Mauro halts me before I can make a run toward it.
“Don’t think my father will help you. He’s Don of this organization. You won’t be the first bitch he’s put in the ground if he thinks she’ll be trouble.” It’s a rasp in my ear. Taking a hold of my jaw roughly, his blunt fingers press the seam of my mouth, seeking entry. “Once he’s done with you, I’m going to keep you as my fucktoy.”
Snapping my teeth together, I sink them into the end of a digit biting hard before letting it go.
Cursing under his breath, Mauro raises his arm to strike me, rage making his irises black.
“Leave her.” The two words are filled with steel. “You might like your whores messed up, but it doesn’t appeal to me.”
Nerve pulsing in his tense jaw, he obeys his father. The look he gives me promises swift retribution at a later date. I won’t let him try to rape me again. If I’m lucky, I can escape before he comes for me.
Two of the bodyguards watching over his father escort me through the door, leaving Mauro behind. As I move, I can feel his glare burning between my shoulder blades. With a quick look, I see no signs of help. No one to call out to. A strong hand on my elbow directs me into the interior of the expensive vehicle. I breathe in the smell of leather. Scooting onto the seat, it cushions my aching form. With an ominous click, the door shuts behind me, cocooning me in with my new abductor. The car moves slowly into motion, accelerating along the road.
Sitting stiffly, I dip my chin, letting a messy curtain of blonde hair hide my face. My body aches from the rough treatment it’s endured. Jaw throbbing with bruises. My mind races with possibilities. Kay will come for me. Somehow, I know that for sure. It's a fierce certainty burning in my heart. Yet, I don’t want to remain sitting around as a damsel in distress. Reaching to my left I find the cold metal of the handle.
“I wouldn’t attempt it if I were you, Miss Thornton,” the old man advises from beside me. “Rome traffic can be unforgiving, and I would hate to see you get hit by a car. Besides, Tomaso has locked us in.”
Astonishment has me turning toward him. “How do you know my name?”
I expect to see anger and threat, instead his expression holds consternation. He gives me a searching look, dark, level brows drawn together, his mouth tight.
“Did he rape you?”
“No.” I let out a long shaky sigh.
“I’m sorry for Mauro’s rough treatment of you, but we need to know where Kay is hiding.” He sounds relieved, glad I wasn’t violated, though I know that has to be a lie. “That bruise on your face looks nasty.”
When he lifts his hand, I instinctively flinch.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Evelyn.” Anger swirls in his eyes. “My name is Paulo Jilani. Why don’t we start at the beginning of how you got wrapped up in this mess, hmmm?”
Kay
Pain blasts across my shoulder as the short blue beam of the blow torch meets my skin. My hoarse screams fill the small concrete room. I can barely breathe through it. Hours have merged into one long blur of hurt eating away at me. My thoughts are a storm tossed endlessly around and around. I can't stop thinking of Evelyn. If I survive this, then nothing on Earth will stop me from getting her safely home.
“I need a coffee.”
The burn searing through my flesh lessens as the scrawny man takes a step away. Eyes closing in relief, I sag in my restraints.
“What about him?” The guard asks impassively from where he’s sitting by the door. His strained expression shows he doesn’t have the taste for such torture. Pale, his mouth set in a thin, white line, his eyes remain trained on the floor rather than on the table where I’m strapped and bleeding.
“He’s not going anywhere.” My torturer chuckles. “I’ve barely started on him. Next, I plan to remove his fingers, then his wrist before amputating up to his elbow. Come on. We could both do with a break.”
Footsteps proceed toward the door, leaving me alone in my bleak cell.
I don’t know how much time I have.
My body vibrates with agony from the abuse it’s been exposed to. Welts along my ribs ache every time I breath. Marks left from the lashes of my torturer’s leather belt. Nausea rolls through my stomach. I need to get out of here. Find a way to get them to unbuckle me.
The creak of the door opening barely registers.
“Well, you look like shit.”
