
“I’ll only ask you once,” Gabriel says, “and I want a simply yes or no answer.” Tap, tap.
Tap, tap. “Do you have my money?”
Spatters of words dribble from Charlie’s lips. “I–I do–don’t li–like them. Not ni–nice me–men.”
The man on the left, the one with the lime green eyes, lifts his gun and aims at Charlie’s feet. It happens too fast. Before I can charge, his finger tightens on the trigger. The silencer dampens the shot. I wait for the damage, blood to color the white of Charlie’s tennis shoe, but instead there’s a wail, and Puff falls over.
Oh, no. Please. No. Dear God. No, no, no.
It has to be a horror movie, but the hole between Puff’s eyes is very real. So is the blood running onto the linoleum. The lifeless body on the floor unfurls a rage in me. He was only a defenseless animal. The unfairness, the cruelty, and my own helplessness are fuel on my shocked senses.
In a fit of blind fury, I storm the man with the gun. “You sorry excuse of a man!”
He ducks, easily grabbing both my wrists in one hand. When he aims the gun at my head,
Gabriel says, his beautiful voice vibrating like a tight-pulled guitar string, “Let her go.”
The man obliges, giving me a shove that makes me stumble. The minute I’m free, I go for Gabriel, punching my fists in his stomach and on his chest. The more he stands there and takes my hammering, my assault having no effect on him, the closer I come to tears.
Gabriel lets me carry on, to make a fool of myself, no doubt, but I can’t help it. I go on until my energy is spent, and I have to stop in painful defeat. Going down on my knees, I feel Puff’s tiny chest. His heartbeat is gone. I want to hug him to my body, but Charlie is huddled in the corner, ripping at his hair.
Ignoring the men, I straighten and cup Charlie’s hands, pulling them away from his head.
“Remember what I said about being brave?”
“Bra–brave.”
So much hatred for Gabriel and his cronies fills me that my heart is as black as a burnt-out volcano. There’s no space for anything good in there. I know I shouldn’t give in to the darkness of the sensations coursing through my soul, but it’s as if the blackness is an ink stain that bleeds over the edges of a page. I embrace the anger. If I don’t, fear will consume me.
Gabriel gives me a strangely compassionate look. “You owe me an answer.”
“Look around you.” I motion at our flat. “Does it look like we can afford that kind of money? You’re a twisted man for giving a mentally disabled person a loan.”
His eyes narrow and crinkle in the corners. “You have no idea how twisted I’m willing to get.” Gabriel grasps Charlie by the collar of his T-shirt, dragging him closer. “For the record, if you didn’t want your brother to make debt, you should’ve declared him incompetent and revoked his financial signing power.”
“Leave him alone!”
I grab Gabriel’s arm and hang on it with my full weight, but it makes no difference. I’m dangling on him like a piece of washing on a line. He swats me away, sending me flying to the ground, and presses the barrel of his pistol against my brother’s soft temple where a vein pulses with an innocent life not yet lived.
“Va–Val!”
He cocks the safety. “Yes or no?”
“Yes!” Using the wall at my back for support, I scramble to my feet. “I’ll pay it.”
Charlie cries softly. Gabriel looks at me as if he notices nothing else. His eyes pin me to the spot. Under his gaze, I’m a frog splayed and nailed to a board, and he holds the scalpel in his hand.
He doesn’t lower the gun. “Do you know how much?” “Yes.” My voice doesn’t waver.
“Say it.”
“Four hundred thousand.”
“Where’s the money?”
The ghost of a smile is back on his face. Behind the scarred mask is a man who knows how to hurt people to get what he wants, but for now he’s entertained. The bastard finds the situation amusing.
“I’ll pay it off.”
He tilts his head. “You’ll pay it off.” He makes it sound as if I’m mad.
“With interest.”
“Miss Haynes, I assume.” Despite his declared assumption, he says it like it’s a fact.
/> Everything about him shouts confidence and arrogance. “Tell me your name.”
“You know my name.” Men like him know the names of all the family members before they move in for the kill.
“I want to hear you say it.”
I wet my dry lips. “Valentina.”
He seems to digest the sound like a person would taste wine on his tongue. “How much do you earn, Valentina?”
