by Shanna Bell
Before she could get back on her feet, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up.
“I’m gonna take that cig and shove it up your ass, Frank.”
He thinks I’m Frank.
He’s going to kill me.
Somehow that knowledge cleared her mind, and her fight instinct kicked in. She hit him in the abs with a combo. He barely felt it. Then she kicked him in the shin, which hurt her foot more than it did him. When he threw her against the wall once again, she saw her chance. She grabbed his arm, twisted it, and made a move so she got past him. A victory yell rolled off her lips when she managed to leave him behind her.
She’d barely made three steps when he grabbed her by the hair again. With one pull, her back thudded against his chest. His arms took her into a bear hug, ready to crush her.
Then Vince burst inside, making her cry with relief. One look at her panicked eyes, and he jumped to her aid. He decked Sy and pulled her loose.
“You okay?” he asked, alternating his gaze between Sy, who lay at the foot of the bed, and her.
“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”
Sy cursed and shook his head. Slowly, she could see him come to himself.
“What the—” He looked at her, puzzled.
Carmen cleared her throat, while trying to calm herself. “You were having a nightmare.”
His eyes turned dark again. She could all but see a mantle of guilt covering him from head to toe.
“Take her away,” Sy said, his voice hoarse.
“No,” Carmen protested. “I don’t want—”
“Take her the fuck away!”
CHAPTER 22
VINCE
Vince smacked Chad “Momma’s boy” Ralston in the chin and the man, as well as the chair he was tied to, went down.
Chad spit out blood and a tooth, but Vince didn’t give a fuck. Sy, standing two feet away, grabbed the chair and hauled it up.
After searching for weeks in off-the-grid shitholes and seedy clubs with even shadier people, they had finally found their prey. Chad was one of the four men in the disgusting picture that haunted Carmen’s nightmares. Another was Franco, who he could distinguish even while wearing a mask. The other two had been a complete mystery. Luckily, Chad had a distinct heart tattoo in his neck with his mother’s name on it.
“The way I see it, Chad, you either tell us what we want to hear or my friend here is gonna break every bone in your body. You see, Sy here is on edge and just looking for an excuse to break something. Don’t let it be you.”
Sy gave him a dirty look, but judging by his thundercloud face, Vince knew he wasn’t far off the mark. It was the morning after he’d pulled his friend off of Carmen. Unlike what he’d expected, she didn’t break apart in his arms when he took her to her room. He was quite proud of her for keeping it together. She’d been worried about Sy, afraid he would beat himself up over what had happened.
And rightfully so, because Sy had started the morning by not speaking a word to Carmen. He’d even skipped the breakfast Carmen made him. Guilt was obviously weighing heavy on his mind because nothing else could have stopped him from grabbing his favorite, waffles and maple syrup, from the counter.
With effort, Chad lifted his head. “It’s not me,” he grunted. “I swear it on my mom, that’s not me.” Sweat was pouring down his pudgy face as he slumped back into the chair.
Vince shoved the picture back in his face. “Don’t lie to me.”
Sy had a more hands-on approach. He grabbed Chad by the throat. “Unless you want to swear on your dead mother next, I’d fucking stop lying.”
Chad started making desperate sounds as Sy slowly choked the life out of him.
“Like I said, my friend here is in a bad mood and looking for an excuse to rip into someone.”
Sy growled, but didn’t let go of Chad’s throat.
“What?” Vince challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I put my hands on her!” Sy roared and snapped Chad’s finger.
At least he’d stopped choking him. “You didn’t know—”
“That ain’t no excuse.” Three more of Chad’s fingers followed, until his hand looked like crumpled origami. “That’s what dear old Mom always used to say. ‘Lowell didn’t know what he was doing, Sy. He was drunk. You can’t be mad at him.’ Same went for Mike, Frank, Paul, and every other fucker she ever brought home.”
It was the first time Sy spoke of his childhood. Of course, Vince has seen the scars on his body. The road the cigarette burns had painted on his chest couldn’t be missed, but there were things he knew not to push Sy on. In a way, he was thankful Carmen had broken down those walls.
He just wished it had been in a different manner. Sy wasn’t his brother by blood, but they had fought together, almost died together, and most importantly, had each other’s back. They were family in every way that mattered. It killed him that he thought he had to carry his scars alone, but that was just the way he was.
“You’re not them. Carmen knows that. I could barely keep her from storming back into your room last night.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. She was concerned about you. Still is. I got four messages telling me to bring you home.”
Sy frowned, then turned his attention back to Chad. “Talk. Now.”
“I can’t tell you who they are,” Chad stammered. “They’ll kill me if they ever find out.”
Sy smashed his fist in Chad’s face and flattened his already broken nose. “Kill you, huh? And what exactly did you think I was going to do to you? Make you a basket? Braid your fucking hair?”
A combo of fists plowed into Chad’s face, right up until the moment he slumped to the side and the chair fell. Sy cursed and pulled it back up, looking annoyed as hell.
Vince just sat back and relaxed. This was therapy for his friend. Sy needed this, just as Vince needed to find every fucker in that picture.
