“Of course.” I finished peeling the duct tape from my wrists and rubbed the sticky skin beneath. I’d have marks for a while.
“You really made a mess of yourself,” he said, reaching down and touching the red, raw skin. “All that twisting and pulling irritated it a lot more than the tape did.” He tapped my wrist.
“And my jaw? Is that my fault, too?” I couldn’t keep the snark from my tone. Now that I was safe from the bad room, a little more backbone showed up.
He shook his head.
“I told you to come; you didn’t. When you don’t obey, there’re consequences, darlin’.” He lifted a shoulder and pushed away from the counter. “You hungry?”
He switched gears too fast for me to keep up with him. But my stomach growled, apparently giving him the answer he wanted.
His gun was still strapped to his side, and, once I caught sight of it, I couldn’t let go.
“Do you always carry your gun around your house, or is just because I’m here?” I asked softly. At least it wasn’t in his hand anymore. I much preferred it on his hip to having it pointed at my face or touching me.
“Where I go, she goes,” he said.
“She? Does she have a name?” I asked, almost finding humor in him. Almost.
His lips quirked. “Simone.”
“You named your gun Simone?” I tried to keep my voice solid, not laugh, but he’d named his gun Simone.
“Everyone has their quirks. I have Simone, you have your shell. How’s that working for you? That climb?” His eyebrow arched, and his lips spread into an all-out grin.
I understood the signal this time. He was laughing at me.
“Fuck you,” I whispered and lowered my gaze.
He laughed.
“Only if you’re real sweet to me.” He stepped back to the doorway. “You can stay in the bedroom over here. No leaving, and don’t bother with the windows, I have security cameras outside the house. Any movement will alert me. I’d be on you before you hit the ground.”
I got up from the toilet and followed him down the hall. “Trading one room for another?” I asked.
“There’s windows here you can open.” He pushed the door and revealed the room. “A bathroom’s connected, so there’s no reason to be walking around the house.”
I looked at the doorframe. “There’s no lock,” I pointed out. I could be free of the room the moment he walked away.
“Not yet. If I have to put one on for you, it’s going to be bad first.” His eyes narrowed when he spoke, sending a shiver through me. I didn’t need further explanation to know what bad meant.
I touched my jaw. “Got it.”
His eyes lowered. “I’ll bring some food up in a bit.”
What was the protocol when your kidnapper and could-be murderer offered food?
“’kay,” I said lamely. I walked past him, feeling the heat of his body brush mine, and into the bedroom.
The door pulled shut, and the silence crowded me. Folding my arms over my stomach, I stared at the door. I couldn’t get a handle on him.
One minute, he terrified me, convinced me I had limited hours to live. The next, he pulled me out of the death grip of my anxiety and offered me a bedroom suite in his house.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror hanging over a dresser. My hair could double as a squirrel’s nest, and my face was marred with smeared mascara. The dark bluish-purple marking on my jaw, thanks to his massive fist, added a bit of color to my otherwise pale complexion.
I sank down onto the plush mattress of the bed. The room had a sweet flavor to it. Decorated with white and light greens, it had the distinct taste of a guest room. But why would a killer like Dustan need a guest room?
Glancing back at the door, I sighed. Who the hell was I being held captive by, and what was coming next?
More questions than answers. I flicked away a tear that dared to roll down my cheek. Crying hadn’t helped so far, and I was too tired to go through another attack. Lying back on the bed, I tucked my knees into my chest and closed my eyes.
The questions would still be there after I woke up, and maybe there’d be a few answers to go with them.
Dustan
My office was less of an office and more of a sanctuary. Probably because I spent most of my time while home in there. I had knocked out a wall and made the space large enough for my desk, all my computer shit, and my workout bench.
I wasn’t as into working out as some, but it was necessary if I was going to keep up with my line of work. Becoming a member of the Cavalieri hadn’t been a hard decision to make. Arthur could be an ass, and I had no idea how he came up with the jobs he assigned, but I didn’t care. I’d come to his ranks with my eyes open wide and checked my moral compass at the door.
He said someone needed killing, they got killed. That was the only moral code I needed to keep myself sleeping soundly at night. I rarely did much background checking into a target other than to make my plans. I didn’t need to understand why the target needed eliminating in order to get rid of them. I never asked Bobby to check too deeply into the target, either, just enough for me to know what might pop up at me. I’m sure he preferred it that way. Though I suspected Bobby had other clients he ran intel for who had blacker souls than myself. I never asked, and he didn’t offer.
It was a simple arrangement.
And yet, I found myself sitting at my desk, plowing through the Facebook profile of Cherise Styles. Most of the photographs were of her in college. Nothing recent other than some sightseeing pics from around Chicago. She had a thing for museums, apparently.
But other than trips to the beach or walks along the mag mile, there were no photos of friends or boyfriends. The lack of boyfriends caught my attention first, but I wasn’t going to analyze it.
She’d gone to college in Minnesota, but lived in Chicago now? Where was her family?
