by Messer Stone
He gestures at a chair across from him and I approach on shaky legs, taking the seat as directed.
“You know,” he begins, stroking the smattering of scruff at his jaw. “You’re awful small for someone who’s caused me so much trouble.”
Somehow, I manage to remain aloof. I don’t want him to know that I’m afraid, so I do my best to appear unbothered. “I can leave if you’d like. Find someone bigger.”
He flashes a slimy grin, his big belly shaking as he chuckles. “I like a girl with a sense of humor.”
I don’t respond to that, and we sit in silence for a time.
“Do you have my money?’’ he asks, at last.
Steeling myself, I answer him. “No. I don’t.”
He doesn’t seem surprised. “I see. Well that’s quite disappointing.”
Again, I choose not to respond.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I shrug. “I don’t imagine you’re interested in excuses.”
“Try me.”
“I didn’t know about my father’s loan until a few days ago. There wasn’t enough time to come up with money.”
His brow puckers. This does seem to surprise him, at least mildly. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No. He’s been unwell… mentally.”
“Hmm. What about your new friend? $135k is a drop in the bucket to a man like Parker Callahan.”
It takes everything in me not to react. I told myself this was a possibility. If he’s had people watching me, he’ll know I have, at the very least, an association with Parker. I just have to do my best to downplay it.
“He wouldn’t help. I’m nothing to him.”
“You work for him,” he points out, eyes narrowed.
“I’m an intern.” I throw in a disdainful snort. “He’s not about to get himself mixed up with the mob for my sake.”
That seems to convince him. With a deep breath, he leans back in his chair, clasping his meaty hands behind his head.
“Well then. Where do we go from here?”
My stomach drops. “That’s up to you.”
This is the part where I have to be smart. From what I managed to learn about DeMarco, I know that he can be reasonable. He can be convinced to forgive debts, but only if you prove yourself to be of value to him. I have no idea how I’m going to do that, but I’m hoping that if I play it cool, he won’t be as quick to dismiss me.
I’m pretty sure the best I can hope for at this point is for him to give me a job, let me work off my debt. I don’t want to have to do anything illegal, but at this point I’m not sure I have a choice.
Vito watches me, his face unreadable. After a long silence, he gets to his feet, walking around his desk and perching on the edge, just in front of me.
“Beautiful. And so young.” He reaches out, toys with a piece of my hair. “So soft. Like silk. Philomena— my late wife— she dyed her hair blonde. It was always so stiff beneath my fingers. Not like yours.”
I swallow, struggling to stay calm. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He scoffs, going back around the desk and returning to his chair. “Don’t be. She was a bitch. And a whore.” A smile curves at his lips. “Nothing like you. You’re much too sweet.”
His eyes roam over my body appreciatively and I have to remind myself not to gag.
“My children deserve a mother like you.”
My jaw drops, when I realize what he’s saying. “You can’t be serious?”
“Why not?” He leans forward, elbows braced on his desk. “You’re a natural mother. Haven’t you been raising your siblings for the past year?”
My thoughts race, my heart pounding furiously. This was the last thing I anticipated. “But—”
“I’ll take care of them too,” he tells me, his demeanor suddenly more businesslike. “I’ll send them to the best boarding school in the country. They’ll want for nothing. They can visit us at Christmas. As for your father— I’ll send him out west. Let him live out the rest of his miserable days in exile.”
I’m going to throw up. Sweat is pooling at the base of my neck. My nails are digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything but panic.
“You will live here with me. If you behave, I will make sure that you are happy.” He pauses to crack his neck, as one might do during a casual conversation. “In return, you will be my wife. You will obey my every order without question. You will raise my children. You will spread your legs for me when and where I tell you to. And then you will give me more children.”
Finally, I manage to speak, my voice shaking only a little. “Do I have any alternative options?”
He flashes an evil smile. “One. I have a friend who runs an… operation, if you will, in Eastern Europe. If you do not marry me, I will sell you to him. And then I will have your father killed, your brother and sister sent into foster care. Unless, that is, I decide to sell them too.”
And just like that, my fate is sealed. The bastard knows it too, flashing a yellow-toothed smile.
“Why don’t you sleep on it? Hmm?” He gets to his feet. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Upstairs, I’m reunited with the surly man when he leads me to what I assume is a guest room. I’m searched and subsequently relieved of my cell phone. The minute he leaves, I hear the lock click.
The room is generic, plain, but not entirely unpleasant. A queen-sized bed covered by a plush, floral duvet. A bookshelf filled with popular novels and DVDs. A small TV placed atop a chest of drawers. It’s small and windowless, but as far as prison cells go, I suppose it could be worse.
Taking off my shoes, I climb onto the bed and curl up into a ball, bracing for the onslaught of despair. My life, or what little I had left of it, is now officially over. I will spend the rest of my days raising children I don’t know while my brother and sister grow up without me in boarding schools. But at least they’ll be safe. I’ll find a way to get a message to Elena— ask her to watch over them.
I’ll essentially be a slave to that vile man, a possession, a breeder of children. And pretty soon, I imagine I’ll be just as disposable as his first wife.
