He twirled me around so my pelvis was pressed hard against the terra cotta wall of the balcony. He pressed himself against my back. Hard. I could feel every ridge of his manhood on my spine and lower back. I pressed back against him, overcome with desire.
As he spoke into my ear, his voice sounded odd from the mask.
“Today we are strangers,” he said. “We just met on the sidewalk below. I’ve brought you here to fuck you.”
I pressed my body back against him and moaned. The Molly was starting to make me feel incredible. I was up for anything.
He lifted the back of my dress as another samba school started. I felt the rhythmic throb and vibration of the drums over every inch of my body.
Damien stood and suddenly was inside me. There were thousands of people only a few yards away, but they were all below us. Nobody could tell what we were doing. Besides, the mask made me feel invisible.
With Damien moving inside me, I stared at a woman from a samba school on the street below.
She had perfect ebony skin. Her flesh looked like velvet. Only small gold stars covered her nipples, connected to gold chains that led up to her neck and down to her belly button. On her head was an elaborate gold and white feathered headdress. Her eyes were lined in deep kohl. Her entire body slick with a metallic sheen of sweat. She wiggled her hips, and the samba band behind her followed suit as she gyrated and moved the parade past us.
Damien breathed four words into my ear. “I love you, Gia.”
He pulled me into the bed with him. I was wild with desire. As we made love, I stifled every small alarm or negative thought that tried to enter my conscious. I deserved to love and be loved, and all the zingers of fear were old patterns, old records that told me that everyone I loved died.
Dante was right. I was so terrified to lose another person I rejected love.
This time it would be different.
The samba schools were still passing by when I got up, tugged on a silky robe, and snuck to the bathroom. Damien had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately after we made love. Usually he was not like that. Normally, he was still attentive to me, rubbing my back and stroking my hair. He must be worn out today.
In the bathroom, I closed the door so the light from the bathroom wouldn’t wake him. I took off my mask and squinted at the light as I threw cold water on my face. Examining myself in the mirror. I smiled. I was happy. I was satiated and happy. But also, high. So fucking high.
Was this love? It felt so different than what I had felt for Bobby. My love for Bobby was comfortable, natural, like another part of myself, a warm, cozy blanket on a cold night. My love for him was soothing and felt right, as if there was nobody else on earth for me.
With Damien, I felt as if I might die if I didn’t see him every day. Instead of warm and cozy, it felt like a wild, dangerous ride. An addiction. Dangerous but irresistible. The most exciting adventure I’d ever been on.
I rummaged for a toothbrush and toothpaste in my overnight bag. Damn. I’d forgotten the toothpaste back at the villa. I was sure Damien had some. I cracked the medicine cabinet. As I did, I realized that the drug had affected my vision.
Everything was shiny and bright. Earlier when I peeked in, the bathroom had seemed shabby and even a little dirty. Now, it sparkled. Everything glowed and glinted. It was a side effect of the pills.
I found the toothpaste in a drawer, and when I put my toiletry bag back down on the counter, I missed. The bag tipped over, sending its contents clattering onto the tile floor.
I froze. Had the sound woken Damien? I listened but didn’t hear him stirring in the other room. I leaned down to pick everything up, brushing it to one side and scooping up containers to put in my bag.
One of the bottles had rolled back behind the toilet. The building was old, so in some places the walls didn’t meet the floor and there were small crevices. As I crouched and reached for the bottle, something glimmered in one of the spaces, catching the light. It was pink and sparkly.
I nudged it. It didn’t come out. I got out my tweezers and pulled it. Then I dropped everything. The tweezers fell with a clang.
It was a fingernail. A bloody fingernail. With a small rhinestone set in hot pink nail polish. The nail was ripped.
It was the same as the fingernails I’d seen in the photo that Sydney had showed me of Alaia.
He’d taken the missing girl here.
Time stopped. I stared at the nail. My face grew icy and yet sweat dripped down my temple. My hands were trembling. I was suddenly freezing. My entire body shook with cold.
Noises seemed amplified. The dripping faucet in the tub thudded and echoed loudly. The vibration of music from the street pierced my bones. The whirring electricity emitted from the bare bulb hanging above me penetrated my brain.
I heard the floor creak outside the bathroom, somewhere in the other room, and it was as if an alarm had gone off in my head.
Heart pounding, I scrambled to my feet, scooping up the fingernail in my palm just as he entered the bathroom. His mask hung loosely around his neck. I vaguely remembered yanking it down there so I could get to his mouth.
“What are you doing?” His voice was stern. The sweet tone from earlier had disappeared.
“I was looking for toothpaste.”
Something about my voice alerted him. His eyes grew dark.
“You dropped the tweezers.”
Leaning down he scooped them up. I held my breath.
He stood and examined them carefully. I tried to keep my face blank but knew the horror I felt inside was seeping through.
“What have you been getting into while I was asleep, Gia?”
My eyes darted to the door. He didn’t miss any of it.
53
Wait and Watch
Gia had come out on the balcony alone at first.
Then Damien had joined her, pulling on a mask.