I lounged back against the soft leather of my chair and tapped the desk with my fingers. Her social media accounts didn’t give me any insight as to why the Merde family would want her found. If the cops were looking for her, it wasn’t because they wanted answers about Antonio’s disappearance. The Merdes had too much pull in the Chicago PD to allow any investigation they didn’t want.
I didn’t ask Arthur a lot of questions when he assigned me a hit, but when I got the word about Antonio, I wanted info on any retaliation I might see coming. He’d been assuring that there would be none. Antonio’s hand had been caught in the family cookie jar, and his disappearance would be seen as a blessing.
Arthur may be lots of things, many of them dark and dirty, but he didn’t put us in jeopardy. So, if the Merde family didn’t really give a shit about Antonio’s death, why were they trying to get their hands on Cherise?
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Bobby.
“Hey, you have anything for me?” I asked, clicking my screen over to the surveillance camera in Cherise’s bedroom.
“Not much. She’s boring as fuck, actually,” Bobby said. “But I did find out the cops don’t give a shit about Antonio. They really only want the girl, and my connection says it’s a seize and deliver operation.”
“So, the Merde family wants her.”
“Yeah. And it’s not just the dirty cops looking, they put out a reward. One million is sitting on that girl’s head.”
My body went rigid.
“A million?”
“Yeah, man. You have a fucking lottery ticket in your hands.” The joviality in Bobby’s voice put me on edge.
“What do they want her for?” I asked, watching the screen. She was still sleeping. Her hands were tucked neatly between her knees. She hadn’t climbed beneath the quilts or even slid her shoes off. Though, after that panic attack, she was probably exhausted.
“Don’t know. Does it matter?”
She’d been ready to hyperventilate herself right into passing out when I’d gotten to her in the safe room. I’d seen panic attacks before, knew it for what it
was the moment it took her over, but she dove fast. I could have just let her pass out and left her until I figured shit out. It would have been easier. She’d be locked in a safe place where she wouldn’t cause any trouble.
Moving her to the spare room meant I needed to watch her more carefully. If the Merde family wanted her, they had reasons. I needed to figure out those reasons.
“Dustan. Does it really matter?” Bobby asked a second time.
“Keep digging and see if you find the connection. Let me know when you do.” I clicked off the call, not answering his question and not wanting to dive into that side of the pool just yet.
I logged in and sent off a message to Arthur that the job was complete. I couldn’t hold off telling him any longer. He’d probably already seen the media coverage on Antonio’s disappearance. I left Cherise out of it, for now.
Once I had more information, I’d clue him in. He didn’t need to know about her anyway. The target had been Antonio, and he was taken care of. If there was another job, he’d send it when it was ready for me. Until then, I needed to figure out my little captive.
One minute, she showed me the fire burning inside of her, the next she tried to hide behind it. If she knew something, would she tell me, or was she keeping it to herself?
Maybe a few more hours in the safe room would get her talking. She’d probably suffer another attack, especially since she seemed to think I’d put her there to kill her, but afterward she might be more pliable.
I flicked my computer screen back over to her room. The bed was empty.
The door to the attached bathroom opened, and she appeared. She ran her fingers through the tangled mess of her shoulder-length dark hair and walked to the window. She pushed the curtains from the window and slipped her fingers through the slats of the blinds, opened them, and looked out.
All she’d see was forest. The house couldn’t be seen from any major roads, and the one side road leading to my land was well hidden from the unknowing eye. If someone wasn’t looking for it, they’d miss it completely.
I hadn’t lied about the sensors around the house. Between the cameras, sensors, and every other security measure I took, if someone so much as sneezed near my property line I knew about it.
Cherise pulled the thin string to raise the blinds then unlatched the window. The alarm sounded on my phone and the computer, but I shut them down. With a hard tug, which was completely unnecessary, she yanked the window upward, stumbling back at the ease of the activity.
I shook my head. Such a dramatic girl.
She still had the screen to contend with, but easily popped it out, angling it and pulling it back inside the room with her. Once it was leaning against the wall, she pressed her hands to the window ledge and leaned outside, looking around the window and down at the ground.
“You won’t see the sensors, darlin’. But they’re there,” I said to her image.
She pulled herself back inside the room and looked around. Picking up a pillow from the bed, she went back to the window.
“What are you doing?” I asked with a smile tugging at my lips.
She dropped the pillow out the window and froze, turning her head slowly as though listening intently.
I chuckled to myself. Did she think sirens would blare to alert her the sensors had been triggered? That pillow wasn’t heavy enough to set anything off, but it didn’t seem like she knew that.
She looked satisfied with her little experiment and began to climb out the window. My jaw set firm at the sight of her crawling out onto the narrow ledge outside that room. If she slipped and fell, she’d break her fucking neck.
I got up from my chair and opened the app on my phone. I could watch her as I made my way outside to her.
She obviously didn’t believe me when I said things would be bad for her if she tried to leave on her own. Or she was momentarily braver than I’d given her credit for.
Either way, Cherise was going to have a very bad afternoon.
Cherise
I’d completely underestimated the height of the bedroom. Pressing myself against the pale-blue siding, I looked down again at the ground. Much higher than I had originally thought.