I sob with an almost violent force, my whole body shaking as I curl in on myself, trying to become as small as I can be. Maybe if I can be small enough, I’ll just disappear.
I’m not sure when, but sleep does eventually come. It’s an empty, dreamless sleep, but I welcome the oblivion with open arms. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t last very long.
Rough hands grab me, ripping me from the bed and throwing me to the floor.
“You bitch!”
The sharp-toed point of a boot crashes hard into my abdomen, so hard that it takes my breath away, leaving me winded and gasping as I blink up into the darkness.
Where am I? What’s happening?
The foot strikes me again, this time hitting my ribs with a sickening crack. Tears fill my eyes as I cry out in pain. Hot breath blows across my face as my attacker gets closer, wrapping his hands around my throat. That’s when I notice the glow of red and blue lights, the angry symphony of distant voices, and the screech of sirens.
“Do you know who I am?” he screams, spit flying in my face. “I’m Vito fucking DeMarco! You think you can call the cops on me? I own this city!
His grip on my throat tightens. My body is screaming for oxygen as I push helplessly at his hands.
“Half the NYPD is on my payroll!” He laughs like an insane man. “They aren’t gonna save you. You’re nothing. My men will deal with them and then they’ll go. But you’re staying right here with me.”
“I-I d-did-did—” I gasp, choking on the words as I continue to struggle against his grip.
“You fucked up, you stupid whore!” His grip slackens and I haul in frantic breaths, my heart beating loudly in my ear. My legs are parted by his knees and I hear the sound of him unfastening his belt buckle. “You could have been my wife— you know how many bitches would k
ill for that chance?”
Meaty fingers grab at my sweater. I fight him off with all my strength, but part of me knows it’s no use. With a sharp tear, he rips the top off, and then slaps me hard across the face. My bra is torn off and then I’m flipped over onto my stomach, held down by a hand on the nape of my neck, pressing me into the floor.
“By the time I’m done with you…” he growls, his weight bearing down on me as he grabs at my leggings. “You’re gonna wish you were—”
It all happens at once. The startled gasp, the loss of the weight that was crushing me, the sound of a loud crash. DeMarco curses loudly, struggling against an assailant. The sickening crash of blunt edged violence against flesh, a sound that reminds me of my Dad tenderizing steaks before taking them to the grill out back. Again, and again. I don’t bother keeping count.
Whimpering, nearly breathless with pain, I crawl to a corner wishing with all my might for this to just be over. Eventually, the sounds stop. Helpless to do anything else, I sit there trembling, awaiting my fate.
The glow of a cell phone penetrates the darkness, followed by the fall of footsteps in my direction.
“DeMarco is down. I’ve got the girl.”
My heart lurches— I know that voice! Seconds later a tender hand rests on my shoulder.
“Lonny,” I sob, collapsing against him in relief and then wincing at the sharp stab of pain in my ribs.
“Sshh, it’s alright,” he whispers. Activating the flashlight on his phone, he shines it on me, cursing under his breath. Remembering that I’m naked from the waist up, I try to cover myself.
Lonny tears off his jacket and wraps it around me, helping to gently ease my arms through the sleeves, murmuring reassurances when I cry out in pain. Slowly, he helps me up, leading me to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing here?” I eventually manage to ask.
“I followed you here. I watched you go inside just as Parker called.” Just the mention of that name makes me cry harder. I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything as desperately as I need Parker’s arms around me right now. “The second I realized what was going on, I knew I had to get inside.”
He flips on a nearby lamp, flooding the room with light. DeMarco has been moved and is now slumped against the wall, totally unconscious, his face bloody and nearly unrecognizable.
“How’d you manage that?”
“All that special-ops training from when I was in the Marines. I guess it finally came in handy.”
He goes on to explain that he managed to slip into the crawl space beneath the house where he crawled up into a vent that lead right into the basement where I first met with DeMarco. He recorded the whole exchange and sent it to Parker. Once DeMarco left the basement, Lonny hacked into the home’s extensive security surveillance system, ascertaining my location before deactivating it. He then managed to somehow sneak his way upstairs, holding vigil in the bathroom right next to the room here I was being held.
“So what now?”
“The cops are clearing the rest of the house. Once they say we’re good to go, I’ll take you out.”
“DeMarco’s got the NYPD in his pocket,” I whisper, shivering. “Will they really do anything?”
Lonny sighs. “Maybe not if you were anybody else. Bad as it sounds. But you’re Parker Callahan’s girl. You get all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.”
As if on cue, muffled shouting erupts from somewhere in the house. “NYPD! Get down on the ground!”
My whole body jumps in an alarm, and Lonny puts a light arm around me, pulling me gently into his side.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I whisper, tearfully. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey. None of that now,” he hushes. “I think it was very brave, what you were trying to do. Stupid, reckless, and brave.”
Eventually the SWAT team finds us and gives us the all clear. Lonny ensures that I’m wrapped up in his jacket before scooping me up into his arms and taking me downstairs, where I’m promptly handed off to paramedics and placed on a stretcher.