The familiar American drawl has me cracking open my eyes. “Gawain?”
Dressed from head to foot in black, my friend stands beside the closed door. The piercing in his ear winks at me in the light. Handsome, well-built, his easy smile can be infectious in the right circumstances. Knife in hand, the blood it’s drenched in is ruby red in the light.
Blinking, I try to rid myself of the hallucination. He can’t be real. There’s no way in hell he could be here already even with a private jet.
He surveys me quickly, assessing every injury. “Of course, it’s me. You didn’t think I was going to let you get yourself killed, did you?”
“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” I croak, still not sure he’s not an illusion. Is it possible I’ve lost my mind?
“I can always come back in a few hours if you haven’t finished being tortured,” he jokes, relieving a little of the tension, moving closer. “I saw a pizza place that looked good.”
Relief comes thick and strong. This is the Gawain I know. By some miracle, he’s reached me before the sick bastard in charge of my torture starts removing body parts.
“Shut up and unchain me.” I rasp, raising my head, then immediately regretting it when pain shoots along my neck and shoulders.
Sheathing his blade at his hip, my friend unbuckles my ankles first before heading for my wrists. “To answer your question, I was in Switzerland when you phoned me. That’s how I got here so quickly. Bors was ready to jump on a plane from New Orleans, but I advised him to wait. If I didn’t get you out, he was going to be plan B if he didn’t hear from either of us.”
I can barely move as I fight jerkily to sit. Every muscle has seized up. My body is struggling to repair the damage now the beating has stopped. Great purple welts litter my chest and abs, which will only deepen over the coming weeks. Fresh cuts weep blood, sending rivulets of red streaming down my ghostly pale skin. I’m lucky nothing is broken. The rest of me might be a mess, but at least the fucker didn’t go for my face.
“But how the hell did you know I was here?” I ask, distracting myself from the aching agony as I edge to the side of the table. “Where ever the fuck this is?”
A phone appears in front of my face. My phone. I recognize the red horn charm swinging from side to side on the end of its piece of cord. “Some dumb shit took your phone when they kidnapped you. He’s been using it. All I had to do was trace the number to your location.”
“Thank fuck for idiots.”
Gawain laughs, handing it to me. Curling my fingers around the smooth contours, my thumb caresses the screen. A red light blinks, showing the battery is about to die. Fuck. Not what I need. Alessandro needs to be warned. By now, Evelyn should have been moved, but I need to be sure.
Voices penetrate through the closed door. Gawain shoots me a warning look, darting behind it before it can open.
“How did you get loose?” the guard squeaks the second he sees me sitting on the table, my legs hanging over the edge.
“Mother fucking magic,” I snarl, baring my teeth.
Gawain is behind him so quickly he’s only aware he’s there as the knife’s blade slices through his throat. Mouth gaping, eyes round, his hand jumps up to try to stem the flow of blood, but it’s already too late.
As the guard hits the floor, Gawain corners my skinny short tormentor.
“He’s mine.”
Dark eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “Make it quick. This place is like a rat’s nest, and we need to be in and out before anyone else finds us.”
Shuffling off the table, my feet hold my weight. I’ve already planned
this moment. Fantasized about what I was going to do with the bastard the second I had my freedom. Whatever he sees in my expression, it makes him blanch, stealing the color from his cheeks. When he tries to run, Gawain secures him to the wall with a hand around his fragile neck.
Limping, my once smooth gait is faltering and uneven, my features contouring with the effort. There’s no gloating. No relishing revenges. No words. Scooping up the blow torch, I click it on and take the flame to his face. His scream is agonizing as it melts flesh. Not even blinking, I observe it bubble and split. His sounds eventually die down to a gurgle before ending abruptly. What’s left of the corpse sags to the floor.
"Feel better now?" Gawain inquires with a cock of his eyebrow.
Discarding the torture device, I limp for the door, careful to step over the dead guard first. “I need to find Evelyn.”
“Who?”
“The woman I mentioned on the phone. Who I need you to get out of Italy.”