But there was a tree. I had to get to it. I worked my way along the narrow ledge toward it, doing my best not to look down again.
As a kid growing up with the woods all around us, I had learned to scramble up and down trees almost as nimbly as any squirrel. The fact that it had been at least a decade since doing such an activity would have to be evaluated at another time. I had to climb down and away from his house. Away from him.
The man named his gun.
Who does that?
A psychopath, that’s who. I already knew he was a killer, but adding crazy on top of murderer completely upped the ante.
The short nap I’d taken had re-energized me. The panic attack had been horrible, and embarrassing, but it served me in the end because he’d taken me out of that horrible room and put me in the guest room.
A sharp wind blew through my hair and into my mouth, cutting off my air for a moment. I pressed harder into the house as I came up to the tree. I could do it; I had to do it.
Finding my breath again, I turned away from the wind to inspect the limbs. I needed to jump. That realization sucked some of the air from my lungs, too. If I missed, I’d fall, hitting branches on the way down before finally breaking my face on the ground below.
I took another deep breath and blew out my cheeks as I exhaled. I could do it.
No choice.
Either take my chances here, or go back inside and take my chances with Dustan.
The tree offered better odds.
I blinked a few more times, gauging the space and how hard I would have to push off from the house to make the jump. I’d have to grab onto the trunk right away, wrap my arms around it so I didn’t slide down.
Suddenly, my tree climbing experience with didn’t feel as extensive. They were old trees back home, with large limbs, and they were low. Much lower than this one. Plus, I’d never actually jumped onto one before. I’d been on the ground first.
I looked back at the window I’d climbed out of. The curtains were blowing out with the wind. I couldn’t go back.
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes closed, reached out, and pushed off from the ledge. I opened my eyes just as the trunk came into view, and I grappled for it. I missed the branch I’d been aiming for and slid down the rough bark. I groaned as my foot finally found a thick branch and stopped the downward fall.
My left cheek burned, and I was sure I’d torn it to pieces with the bark, but I had to keep moving. I worked my way down another branch, until I was at the last one. Another jump, and I was on the ground.
Feet hit first then my knees. I froze, waiting to hear something—anything. An alarm maybe.
What I heard was worse.
The click of a gun being cocked.
“Stand up, Cherise.” His cold voice trickled down my spine like melting snowflakes. I lifted my head to survey the distance between where I remained on my knees and the tree line. If I could make it into cover, maybe I’d have a chance at outmaneuvering him through the woods. I hadn’t been horrible in track, even if it had been almost a decade since I’d jumped a hurdle.
“You’ve caused enough trouble for yourself. Don’t make it worse.” Grass crunched beneath his feet with each step he took toward me.
If I made it to the woods, these were his woods. He probably knew them backward and forward, and who knew if he had traps laid out in them. This wasn’t a man I understood, other than when he’d warned me bad things would happen—he meant it.
Pushing off the ground, I rose to my feet and turned to face him. My cheek burned, my knees ached, but neither of those sensations meant anything once I laid eyes on his furious gaze.
A little tic in his jaw gave away the tension, but it was the black fire burning in his eyes that had my breath stuck in my throat. The barrel of the gun pointed at me, aga
in, didn’t compare to the ice being shot at me through his gaze.
“What did I tell you would happen if you tried to leave?” he asked, his voice a chilled controlled volume.
“You said it would be bad.” I raised my chin a fraction.
“That’s right. And do I look like the sort of man who talks to just hear myself?”
“No.” I shook my head. His finger was on the trigger, I noticed it and, once I did, I couldn’t tear my gaze from it.
“You’re a puzzle, Cherise,” he said, though it didn’t sound anything like a compliment. “You’re obviously terrified. I can see you shaking, but yet you climb out of a fucking window and down a goddamn fucking tree!” His voice rose at the end of his sentence, like he was just gearing up for the real anger to hit him.
“I’m more afraid of staying than of going,” I said easily. It was the truth, so it wasn’t hard to say it, but, looking at him—that was getting harder with each passing moment.
“Well, then I think I need to change that.” I uncocked the gun but didn’t put it away. “Take off your clothes.”
I retreated a step, bringing my arms across my chest. “What? No. Why?”
“I warned you. I told you it would be bad. Now, take them off.” Even with the gun no longer an immediate threat, it was still in his hand and I had really stretched my luck already.
I grabbed the arm of my sweater and pulled my arm through then the other and shoved it over my head. Keeping it in front of me, I glanced at him, hoping it had been enough.
His left eyebrow arched pointedly, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to.
I dropped the sweater and shoved out of my jeans, having to first kick off my shoes. Once my jeans were piled on top of my sweater, I checked his expression again. No change.
I wasn’t done, apparently.
I kept my eyes closed as I removed my bra and shimmied out of my panties, tossing both onto the pile at my feet. I wrapped my arms over my chest and crossed my ankles to give myself at least some sense of coverage. But when I opened my eyes, I saw him, saw the way his tongue touched his top lip. Saw the cold anger wane into something warmer.
Valor: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 4