I refuse to cower. “Sixty thousand.”
He lowers the gun. It’s a game to him now. “Per month?”
“Per year.”
He laughs softly. “What do you do?”
“I’m an assistant.” I don’t offer more. It’s enough that he already knows my name.
He regards me with his arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Nine years.”
It sounds ridiculous, but the quick calculation I do in my head assures me it’s not. That’s almost five thousand per month, including thirty percent interest on the lump sum. I can’t call him unfair. Loan sharks in this neighborhood ask anything between fifty to a hundred and fifty percent interest.
“Nine years if you pay it back with the lowest of interests,” he continues, confirming my calculation.
Of course, I’m not planning on staying a vet assistant forever. It’s only until I qualify as a vet in four more years. By then, I’ll be earning more. “I’ll pay it off faster when I get a better job.”
He closes the two steps between us with an uneven gait. He’s standing so near I can smell the detergent of his shirt and the faint, spicy fragrance of his skin.
“You misunderstood my offer.” His eyes drill into mine. “You’ll work for me for nine years.”
My breath catches. “For you?” He just looks at me.
“Doing what?” I ask on a whisper.
The intensity in those iced, blue depths sharpens. “Any duty I see fit. Think carefully,
Valentina. If you accept, it’ll be a live-in position.”
I know what any duty implies. He’s no different than Tiny. Loathing fills me.
Gabriel regards me as if he’s making a bet with himself. “Either I shoot your brother and you walk away, or he’s free, and you work off his debt.”
“Give me whatever contract I need to sign, and I’ll find my own way to pay you.”
He chuckles. “It’s my terms or none.”
What choice do I have? My knees feel shaky, but it’s hardly the time to be weak.
“I’ll do it.” As I say the words, a ball of ice sinks to my stomach.
For a moment, he looks surprised, but then his expression becomes closed-off. “You have five minutes to pack.”
“I have a condition.”
The amusement is back on his face. He taps the gun on his thigh and waits.
“I want my brother’s safety guaranteed.” If I’m not around, Charlie will need protection. I don’t want a repeat of what got us into this mess.
“Fair enough. He’ll have my protection.”
“I need to call someone to fetch him. He can’t stay alone.”
He takes his phone from his pocket, punches in a code, and pushes it into my hand. “You’ll use mine until we’ve ensured yours isn’t compromised.”
Turning my back on them, I type my only friend’s number. While I’m dialing Kris, the man with the dark eyes searches my purse that hangs over a chair in the kitchen. I watch the men from the corner of my eye, my hand shaking as I wait for Kris to take the call.
“It’s Valentina,” I say when she answers.
Dogs bark in the background. “I didn’t recognize this number. Do you have a new phone?
I saw you called earlier, but I haven’t listened to your message yet.”
“Kris, listen to me. I need you to fetch Charlie. Can he stay with you for a while?”
“What happened?”
“Charlie made debt at Napoli’s. I’m with the creditor.”
“What?” she shrieks. “You’re with a loan shark? Where?”
“My place. Things have changed. I’m going to work off Charlie’s debt, but he can’t stay alone.” My cheeks grow hot as I add, “It’s a live-in position.”
“What about your job here?”
“I’m sorry. I know how much you need me.”
It’s always hectic at the clinic, and I feel bad for what I have to do. Kris is one of the best vets I know. She gave me a job when nobody else would, and I hate turning my back on her.
Gabriel checks his watch. “You have three minutes.”
“I have to go. Will you call me when you’ve got Charlie?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, Kris.” I glance at Puff’s body, forcing down my tears. “You’ll have to––”
Gabriel takes the phone from my hand. “Hello, Kris.” He keeps his piercing gaze trained on me. “The door to Valentina’s flat is broken, but don’t worry. I’ll have it replaced.” He cuts the call. “Two minutes. I suppose you’ll pack light.”
Stress drives me as I shove the few outfits and toiletries I own in our only travel bag. What will become of Charlie? For now, he’s alive. I’m alive. That’s what I need to focus on.
Gabriel’s cronies help themselves to the cookies cooling on the table. Gabriel says nothing.
Only his disturbing stare follows me as I move through the room.
I’ve barely zipped up my bag before he says, “Let’s go.”