Gawain joins me, handing me a gun before checking the corridor for any signs of life. “I need to get you to a hospital.”
“No, not until I know she’s safe,” I tell him quickly, checking over the weapon to assure myself everything is order.
“What’s gotten into you? Are you delirious? You’re risking your life for a piece of pussy?”
“Yes,” I reply simply.
Gawain looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Well at least you’re honest. Insane but honest. I thought this was all to do with an internal struggle for power in the Jilani crime family?”
“There’s that too,” I admit, wincing as he gestures in the direction he wants us to go. “I’m neck deep in a past that doesn’t want to let the fuck go.”
Acknowledging the seriousness of our predicament, we both fall silent. Slipping silently along the corridor, we don’t meet any resistance leaving the building. The goons Chiara hired haven’t been trained. One guard left on lookout isn’t much of a match. Not that she probably realized she’d need more. She’s over confident. Believes her deception to have me framed for the attempts on Paulo’s life will work. I’m also aware of the fact she’s failed once. Next time, Don Jilani might not be so lucky.
Gawain leads me to his rental car. We drive to the flat in silence. I expect teasing for, or inquiries into, how good the blonde I’m so focused on fucks, but for once, he keeps quiet. Perhaps sensing the urgency that’s riding me.
Hissing with the stiffness of my muscles, I shakily slide out of the passenger side. The spare shirt Gawain gave me from his travel bag covers the darkening bruises over my battered frame. Blood stains the material in places the cuts are slow to close.
We see no one as we enter the building. The ride up in the lift has tension thrumming through every inch of me. Something’s wrong. I know it. Whatever sixth sense I possess, it smothers me with dread as we get closer to our destination.
The first thing I note is the flat door isn’t locked when I try the handle. They know to keep it secured. It’s one thing I made sure they would do while I was gone.
“Evelyn? Laura?” I call out, barely aware of Gawain behind me as I step into the hall. The antiques lay untouched around us, gathering dust. The silence has trepidation knotting up my insides. Panic creeps up when I get no answer.
Aches and pains forgotten, I hurry to the kitchen. The first thing I see is the red staining the marble floor. I can’t tear my gaze from it. Eyes wild and wide, my brain buzzes with alarm ready to overload.
No.
No this can’t be happening. Not again.
Memories choke me.
Angry voices shouting. A woman’s screams. Bang after bang ringing out before there’s a deafening silence.
Blood covers the living room floor. My mother lays at the center of the crimson pool, her eyes glassy and staring. Beside her, my father’s on his front. The same spreading red stains his shirt, sticky in his hair.
“Kay, we’ve got company.” Gawain’s voice shakes me from the childhood horror.
Swiveling, my breathing comes out rapid, shallow. I’m numb with the thought of anything happening to Evelyn.
The somber, haggard features of Alessandro meet my tortured gaze. It’s as if the weight of something terrible has aged his hulking frame in the matter of a day.
“What the fuck happened? Where are the women?”
“Tomaso told Don Jilani about Evelyn. Laura is in hospital…she was stabbed. He has Evelyn at his villa.” He informs me quietly. Reaching for a chair, he lowers himself down to sag into the seat.
Paulo did this? My mind scrambles to process the information. He has to still believe I’m responsible for trying to kill him. Evelyn. My perfect petal has become a pawn in a game.
“Laura was stabbed? Is she…?” I can’t get the word out. Don’t want to believe that she could be dead.
“She’s alive,” Alessandro informs me, his expression strained with worry for his wife. The old woman we both care for. “She’d sent me out with a list of things to buy. When I returned, she was bleeding out on the floor, and Evelyn was gone. I’m sorry, Kay.”