Sydney lost view of the balcony just as the first samba school started.
The crowd had grown as dozens more people filed into the narrow street. Despite her best efforts to fight against it, Sydney was caught up in the tide and ended up two blocks down. She’d have to circle back around if she wanted to keep an eye on the pied-à-terre.
Her fear was that Damien would leave the apartment alone. But she wasn’t sure enough to actually break into the place. For now, she would wait and watch.
54
Monster
I had to make him think I wasn’t a threat. That I was weak and debilitated from the drug. Okay, I actually was a little bit, but I could exaggerate it.
First, I had to swallow the fucking heartache that threatened to make me scream and cry. How could somebody I’d fucked—no made love to—be a monster. How could I have been so blind.
Goddamn it all.
“Out.” He gestured with his chin toward the bedroom. I slipped past, keeping my hand in a fist, hiding the fingernail.
He followed me and then stood between me and the door.
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad?”
His eyes narrowed. It was if he was battling with his emotions about whether to believe me. “Gia? What were you doing in the bathroom?”
“I told you.”
The fingernail was still tightly clenched in the palm of my hand. My arm was down at my side.
His eyes went right to my closed fist.
“What’s in your hand?” Damien grabbed my wrist. That’s when I saw that his other hand held a knife. A long, shiny butcher knife. My eyes involuntarily flickered toward the small kitchen island. A knife was missing from the wooden block.
Holding the knife to my throat he ripped open my palm. The fingernail fell to the floor.
He leaped back as if it were on fire.
His face grew red and he panted loudly.
I watched, terrified. It seemed like I’d never met this man before me. Violence suffused his entire body, transforming him into a stranger.
He didn’t say a word. But his eyes rose from the fing
ernail to my face. Before I could react, he had thrown me on the floor. I instinctively curled into a ball but not before he got a solid kick into my ribs.
I gasped in pain.
“Get up.”
I scrambled to my feet.
With one hand still on the knife, he grabbed a giant roll of plastic and gestured toward the bed. “Help me put this on the bed.”
The horror of that plastic was replaced by irrational anger. “No.”
“What?” He actually seemed surprised by my refusal.
“I’m not one of your victims, Damien. I’m different. You know it. I know it.”
“I thought you were special,” he said. “But now that you know, you have to die. I won’t ever stop. I thought I could love you and continue my lifestyle, but I see that was a foolish dream.”
He did think I was special. That was my advantage. That is how I would get out of here.
“Damien,” I said, making my voice soft. “We are soul mates. I don’t care if you killed someone. I’ve killed people. Did you know that about me?”
I spoke as fast as I could. I was still on the floor. I wanted him to look down on me. Think of me as weak and ineffectual because of the drugs I’d taken.
He drew back slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t research me.”
He shrugged.
“You know I’ve killed before, right?” I said it in a rush. This was my chance. I took a deep breath. “I’ve killed. And I’ve liked it.”
“What?” Now his face was really scrunched up.
“I’ve been looking for someone to share that with. For so long. And now I’ve found you.”
I held my hand out to him for him to pull me to my feet. I held my breath, waiting. This would determine everything. If he believed me. If he bought my lies, I had a chance. If he strapped me to that bed, I was done for.
I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to fight him when I was seeing double, but I knew I’d have a better chance standing.
Reaching down, he yanked me to my feet, but instantly sprung back with the knife. Still wary.
“I realized something tonight when we were making love,” I said, moving toward him, my eyes locked on his.
He cocked his head. His body tense. It looked as if he would spring forward and attack any second. The knife in his palm was steady, aimed my way.
“What did you realize?” His voice was calm. But the look in his eyes revealed his curiosity. He’d not expected this. Not one bit. He needed to believe me. I needed to say it and mean it. In some way.
I swallowed. “That I love you.”
I reached toward him and stroked his cheek with my fingertips. He closed his eyes. The tension drained from his body, as if it had deflated. The arm holding the knife dropped to his side.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t make you pay for what you’ve done,” I spat, arching up and lunging for the knife. I grabbed his arm with the knife and turned the blade toward him. He managed to twist the knife out of my grasp and it dropped to the floor at the same time my head came up and cracked his chin. The blow sent him flying back. I swiveled, moved forward, and planted a foot into his chest, sending him reeling. Then I aimed for his crotch. He crumpled, howling in agony.
Knowing I only had seconds, I raced to the door and fumbled with the deadbolt, my heart racing like mad. I could feel him behind me, struggling to get to his feet. Finally, flinging the door open, I raced down the stairs. At the bottom, I started undoing the three deadbolts, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight as I heard the wooden landing at the top of the stairs creak.
“Gia. Get back here. You don’t want to leave. If you do, I’ll be forced to kill you.”
At that second, the last deadbolt slid open. I yanked open the door as I heard the terrifying pounding of him racing down the stairs after me.
Instantly, I blended into the crowd on the sidewalks, imagining him at my back, yanking my hair to pull me toward him. Fighting and pushing through the bodies, I hoped I was gaining ground, putting space between us. The music was deafening, so I couldn’t hear anything as I wove through sweating, costumed bodies. As I passed one woman, much shorter than me, I ripped the mask right off her head and strapped it on my own face.
