by B. B. Hamel
I shook my head and stepped into the room. I felt like I might fall over, like the floor was rushing up at my face. He stepped to me and took my arm. I didn’t have the strength to fight him as he guided me to the bed and sat me down on the edge.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Take it easy. I got you.”
“Get off me,” I said. “Get… get your hands off me.”
He stepped back and looked at me. I leaned back on my hands and took some deep breaths, trying to get myself under control. He stood there and watched me without moving, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze intense and terrifying.
“Please let me go,” I said.
He looked back at me for a long moment. He didn’t smile, didn’t react at all, almost like I hadn’t said anything.
“Come downstairs,” he said. “Have some coffee, maybe some breakfast. We can talk some more.”
He turned and walked to the door.
“Wait,” I said. “You’re going to let me go, right? I won’t… I won’t tell anyone. I promise, I swear I won’t.”
He paused in the doorway and looked back at me.
“Come downstairs, Colleen Colley,” he said. “We need to talk.”
He disappeared around the corner without another word.
I felt a sob rip itself from my chest. I clenched my jaw and nearly bit my tongue open forcing the tears away. I wouldn’t cry, not right now. I had to keep myself together or else I wasn’t going to get through this.
At the very least, I knew he didn’t want me dead, not yet. If he wanted me to die, he would’ve finished me last night while I was unconscious. That meant he had some other use for me, and maybe it would be worse than death, but I couldn’t let myself go down that road just yet.
I stood up, took a few deep, calming breaths, then walked to the bedroom door.
I stood and looked down a short hall. The floors were a light brown wood and looked new. The walls were a light beige color. There was an end table to the left in front of a mirror, and flowers sat in a vase on top of it. There was another door across from mine, another door beyond that, and a staircase leading down at the far right end of the hall.
I walked to the stairs. There was another door on the right, a bathroom on the left, and stairs leading up in the far left corner. I hesitated at the top of the steps leading down, but slowly took them, inching my way forward. My shoulder hurt with each step, but it wasn’t so bad and I forced myself to ignore the pain.
The downstairs surprised me. It was bright and airy. The front window curtains were pushed back, and the early morning sun streamed inside. There were low leather couches with big, fluffy cushions, a flat screen television mounted on the wall, and an industrial style coffee table on top of a gray rug with red and blue geometric patterns.
I looked to the left and saw a long wooden kitchen table, some bookshelves with leather bound books lined up in neat rows and a few framed pictures lining the walls. Beyond the table was the kitchen, and I spotted Steven standing in front of the stove, moving something over a burner.
I thought about running. I looked at the front door and saw that it had multiple locks, and they were all shut tight. Maybe I could rip the chains free, but I didn’t think I’d get it all unlocked before Steven ran in and grabbed me. I could scream and someone might hear, but I didn’t know what he’d do to me if I began to make problems.
So I turned and walked toward the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the downstairs. I saw photographs of Steven when he was younger, arms around the shoulders of some other guys out in a park. There were more landscape photographs on the walls, and I got the sense that they were all taken by the same person.
He turned and looked at me. A small smile played at the corner of his full lips.
“Take a seat,” he said. “Want some food? I have bacon and eggs.”
“Bacon,” I said. “And coffee, please.”
He nodded and looked pleased. I decided that I’d play along, play nice for a little while, at least until I got my chance to get away.
He came over with a plate. Four strips of bacon sat in the middle, with some eggs to the side. He placed a fork down on the plate and a mug of black coffee to my left. Steam rose up from the plain dark blue mug.
“Milk in there,” he said, nodding at a tiny stainless-steel pitcher. “I can get you sugar.”
“That’s okay.” I poured some milk into my coffee, stirred with my fork, and sipped it. “Thank you.”
He nodded, got himself a heaping plate, and sat at the table across from me. He stared at his coffee for a long moment before drinking it black.
“Steven?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Why am I here?” I bit my lip and stared at him, afraid he’d get angry.
But he just looked up and seemed exhausted.
“I understand you’re confused,” he said. “This is a little… unorthodox.”
“That’s putting it mildly. You kidnapped me. You shot me. I think… I think you killed some men.”
He sighed. “I wish you hadn’t just said that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, fear spiking again. I leaned back in my chair, eyes wide. “It’s okay, I just, I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. You can just… please, you can just let me go.”
“That’s the problem,” he said, sipping his coffee again. “I really can’t.”
I had to dig my fingers into the gray cloth-wrapped chair to keep myself from freaking out too much. He looked at me, his face calm, his eyes tired, and he tilted his head.
“Steven,” I said. “Please.”
“Before you start begging again, let me explain,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out. “First, how are you feeling?”
“I’m… okay, I think.”
“Your shoulder?”
“Hurts.” I rolled it a little and grimaced. “But not too bad.”
“Good. Like I said, Dr. Chen is a good doctor.” He stood and walked over to the book case. He picked up an orange pill bottle that I hadn’t noticed and placed it down in front of me. “Take one of those, please.”