Lonny’s jacket is cut an inch or so below my breasts, leaving my lower abdomen bare. They gently prod at my ribs and I have to grit through my teeth to answer questions about the pain. When they wheel me outside, I’m assaulted by a disorienting flash of red and blue lights.
“Mercy!” Parker’s panicked voice rises above all the chaotic sound, making me surge up in an effort to find him.
A paramedic scolds me. “Ma’am you need to lie still. You’ve got at least two broken ribs and we—”
“Get the fuck out of my way!” Parker snarls, his voice much closer this time. A second later one of the medics is pushed aside— so hard he nearly falls— and Parker appears at my side, looking like a man insane.
Long gone is the cool and confident mogul that I’ve come to know and love. His clothes are disheveled, his hair looks like someone tried to pull it all out. He all but climbs on top of me as he cups my face with shaking hands, his golden eyes blazing into mine, a furious mix of love and anger and fear and relief.
“Do. Not. Ever.” His eyes squeeze shut as he trembles, and then open again a second later, nearly scorching me alive. “Ever. Do that again.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper meekly. “I didn’t want to drag you into this! I just thought—”
“Shut up.” He leans in, presses his forehead against mine. “God I’m so mad at you right now.”
He’s like a hot-burning coal against me, nearly shaking with pent up fire and rage. Looking around, I watch as DeMarco’s empire crumbles, rubble and remains burning in the wake of Parker’s wrath. I used to think of him as a gallant knight in shining armor, but now I realize I was wrong. Parker doesn’t slay dragons. He is a dragon. Fire-breathing and ruthless. And mine.
“Sir.” A medic tries to pull him away. “We’ve gotta get her to the hospital. She needs to be checked out.”
He stiffens, sitting back with awareness. His eyes travel down my body, burning hotter when they see the newly forming bruises on my neck and bare stomach. My heart catches when I remember how he looked the last time I saw him just outside my front door. Heartbroken and confused by the lies I told to try and push him away.
“What I said to you earlier…” Tears stream down my face as my breath comes short. “I didn’t mean it. I just—”
“Shh. Stop.” He softens just a bit. “I know.”
The medic tugs at him again. “Sir.”
“I love you!” I blurt, unable to hold it in anymore. “I love you so much.”
A memory of DeMarco beating me flashes through my mind and I cry harder. “I thought I was going to die and all I could think about was how I’d never get to tell you that I love you too.”
Parkers eyes fill with tears as he leans forward, pressing a hard kiss to my lips.
“Promise me,” he whispers against my lips. “No more secrets. No more trying to handle things on your own. It’s you and me, okay? From now on. Us against the world.”
Whimpering, I nod. “I promise.”
Finally, I’m loaded into an ambulance. When Parker climbs on beside me, no one dares question him. He sits on a small padded bench against the wall near my head as we hurtle along down the road. For the first few minutes, he’s bent over, face in his hands, breathing hard. Eventually he sits up again, wiping at his eyes before leaning towards me, watching my face as he gently strokes my hair.
“Kiss me,” I demand in a whisper, suddenly desperate for him.
He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut before opening again to look at me, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
“I know why you did what you did. And I understand. Logically, I know you probably think you didn’t have a choice, and I can see why you felt that way. We need to talk later, but right now...I just, I—”
He curses under his breath, leaning back against the wall, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. “This was the worst night of my life.”
; My heart clenches as tears feel my eyes, and I reach out weakly to rest a hand on his knee. After a second, he covers it with one of his own.
“You scared me so bad…” He swallows hard. Opening his eyes he leans forward again, cupping the crown of my head with his palm, his thumb stretching down to caress my forehead. “And right now I’m still fucking mad at you.”
His words are somewhat harsh but his eyes are shining with love, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“I know. But kiss me anyway.”
Muttering under his breath, he shakes his head before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.
CHAPTER 29
Mercy
Suffering through a few broken ribs is never fun. But, in the grand scheme of things, it could have been so much worse. Overall I’d say this is on the milder side of injuries, as far as broken bones go. Certainly not something requiring the attention of the Chief of Orthopedic Surgery at New York University Hospital. Unfortunately, Parker refused to settle for anything less.
“This is ridiculous,” I hiss, glaring at him from my hospital bed.
He shakes his head, putting a finger to his lips. “Pay attention,” he says, nodding to the front of the room where Dr. Danika Novak is explaining the implications of my injuries. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem too put out by the fact that she’s working miles below her pay grade.
“As you know, the CT scan showed that you have small hairline fractures in your ninth and tenth ribs.” She holds the x-ray up to the light so I can see. “Unfortunately, the only way to treat this is with time and rest. And lots of pain relievers. You’ll have to take it very easy over the next six weeks, no sports or strenuous physical activity of any kind.”
“Got it.” Parker nods, his jaw working. “And what about the bruises on her throat?”
“Fortunately, the damage to her neck and throat is largely superficial. The bruises will likely take some time to fade, but her trachea didn’t suffer any structural damage.” She smiles gently. “You’re going to be back on your feet in no time, Miss Chase. In the meantime, just try to relax and let your body heal itself.”