by R. J. Lewis
Throughout, droplets of water fell over my head and face by Green Eyes. He put the bottle to my lips at some point, and I sipped a little. I hated to admit how much it helped. I hated even more that I felt a shred of gratefulness toward him.
So fucked up.
Finally, the car came to a slow stop. The engine followed, and then the doors flew open from both sides. I waited, anticipation coiled inside of me. I forced myself up, ungluing myself from the leather seats.
“I got you,” whispered Green Eyes, sliding his arms around my waist.
I was too weak to move on my own, much less squirm from his hold. He practically carried me out of the car and set me down. I felt cool mud beneath my bare feet. There was little breeze, but it was better out here than being suffocated in that stale car.
“Walk forward,” he directed me, and I did.
I peered down from the blindfold, seeing a tiny slit between my nose and cheek. I could just make out my puffy dress, feet and the mud I was trying to wade with surprising effort through.
We didn’t walk far when Green Eyes yelled, “Approaching! Open the gates.”
I heard something unlatch followed by the creak of what must have been the gate. Immediately, I slowed my steps, feeling a sudden wave of trepidation wash over me. I was walking into the unknown, no idea what was awaiting me on the other side.
He tugged me forward, not harshly but firmly. I reluctantly followed. I tried not to panic, but the unknown was a terrifying thing. The sound of music hit me, growing louder as we moved toward it. Rap music in the middle of the jungle. The lyrics familiar.
“Cause ain’t no such thing as halfway crooks
Scared to death, scared to look, they shook
Cause ain’t so such thing as halfway crooks,
Some get shot, locked down, turn nuns,
Cowardly hearts and straight up shook ones, shook ones
He ain’t a crook son, he’s just a shook one”
Shook ones by Mobb Deep. The boys from Riptide Estate used to listen to this when they pretended they were gangsters. I had a strong feeling these guys were the real deal. A shiver ran down my spine. More resistance in my legs as we plodded forward. I heard voices but they quieted as we moved closer.
“Yo, Reaper!” Green Eyes called. “Delivery! Entregar, isn’t that the fucking word? I don’t know the fucking word.”
We stopped moving, and he let go of my arm. For a long moment, I just stood there, not knowing who was around me, or how many there were. More concerning was feeling like I was completely alone and knowing I wasn’t.
Then… slow, heavy footsteps approached us. My breathing hiked as I caught a pair of black boots through the crack in the blindfold stopping right in front of me. The music felt muffled as the blood rushed through my ears. Anticipation was worse when it collided with fear.
I felt a hand grab at my blindfold. Now I was swallowing. Fingers dug beneath the edges, and then the blindfold was torn off me in one swift move.
He ain’t a crook son, he’s just a shook one
I was the shook one for sure.
I blinked rapidly, letting my eyes adjust to the light and the giant figure standing in front of me. All blurred, he looked like a massive collision of green and black. When my sight settled, my heart climbed my throat, depriving me of all air.
Boss.
This… was Boss.
And he wasn’t a weedy man at all.
Jesus Christ Almighty, the man was easily over six feet tall, wide and solid as a fucking wall. His hair was raven black and loosely tied back. His skin was deeply tanned, nearing bronze. He was wearing a tight black tank that stretched across his vast chest and rippled stomach. His arms were covered in black tattoos and deep scars, some silvery, others pink and new. And surprisingly, his physique wasn’t the most threatening part about him. It was his gaze. His eyes were dark, almost black, and so scarily deep and focused. They were predator eyes. And the second they hit my face, I was the prey, a bird in front of a tiger about to play with its food.
Jesus, I had to breathe.
I was so fucking fucked.
What was wrong with me to have thought so lightly of the man in the first place? I was wrong to have likened him to the stuffy men I had seen all my life, who had never so much as dared to strike at the daughter of such a powerful man. I was in a different world now, with very different men.