I stared at the bottle. I picked it up and read the label. “Amoxicillin,” I said.
“An antibiotic,” he said. “Are you allergic?”
“No,” I said.
“Good. Take one. Dr. Chen said it was a pretty common antibiotic but should do the trick.”
I hesitated, then took off the cap. There could be anything in this bottle, any drug at all. He could be giving me lithium or something like that, ready to take advantage of me.
But he sat down in his chair again with a sigh and looked so tired. For some reason, I took out a white pill and swallowed it.
“Thank you,” he said.
I put the cap back on and sipped my coffee. My mouth felt so dry and I was sweating, but I forced myself to keep it together.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Really. I know you don’t believe me right now, but I truly don’t want anything from you.”
“Then why am I here?”
He hesitated a moment and poked at his eggs with his fork.
“I couldn’t leave you there,” he said. “I felt too responsible. I could’ve called an ambulance, and in retrospect, that was the right move. But instead, I brought you here, and now I don’t think I can let you leave.”
My heart began racing again.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “I swear.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “And even if I did, that’s not the only problem. You see, I looked at your driver’s license, and I know who you are.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“So you know my name,” I said. “So what does that matter?”
“Colleen Colley,” he said. “The name didn’t ring a bell at first. But then I thought about why you’d be in that bodega, thought about your red hair, your green eyes. You’re a good-looking Irish gi
rl, aren’t you, Colleen?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
“Your uncle,” he said. “His name is Mathis Colley, isn’t it?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slow.
“Yes,” I said.
“And that’s why I can’t let you go.” He smiled and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Colleen. But I’m going to war with your Uncle’s organization.”
“My father,” I said, my voice a whisper, “he’s not involved with Uncle Mathis. We don’t… we don’t get along with them. We left the family. We’re not… we’re not involved anymore.” I felt like I was panicking again, and I realized that my worst nightmare was coming true.
That my family’s sins would come back to haunt me. It didn’t matter if my father turned his back on the Celtic Club, they’d pull us back into their dirty world sooner or later.
I should’ve known it the second I woke up. But I was still groggy and I didn’t understand what was happening. I wasn’t thinking about my uncle, because I spent so much of my life trying to act like he didn’t exist.
But it was impossible now.
“Interesting,” Steven said. He picked up his coffee mug and stared at me over it. “And also convenient.”
“It’s true,” I said, anger flaring up. “My father left the Celtic Club a long time ago. We don’t talk to Uncle Mathis anymore. You can ask around, ask anyone in the Club, they’ll tell you.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not on speaking terms with your little Club anymore,” he said. “Not after I killed three of their soldiers.”
I sat back in my chair and tried to steady my breathing. My heart was racing and I knew I was in serious trouble. He was looking at me like he thought I was a liar, and I wanted to scream that I was telling the truth.
But I couldn’t. He thought he knew how things were, and he’d only see some scared girl begging for her life.
Well, I wasn’t going to beg.
I took a few deep breaths then sat forward again. I sipped my coffee and started to eat the small breakfast he put in front of me. I could feel him staring at me, but I did my best not to meet his gaze.
After I managed to choke down the eggs and bacon, I finished my coffee and sat back in my chair.
“I’d like to go now,” I said.
“I bet you would,” he said. “But unfortunately, you’re going to be staying here for a while.”
“You can’t keep me prisoner.” I glared at him and felt my anger rising again. “Just because you think I’m involved with the Club.”
“Oh, darling,” he said, his voice low, a little smile on his face. He leaned toward me and stared into my eyes, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “That’s not the only reason I’m keeping you.”
“What… why else could you want me?”
That smile got bigger and I felt like I might not keep my breakfast down after all.
“Like I said, you’re a good-looking Irish girl,” he said.
“If you touch me,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I’ll rip your dick off.”
He leaned back and laughed. He seemed genuinely delighted, but I stared him down, feeling sick and dizzy and in pain from the wound on my shoulder.
“Oh, shit, Colleen. I love it. But don’t worry, I don’t take what isn’t mine.” He laughed again and stood up, coffee in his hand. He carried his finished plate into the kitchen then turned and stared at me, arms crossed over his chest.
“No,” he said, “I’m going to keep you because you’ll be a good bargaining piece to use against your uncle. Even if your family isn’t involved in the Club anymore, still doesn’t mean he’ll turn his back on his niece. And beyond that, I like the idea of a pretty red head walking around my house.”
“Screw you,” I said.
“Any time you want, darling.” He smiled and walked behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders. I felt a shiver run along my skin and I tried to pull away, but the pain in my wound flared up and I let out a little groan.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
He pulled his hands away.
“I have a meeting,” he said. “But I can’t leave you alone here, so you’re going to have to come with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He stepped back and gestured at the stairs. “Get up and get ready.”
“I don’t have any clothes,” I said. “And these are covered in blood.”