Adrenalin from the shock makes me strong, strong enough to walk to my brother with confident steps and take his tear-streaked face in my hands.
I go on tiptoes and kiss his forehead. “Remember what I said about being brave. You can do it.” I want to say I’ll call him, but I don’t want to lie. “Wait for Kris. She’ll be here soon.”
Gabriel takes my bag and steers me to the door, stopping in the frame to say to the man who shot Puff, “Stay with her brother until the woman arrives and bury the dog. Have the door fixed before you go.”
The man nods. He’s shorter than Gabriel, but not less muscled.
I look over my shoulder and take in everything I can––Charlie’s haphazard hair, his soft hazel eyes, and the washed-out Spiderman T-shirt––because I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
Chapter Two
Gabriel
The petite brunette stiffens when I take her elbow to steer her down the stairs. Her face is ghastly white, and her whole body trembles, but she walks with a straight back. I have dragged men three times her size kicking and screaming to a tamer fate than the one awaiting her. She has guts, but I already knew that from last night.
On the pavement, I take her hand to help her down the curb. Her delicate frame grows even more rigid, but she doesn’t resist. Magda turns her head to the car window when we approach. She startles at the sight of the woman I have in the iron grip of my fingers, and then her expression turns stoic. My mother isn’t happy. This isn’t what she ordered. Tough luck. It’s not going to happen the way she wants today, but I’ve got some explaining to do.
Madga gets out, her eyes shredding me to pieces.
“Put her in the back,” I say to Quincy, handing Valentina over like a parcel.
Magda waits until Quincy shuts the door and walks to where we’re out of earshot. “She was supposed to be dead.”
“I made a deal.”
“What deal?”
“Nine years for Charlie’s debt.”
She blinks. “You’re taking her?”
I cross my arms. “Yes.”
“You want to fuck her.”
I don’t deny it. There’s no point.
“It’s not that simple, Gabriel.”
I saw her. I wanted her. I took her. Yeah, it’s that simple.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Magda insists.
“The plan changed.”
She throws her hands up in the air and starts pacing the sidewalk. “The price was death.”
“Charlie has brain damage.” That’s a tougher price than death. To me, at
least. “We shouldn’t have granted him a loan.”
“Well, we did. Retard or not, showing mercy is showing our enemies we’re getting soft.” “Nine years are not exactly mercy.” Not with what I’m planning for Valentina.
“She has to die.”
“I never go back on my word. People in our business trust us because I keep my word.
Rhett and Quincy heard me make the deal.”
The charcoal lines around her eyes wrinkle. “What did you promise?”
“A live-in arrangement.”
“Arrangement?”
“I said she could work back the debt.”
Underneath Magda’s controlled exterior she’s simmering. A vein pops out on her temple. “Fine. You want to play doll? Have your fun, but we’re setting her up to fail. When she does, she’s dead and so is her brother.”
A sharp pain jolts into my damaged hip. I make a conscious effort to relax my body, muscle by muscle.
“Come on.” Magda is already on her way back to the car. “I’ll figure it out on the way home.”
For the first time, I regret never giving a fuck about professional relationship building. I don’t care what people think or about anyone but my daughter, but Magda has always cast the net out wide, catching everyone she can put in her pocket. Her network and influence stretch much further than mine. She carries all the authority in this organization. Sometimes, I have the ugly suspicion the business is the only reason she married my father, so she could take it over.
She makes a hell of a tougher loan shark than he ever did, and he was a scary bastard.
I get into the back with Valentina while Magda sits up front with Quincy.
“Drive,” she tells my bodyguard.
Quincy and Magda are quiet, I guess because of the girl. An intense awareness of the woman next to me and my power over her spreads through my body, making me hard.
Fuck me. I own her.
She’s mine.
The thought gives me a head rush. She’s so small she looks like the doll Magda accused me of wanting to play with. Upright, Valentina barely reaches my chest. Her bones are fragile enough to crush under the lightest pressure. If I hug her too tight, her ribs may crack. I can wrap one hand around her slender neck. How hard I choose to close my fingers will be the discerning factor between life and death. Yet, she attacked me when Rhett shot her dog. She gave me an order when she told me to let Charlie Haynes go. She’s strong and loyal.
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