I’m exhausted and hurting, but resting isn’t an option. Evelyn is only mixed up in this mess because of me. I’m responsible for what happens to her. One wrong move and she’s dead. That single thought repeats itself over and over in my mind. Stalking to a cupboard, I swing it open, finding the packet of cigarettes and lighter I kept as a reserve. Flicking one out, I place it between my lips. My fingers tremble as I light it up. The smell and taste are bitter, which I haven’t noticed before. Smoke curling up into the air, it swirls in lazy patterns. Straightening my shoulders, I find my resolve.
“Kay, where are we going?” Gawain calls after me as I move.
Stuffing the smokes and lighter in the front pocket of my jeans, I turn at the doorway. “We need to get Evelyn out of the villa. She’s not safe, and I’m done being someone else’s unwilling pawn.”
Evelyn
Knotting and unknotting my fingers nervously, I stare out of the window over the impressive gardens of the villa below. The place is beautiful and tranquil, but none of it settles my soul.
Paulo Jilani had demanded every piece of my story. Suspicious, distrustful, I hadn’t answered the questions he’d tried probing me with. Instead of the violence and threat I’d been expecting, he whisked me to safety. He hasn’t once touched me like his son had. Tight lipped as I’ve been, it didn’t stop him from telling me his story.
All of it.
The fact Paulo Jilani was expecting me before I even arrived in Rome. That he’s been looking for me since I went missing. He’s the reason I’m here. I still don’t believe it.
Like a force of nature, he’s been searching for Kay. The man he says he calls his adopted son. I don’t know what to believe. Is Don Jilani responsible for the hit on Kay? Can I trust him, or is this a ruse? Does he think he can use me for leverage?
The thought of Kay hurt or dead swims wildly through my mind. With it comes pain. Arrogant, high-handed, I can’t help but worry for him. His touch has left its mark on me. A spark of something inside him that beckons me to him.
Guilt gnaws at me over Laura’s condition. The affection he has for her was clear. Stable and in hospital, it was the old woman’s husband’s quick thinking that saved her life. I only know this through their son, Tomaso. One of Don Jilani’s personal drivers, he’s the one who supplied him with information. Through his actions, he saved me from being raped. I’m grateful for his intervention.
My host has been polite and gentlemanly. Having a doctor examine me, he assured himself I haven’t been seriously hurt. The man has been friendly and efficient.
Decorated in shades of cream, the elegant bedroom I’ve been given to sleep in feels a little like a gilded cage. A meek, obedient maid brought me meals on a tray. Door locked, I’m forbidden to leave.
“Don Jilani would like you to join him in the Livingroom.” The deep accented voice informs me from the doorway. Large and imp
osing, Stefano, the Don’s right hand man, tilts his head at me politely. He’s been my shadow since I was rescued the day before. Not into conversation, he’s watched me like a hawk.
Hurrying from the window, I move to pass him, giving him a nervous look. The urge to know what’s happened to Kay has me almost tripping over my own feet. Half way down the stairs, a raised voice has me pausing.
“He tried to assassinate you,” a woman shouts.
“No. I don’t believe that. My men are searching the city. Once we find him, we will know the truth.”
A shiver of awareness has me glancing over my shoulder. Stefano is just behind me, his expression remote. Taking my elbow gently, he calmly escorts me down the rest of the steps.
Tasteful paintings hang on the walls of the vast living room. My attention takes in the gleaming furnishings and expensive art pieces. The perks of running illegal activities.
“Ah, Evelyn, there you are.” Paulo’s smile starts from deep within his eyes, spreading to the rest of his distinguished countenance. “Come join us. Let me introduce you to my wife, Chiara.”
Hostile brown eyes harden as they flash over me naughtily. Slender, lithe limbed, the woman is stunning in her designer dress, which clings to her trim figure.
“You brought one of your whores into our home?” The disgust she displays is tinged with malice.
Paulo’s shoulders stiffen. “This young woman is a friend of Kay’s. You will treat her with respect while she is under my roof.”
A small silence ensues. Chiara eyes narrow on mine, sending a lick of anxiety through my nerves. Calculation. It's there for one brief moment before it's gone. For some reason, she’s taken an instant dislike to me.
His Salvation: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 12