“I’ll bring you up something to wear,” he said. “Go get in the shower and clean yourself up.”
I crossed my arms. “No,” I said.
He stared at me for a long moment then let out a sigh.
“We’re meeting with the Don of my family,” he said. “And so I can’t have you smelling like blood and sweat and fear. So get your ass up, go take a shower, and I’ll bring you fresh clothes. And if you play nice, I’ll give you a little bit of freedom tonight instead of locking you in that bedroom. Okay?”
I stared at him for a long moment then crossed my arms. “No,” I said again.
“Fine,” he said. “I tried to do this the nice way.”
I didn’t have time to react before he grabbed the back of the chair and pulled me away from the table. I turned my body toward him and lifted my arm, intent on hitting him, but pain flared in my shoulder again. I let out a groan as he stooped down, slid his arms behind me, and lifted me straight out of the chair.
I stared at him, mouth open, too angry and in too much pain to say anything. I tried to hit him weakly, and only managed to brush my left hand across his cheek. He let out a little grunt but didn’t break stride as he carried me upstairs. I noticed a padlock hanging on the doorframe and I realized that’s how he kept me inside, as he carried me into the room, into the bathroom, and deposited me on the ground.
I stared at him from the cold tile floor as he stepped over me and turned on the shower.
“Dr. Chen said to be careful with the stitches for the next few days,” he said. “Clean it, but be very gentle. Pat it dry when you’re done. There are new bandages under the sink, and if you need help getting it on, I’ll come up.”
I looked away, down at the porcelain tub. I could see spider-webbed cracks in its smooth white surface, and I wanted to scream, wanted to kick. But I knew it wouldn’t do much good.
He had me. And I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Get showered,” he said. “If you’re not cleaned up by the time I come back, I’ll carry you into the shower, strip you naked, and clean you myself. And trust me, I’d much rather we did it that way.”
I didn’t look at him as he turned and left the room. I heard the bedroom door shut and a lock click into place.
I felt alone and so small. There was nothing I could do right now. The bastard had me, whether I liked it or not.
And I knew there was no escape.
If he was going to war with the Celtic Club, he wasn’t going to let me go. Pretending like he might was just a fantasy. He was right, even if my father wasn’t involved with the Club anymore and I had no real affiliation, Mathis was still my uncle, and he was still the Club’s Second.
I was a bargaining chip for that bastard. Just a tool for him to use.
I hated him. I hated him so much I couldn’t breathe.
And yet the memory of his touch still lingered. His strong arms, his concerned face as he picked me up from the floor of that bodega. He carried me back here and saved me, all before he knew who I was.
He didn’t want me to die, even though he could’ve left me there if he wanted.
That kept bothering me. He could’ve just left me there on that bodega floor and ran off. The bodega’s owner would’ve called an ambulance.
But instead, Steven took me into his home and took care of me.
He only decided I’d be a useful bargaining tool after he’d already saved me.
Slowly, I got to my feet and stared in the mirror again.
I hated what I saw. But slowly, I took off my shi
rt, then my bra, then the bloodstained pants and the plain cotton black panties beneath. I stepped into the shower and let the water run down my hair, down my chest and my face, and I washed away all the blood that had dried in the cracks of my skin until I was clean again.
3
Steven
Colleen sat in the back of my SUV and stared out the window. I could see her look at every single person we passed with some hopeful gleam in her eyes, and I knew she was thinking about making my life difficult.
But she didn’t scream, which was smart.
Luca sat in the seat next to me, wearing a clean dark blue button-down shirt and a pair of black pants. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and he wore a shiny gold watch, probably spent half a fortune on the thing. I didn’t bother with watches or diamonds, that sort of stuff could be stolen too easily.
I invested my money in my businesses, in my clubs and my laundromats. Some of them were fronts and some of them were real businesses, and I wanted to turn all of it into real cash-generating enterprises in the next few years. Making money with the mafia was lucrative, but it was risky and violent. If I could always have some legitimate fallbacks, I’d be set for life, assuming I lived very long.
Luca stifled a yawn as I turned into Old City, heading toward the Don’s house.
“How late did you get back?” I asked.
“Late,” he said. “Went the long way, kept anyone off our trail.”
“Good,” I said. “You hear any chatter yet?”
“The Club isn’t happy,” he said. “Killed three of their good soldiers.” He grinned a little and shrugged. “I’m guessing they’ll try and hit back tonight.”
“I hope so,” I said. “Let them come.”
Luca laughed and glanced in the rearview. I saw him looking at Colleen, and I knew what he was thinking.
The girl was beautiful. She cleaned up well, and although her hair was still wet, she had these perfect pouty lips and pale skin that drove me wild. She wore a pair of jeans with a gray t-shirt and a green zip up sweatshirt that I borrowed from my neighbor who had a teenage girl around Colleen’s size. The clothes were surprisingly flattering, and the jeans made her ass look fantastic.