Chad spit out a mess of blood and another tooth. The man looked ready to puke.
Vince couldn’t feel any sympathy for him. Men like him still breathing was an insult to trees.
It had taken him weeks, and a fortune in payoffs, to get into Dwight’s private vault at his bank. There, he’d found two pictures in a manila envelope. Both of them showed a naked Carmen with clearly disoriented eyes. In the second one, she didn’t even seem conscious. Around her were four masked men holding whips and canes, including Franco.
The sick fucker had hoarded the pictures, to do God knows what with. Probably to blackmail Carmen until the end of days. Men like Dwight who had everything—money, power—got bored, and went on to look for the next thrill. Some found that in racing expensive cars, others, by preying on the weak. Dwight had been one of the latter.
He should have taken care of Franco sooner. When he’d first came into Obsidian and soon after the sub he’d been playing with had gone missing, he should have taken care of him. Except, back then, he’d believed his judgment was clouded because of the jealousy he felt every time he thought about Franco owning Carmen. The only solace he found was that, in the end, he’d taken out Franco himself.
The last time he’d been in this part of the underground dungeon, Franco’s shouts had been echoing off the walls.
He entered the dungeon to find Hector and Gio already there. They stood before Franco’s slumped body that was tied to a St. Andrew’s cross. He wasn’t moving.
His brother eyes settled on him. “Figure you’d want to be here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. He still alive?”
Gio nodded. “For now.”
Hector left and came back with a bucket of water. He splashed it into Caruso’s face, and the bastard came to, sputtering and cursing.
“This is the end of the line for you, Caruso,” Gio snarled. “No one hurts my wife and gets to live. If there’s a God you believe in, that you want to make peace with, now would be the time.” He walked up to a cabinet and picked up a cane.
“Fuck you, Detta,” Fra
nco spat, eying the cane warily. “You have any idea who you’re dealing with? You’re a dead man. A dead man!”
“You are done, Caruso,” Gio said. “Your family is done. Your legacy, whatever that might have once been, is done too. No one is going to miss you.”
And right in that moment, Franco finally got the memo—he wasn’t leaving this place alive. That’s when his eyes pinned down Vince.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked. “Came to see me dead so you can console my wife? What? You think I didn’t see how you looked at her at the wedding? All men do. She’s a siren. Looking innocent and fuckable from the outside, but once you start fucking her, she’s as cold as a fish.” He let out a harsh laugh. “I tried everything with her. Even took her to a club once, but her pussy remained cold.”
Vince lashed out with his whip, marking Caruso in the face. “You sick fuck. Bad-mouthing your own wife. The woman who has just miscarried your child, thanks to the beating you gave her.”
Caruso’s eyes went unsure for a second, but then he smirked. “Who’s to say it was mine?”
Gio hit Franco in the stomach. Then Vince pushed his whip underneath the fucker’s chin. “Remember Kimberley?”
A hint of recognition flashed in Caruso’s eyes before he masked it. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You butchered her, asshole. I know it was you. Let’s see how well you take to all the toys you put your subs through.”
Gio smashed the cane to his knee, splintering the bone. Vince relished in that sound, which was like music to his ears.
Then the screaming started. Over and over again, until the man was hoarse. Only when he was barely conscious anymore, did Vince slit his throat.
Another scream pulled him back into the present. Then the names followed, one by one. The last one, they had never heard of.
“Who the fuck is M?” Sy wanted to know.
“I don’t know. That’s what they called him.”
“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“Bridemaker,” Chad wheezed out through his broken teeth. “All I know is that he was connected to the Bridemaker.”
Vince saw the same baffled look reflected on Sy’s face.
“I’ve been searching for that fucker for weeks,” Sy said. “Every time I find a lead, it’s like he goes up in smoke or something. What the fuck is the connection between Carmen and him?”
Chad coughed. “I can tell you, but then you’re gonna have to let me go.”
A dangerous gleam entered Sy’s eyes. “Do I now? Now why would I do that if I can just torture the shit out of you until you start singing like a bird?”
“Please! Just hear me out, okay?”
“Let’s hear him out,” Vince said.
Sy looked annoyed. “What? We’re gonna play good gangster, bad gangster now?”
Vince ignored him and looked at Chad. “Start talking.”
“All I know is that the Bridemaker never stays longer than three days in a city. And he only comes back to a city every ten years.”
And there it was—the connection. That picture must be around ten years old. In a weird way, it all made sense now. The rise of Keegan. He was so cocky because the Bridemaker was backing him. And judging by the shipment of fresh brides, ready to be auctioned off in San Fran instead of passing through, the bastard intended to stay. Everyone knew Kristoff didn’t allow child trafficking in his town, so it only made sense for the Bridemaker to want to tip the scales of power in the city.
“We need to get our girl talking,” he said.
When Sy pulled out his belt, Chad started yelling.
“You said I could go! You were gonna let me go!”
“I lied, you motherfucker,” Sy hissed and wrapped his belt around Chad’s throat.
