Chapter Nineteen

I had shuffled out of the big room through the door where I’d seen the other men and women go, and then I’d paused just outside, sagging against the wall.

In all of my time with Dean, both as a married couple and even before, I had never felt like that. When John kissed me, my whole body heated up in response. I forgot that anyone was watching. I even forgot we were just pretending.

I touched my lips with my fingers. Why did he continued to affect me so deeply? Pretending be his girl—wife, I corrected—wasn’t easy. But it wasn’t hard, either. At least not so far. There was something about the man that made me lose control. And worse, he made me want to lose it. I was giving in to that urge. I had signed the papers without even making sure they could be discarded. I was pushing aside self-restraint and common sense, and acting on instinct instead.

Maybe that’s the problem.

I was too used to keeping myself contained, and my impulsive behaviour was letting more than a little excitement bubble over my self-imposed wall. It left me vulnerable. It made me respond to John in a way I hadn’t expected. It made me slip up and talk about Jeanette to a roomful of strangers.

I shook my head to clear away the lingering effects of John’s kiss. In spite of his apologetic look as he forced me to leave, I was apprehensive.

What kind of men were these, that he would need to be so violent with them? Did they really need that kind of control in order to behave? Or was that just the kind of man John really was? And now…what were they going to be like when I was alone with them? It was one thing to maintain the charade with him there to act as a buffer. It was a whole other to carry it on my own.

I convinced myself to stop leaning on the wall, and walked down the hall, following sounds of men talking. I listened to them through the door. Their voices were deep. Raucous. Intimidating. One of the hired ladies giggled, and all of the men laughed loudly, too. It did nothing to ease my tension.

C’mon, I cajoled myself. You can do this.

I took a deep, measured breath, and made my entrance.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” I greeted with a grin. “It seems I’ve been demoted.”

One of the women—the one who had sneered at me at the poker table—walked over to me and grabbed my hand. I almost recoiled from her as she ran her manicured hand over mine.

“Pretty rock,” she said.

I met her gaze as coolly as I could manage. She was my age, or maybe even younger. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and I guessed instantly that she was high. Her clothes barely covered her assets, but they weren’t cheap. She caught my scrutiny and shrugged.

“Baby,” one of the men called, and she finally let my hand go to attend to whatever it was he needed.

I glanced around the room. My eyes settled on the money man. He gave me a dark look from behind his bloody nose. He put down his ice pack and sneered.

“I knew it wouldn’t last,” he said.

I did my best to look impassive.

“Still. I’d rather be in my shoes than yours,” I remarked.

“And I’m sure getting in your shoes is the furthest thing from John’s mind at the moment,” Gary countered.

I leaned closer to him. “Trust me. I have nothing to worry about.”

“I feel like you’re threatening me,” Gary said. “And I’m not sure why you think that’s okay. Grown men are more afraid of John—hell, even of me—than you are. Care to explain that at all?”

I thought fast. I hadn’t really been expecting to have to defend my obnoxious comments. I remembered that John had implied that the men should have been expecting his presence—even though he had arrived ahead of schedule.

“John doesn’t trust you,” I whispered. “He thinks someone knows a bit too much. He knows it’s not me. He knows it’s not Leo…”

Gary’s eyes widened, and I realized my bullshit ploy was probably close to the truth.

“Right,” he said sarcastically. “From what I hear, he’s the one who’s practically stalking the whole crew, following our every move. Following Monato around, too. And even that guy thought it showed a lack of faith.”

My skin crawled at the name.

“John trusts me. Explicitly,” I added. “What about you, Gary? You talk to Monato a lot?”

“You’re not a regular player,” he said, deflecting my obvious implication. “What are you in this for? Your clothes are rich. You’re obviously attached to the boss. But something doesn’t sit right.”

“That might just be what you had for lunch, Gary,” interrupted a calm voice.

I glanced up at the man who had joined us. It was Ramirez again. Did he know I recognized him?

Gary looked at him uncertainly.

“You believe her story?” he asked.