I kept running. I dodged in and out of crowds as the samba music throbbed around us and fireworks exploded overhead. Hands clutched at me, touching me intimately, caressing me, tugging at my silk robe, sending shocks of fear down my spine as I imagined the cold steel of Damien’s knife slicing through my skin.
At one point, the parade had stopped in front of me. Everyone clapped and danced in time to the samba school. While I tried to force my body between the dancing spectators, I turned my head, glancing back behind me for the first time. Through the other bodies, I saw his creepy masked face clearly. He’d pulled his mask up onto his face. Even so, I could tell his eyes were wild. Dangerous. Blood lust had overtaken him. I saw the blade of a knife in his hands glint in the streetlights.
I ducked, scrambling low to try to hide as I made a sharp turn that took me close to the buildings instead of the street. Glancing behind me I saw him coming steadily toward me. Then I saw that a small wall blocked my way ahead. I turned and in an alcove, saw a doorway. To the right was a passageway. But it could be a dead end.
I was trapped.
He knew it. He slowed down. He would stab me in the crowd. Nobody would know. And then he’d be gone. Nobody would even be able to hear my scream. But I had no choice. I turned halfway toward the passageway, turning to see how close he was behind me.
As I did, I felt cold steel on my neck.
At the same time, now only five feet away from me, Damien froze.
His eyes were fixated at something over my shoulder. His look was filled with hate. Slowly, trying not to take my eyes off him, I tilted my head, trying to see what was behind me using my peripheral vision.
I couldn’t see anything. I was too afraid to take my eyes off Damien. But then to my surprise, he backed up and disappeared into the crowd, ducking in front of a huge float that took up the entire street. The cold steel left my neck.
I whirled around.
Sydney stood there holding a gun at arm’s length in front of her.
When I caught her eye, she winked.
55
Brainwashed
Damien, that murderous motherfucker, slipped away in the crowd. At first Sydney stepped forward, ready to give chase, but reason stopped her. He had too much of a lead. He’d taken advantage of the float and used it to escape.
She’d get him another way.
On her own terms.
Gia was now at her side, reaching down to scratch behind Blue’s ears. “So, happy to see you pretty boy,” she said.
Blue, who was between the two women, licked Gia’s hand and then nudged Sydney’s thigh.
The music grew faint as the samba school moved past.
“Let’s find him and kill him.” Gia spoke without looking at her.
Sydney didn’t answer.
Turning on her heel, Sydney cut across the street quickly, keeping an eye out for Damien, but if her hunch was right, he’d fled, putting as much distance between them as possible.
Gia was close behind her. Sydney ducked into an alley way and then, after looking behind them and seeing nobody in pursuit, turned again quickly.
It was only when the samba music had dwindled, that she stopped.
“He’s in the wind,” she said. “Let’s find something to eat and figure out where he might be.”
They entered the favela. The streets were darker. Few people were out. Everybody was at the parade. But one restaurant had a few café tables on the sidewalk and a bright light on inside.
Sydney pulled out a chair and sat. The owner came out and stood before them.
“We’ll have whatever you want to bring us,” Sydney said. The man smiled and disappeared back inside. “And beer.”
Gia c
ollapsed into the seat beside her. “I need some strong coffee or something to sober up. He gave me Molly.”
“You mean he offered it, and you took it?”
Gia nodded, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Stupid.” She put her head in her hands. “Everything. Everything I’ve done since I met that man is stupid. I feel like I’ve been brainwashed, living in a cult and only now has the fog lifted so I can see reality. So fucking stupid.”
Sydney reached out and put her hand on Gia’s arm. “He was giving you something to make you feel that way. I can’t prove it yet, but they’re called love pills. You’ve been drugged. I think we need to take you to see a doctor.”
Gia rolled her eyes. “Would you go to the doctor in my case?”
Sydney slowly shook her head no.
“Exactly.”
Sydney hadn’t heard the thunder or seen the lightning since she’d come to Rio, but that didn’t mean it had gone away for good.
“He’s a fucking charming, manipulative motherfucker,” Sydney said. “How do you think he’s made it to where he has?”
“But he’s a murderer, isn’t he?”
Sydney shrugged.
“But then again, so are you,” Gia said, her eyes trained on Sydney’s face.
Sydney smiled and said, “Takes one to know one.”
For a few seconds, Gia looked astonished, but then she smiled.
The owner set a beer before them and Sydney took a slug.
“We don’t have time for a pity party or an analysis of where we’ve gone wrong,” she said. “We have to find him and stop him before he disappears for good.”
“What?”
“Dan traced some conversations, texts, emails. Damien made a huge wire transfer out of a Swiss bank today. I’m talking $50 million dollars. He’s going underground.”
“Holy shit. Well how can we find him before he does?”
Sydney shrugged.
“I’m sure he’s not going to back to his little pied-à-terre,” Gia said, frowning.
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