When Sy was done, Vince looked up at him, contemplating their next move. That’s when he saw Sy’s duffel bag in the corner.
“Are you coming?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Sy shook his head. “You know I can’t go back. Not after what I did.”
Vince knew there was nothing he could do or say to convince his stubborn friend otherwise. There was only one person who could do that.
CHAPTER 23
CARMEN
Noon had passed when Carmen’s driver stopped in front of her apartment. She couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the place as her home. It felt like it had been ages since she’d left the mansion she had lived in with Franco. That place was huge and opulent, and didn’t reflect her at all. Honestly, she had no intention of ever going back. Somewhere during the past month, her home had changed into where Sy and Vince were. They had made her stronger, not only in body but also in mind.
Last night, when Sy had thrown her against the wall, was a testament of that. Not too long ago, she would have turned near catatonic with fear at that outburst of violence. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but she felt stronger and more resilient than ever.
And she intended to share that with Sy when he came home tonight. It had broken her heart this morning when he sailed past her, barely able to look her in the eye. His face radiated anger, pain, and rage. She’d wanted to reach out to him, but he headed out the door, not even taking a sip of his morning smoothie.
She thanked her driver as she vacated the car. In her head, she made a three-course meal out of the produce in the grocery bag.
Tonight, she was going to prepare a feast fit for kings, so afterward, she could apologize and at the same time, reassure him they were okay.
Carmen felt her mood plummet when she saw an unwanted visitor waiting in front of the building.
Erica was sitting on the curb, yet again. There was a somewhat panicked look on her face.
“Um, Erica, I don’t think it’s a good idea that—”
“I need your help.” Her voice was close to a shriek.
She wasn’t falling for this again. “I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s a gift for my boy. To apologize.”
If she really believed gifts would help her cause, she truly was deluded.
Carmen sighed. “I don’t think—”
“Please!” Erica looked frantic. “I have to make up for what I did. It’s our family photo albums. See, they resent me for moving on after their father died. I love my boys but, well, they can be very bossy and demanding.”
Carmen didn’t like the way she portrayed Sy. Yes, he was quite bossy, but she couldn’t imagine him standing in the way of his mother’s happiness. That just didn’t seem like him. Then again, family relationships were complicated. There was no telling what they had been through.
She placed her grocery bag on the curb and called Sy. When he didn’t pick up, she tried Vince’s number. He answered after the first ring. When she told him about Erica, he cursed.
“Sy isn’t coming back.”
“What do you mean, he’s not coming back?”
“I mean that he’s being a sensitive asshole, throwing himself on a blade.”
In the background, she could hear the “sensitive asshole” spewing a string of curse words that contradicted his current state.
How dare he leave her? He couldn’t just make her fall in love with him and throw in the towel without even giving them a chance.
She turned back to Erica and almost decided maybe he deserved another meeting with his mom.
“I can’t meddle in between you guys, but I’m going to see Sy now.” If it was the last damn thing she did. “I can give your gift to him for you.”
Erica’s face lit up. “The albums are in the back of my car.” She pointed at a white van around the corner. “Follow me.”
The second Erica opened the van’s back and Carmen saw it was empty, she felt a tingle down her spine. Next thing she knew, a syringe was jammed in her throat.
Crap…
***
Carmen woke up in a shaded room the size of a broom closet. Judging by the buckets, and broom, it actually was one. Her mo
uth was dry, and her head spun a little. How had she ended up in here? And where exactly was here?
She heard a heated conversation in the adjoining room. It was Erica’s voice. “He’ll be here with the money. You just wait and see.” A whimper followed, then she screamed, “Don’t you hurt him!”
Carmen tried to wrap her head around what was happening on the other side of the room. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long.
“My son will pay you! Just call him. Tell him you have his woman and he will pay you. The bastard won’t help his mom, but he will pay for that little bitch.”
Finally, it dawned on her what had happened. Erica had actually kidnapped her by drugging her and probably pushing her into a van. How very serial killer movie-style of her. And how stupid of herself to fall for it.
She pulled herself up and peered through the crack in the door. At the far end of the adjoining room, she made out three figures. As there was a row of cabinets between them, all she could see was their heads. One was Erica, pacing a hole in the floor, and the other two were men Carmen didn’t want to particularly meet.
As the conversation there went on, she started to look for a way out. That’s when she noticed another door on her left, opposite of where the trio was standing. Crawling on her stomach, she got herself through the door and ended up in a narrow corridor. She jumped up and started running. Any minute now, Erica would find out she had split.
Where had she taken her? It resembled an underground warehouse of sorts. Wherever she was, she needed out. Now.
At the far end of the corridor, she noticed a woman open a door and slip inside. Without giving it another thought, she ran after her. In the back of her mind, she wondered why the woman had been wearing a bikini in this place. It was quite chilly after all.
There was no time to waste. She pulled the door open and came face-to-face with a man who had a thin goatee as if he’d forgotten to shave it. Behind him, there was a buzz of activity, with several women in bikinis. Most of them sat on benches, doing squats, and a few looked pale.