“What’s to believe?” the Doc replied dismissively. “You can tell just from looking at them where this is going.”

He sounded so sincere that I just about let my careful mask slip. I was glad the two men were looking at each other instead of at me.

“The man’s always been an unfeeling bastard as best I could tell. He’s got revenge on the brain,” Gary stated.

The Doc raised his eyebrows. “Revenge? For what? On who?”

Gary shrugged. “Dunno. But I heard one of the other guys say it, and I don’t doubt it. Nobody can be that driven, but have zero feelings.”

“Maybe,” Ramirez replied in a considering voice. “But as far as Cass is concerned…he certainly doesn’t seem unfeeling anymore.”

Gary rolled his eyes and turned back to me. “All I know is Monato was clearly after you. Is still after you. Who knows why. But John saw it, and had to get in on the action. Marrying you at a card table? We’ll just see if that sticks.”

I opened my mouth to say something—I don’t know what—but out of nowhere someone cracked me on the head, and I fell forward, face first into Gary’s lap. Someone tossed a bag over my head, and I had to gasp for breath until someone rolled me over. I landed on the ground with a heavy thump.

Shouts of surprise and anger filled the room. Three resounding pops carried through the air, and I was immediately sure they were gunshots.

“The girls,” someone growled. “That girl.”

Monato.

It was him. I knew it.

Rough hands grabbed my ankles and dragged me across the floor. I tried to kick, and earned a not-gentle kick in the kidneys.

“In here,” Monato said.

Whoever was pulling me along let me go without ceremony. Someone secured my hands and yanked off the hood. I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. I was in a small room full of racks of fabric. And I was face to face with the greasy little would-be kidnapper. He smiled. I looked away, and he grabbed my chin forcing me to meet his gaze. He was wearing thick gloves, and the feel of them made me cringe.

“I don’t think so,” he told me. “I want you to watch this so you know what’s coming.”

The three hookers came stumbling into the room, followed closely by a gun-wielding man in a ski mask.

“Strip,” Monato told them.

I tried to look away, and he cuffed my cheek with the back of his hand. Tears started, and with my hands tied, I couldn’t even wipe them away. The three young women undressed down to their underwear, quickly and wordlessly, and stood facing Monato.

“String them up,” he said to the man in the ski mask, before he turned back to me. “I like these girls. They work for me, and they don’t complain.”

I watched helplessly as they allowed themselves to be bound. Monato pulled knife from his pocket and dragged it along one of the girl’s throats. She blinked, but didn’t move.

“Please stop,” I whispered.

“No.”

Monato went to the girls and slowly, almost lovingly wrapped a long piece of red cord around each of their necks. Then he marched them over to one of the racks of cloth and began winding the cord around the highest metal shelf.

“Please,” I said.

“No.”

The girls finally seemed to finally clue in that something unpleasant was going to happen, to realize that this wasn’t just some game. One of them tried to kick Monato in the shins, but he sidestepped her easily. Another started to scream, but he tightened the cord so she couldn’t do anything but choke. The third attempted to flee, and Monato laughed as the rack shuddered and forced her to stop abruptly.

Then the cruel little man slid over to pull on the thick wire, securing it so the girls were suspended and had to stand on their tiptoes to keep breathing. He turned back to me.

“They’ll get tired soon enough.

I heard myself whimper in response.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

I shook my head because I didn’t trust my voice.

Monato tugged the cords again, and the three women gagged.

“Now.”

With shaking hands, I struggled to pull off my shirt and then my pants. My body didn’t want to cooperate. When I finally did manage to drop my clothes to the floor, I shivered uncontrollably.

Monato appraised me slowly.

“What a waste,” he said, and shrugged. “I just wish it didn’t have to be quick like this.”

And he was beside me, wrapping the red cord around my neck tightly. He used it to yank me roughly across the room, then he took the free end of the wire and tossed it over a metal beam above our heads. I felt myself lift up, and I kicked, trying desperately to maintain my footing. I failed.

Breathe.

I tried to obey the command that came from my brain, but after just a few moments, the world slid away.