Expressionless, his eyes flickered from my face to my body. I was suddenly glad to be wearing this ridiculous dress. It felt like a good enough barrier now, except for the fact he didn’t look at me the way Green Eyes had back at the plane. Actually, there was nothing wanting whatsoever there.
I felt like a piece of inventory.
Admittedly, it wasn’t what I was used to. I’d learned from shit experiences that most of the men in this sort of life were deprived of most morals when it came to women. They looked at you with an agenda behind their gaze. Either you fulfilled some necessary function – like being on the other end of their dick – or you were cast aside for some other goal in mind.
And he wasn’t looking at me like I was either. That was what unsettled me. There was…nothing in his face I could read. The indifference was startling. It threw me for a loop because I was usually so good at discerning people. I could easily catch the slightest shadow of a feeling there in the depths of someone’s eyes, and I got nothing – nothing – at all from him.
When his eyes hit mine, I shivered involuntarily. It was a crazy thing to admit – that I shivered at the attention of a man, but man, I fucking did. I shivered because the coldness there in his expression was unlike anything I’d ever seen, and it terrified me.
I didn’t like this. I didn’t like it at all.
If this was the man that ordered my abduction, he didn’t look one bit happy that his delivery had made it. After a quick look over, he looked away from me and at Green Eyes. Looking almost bored, he nodded once at him and turned his large back to me, like I was an item in passing that required no more needed attention. I should have felt relief, but mostly, I was gobsmacked.
What purpose was I?
What did they want from me?
Why dismiss me with a nod?
Why look straight through me?
I’d travelled days to get here. My body was broken. My life was in this man’s hands, and he simply greeted it with a nod?!
YOUR DELIVERY MADE IT, GODDAMMIT!
I wanted to scream that. I wanted him to know that I was a living, breathing thing and I was at his fucking mercy! But clearly that meant nothing. Nothing at all.
The blindfold came back on, and I was taken away.
Six
Liv
Green Eyes placed me in a room and cut the rope around my arms, slamming the door shut behind him on his way out. The sound of a lock followed and then his footsteps faded away. I’d been too scared to remove the blindfold, still shaken by that man. For some time, I stood there, my feet rooted to a hardwood floor, unsure of what to do.
Every inch of me felt paralysed. The last time I’d felt like this was a few years ago when I had a night terror. I’d woken in the middle of the night sensing someone was standing by my bed, and even though I knew it was in my head, I couldn’t seem to let my body understand. I had been frozen to the mattress for over an hour, slowly shaking the presence of the imaginary figure standing there. It had always been Bogeyman, haunting me, the ghost I’d conjured in my head to terrify me when I was alone, or vulnerable.
And I felt fucking vulnerable now more than ever before, but Bogeyman was the least of my concerns.
When I was finally able to stir, I removed the blindfold, blinking rapidly at my surroundings. I took in the tiny room I was alone in. There was a single bed with a thin blanket and a patio looking chair beside a small barred window letting light in. On the other side, there was a door that led to what I figured was a bathroom. And that was it. There was nothing else but me.
I went to the bed and sat down on the
edge of it. My body felt sorer than it had ever been, especially my arms. Moving them was agony. I put my hands in my lap and sat there for a while, allowing the silence in. I never liked being alone, but for the first time I felt relieved to be. It let me be weak without being witnessed. My façade at seeming indifferent came at me like air did, but inside I was a trembling mess. I buried my face in my hands and let the tears escape. Just as quickly, I wiped them away and took a few calming breaths.
You’re alive. You’re okay. So long as you’re breathing, you’re okay, sweetheart.
I found it funny I was using my father’s words to soothe me. He had only ever been soothing once, and that was when he found me. After that, he had remained cool and distant, regarding me more as an asset than a daughter he claimed I was. That was probably the last thing I should have had on my mind, but there it was, my father of all things.
I forced myself up and went straight to the bathroom, feeling relieved I’d gotten that right when I swung the door open. My bladder was about to burst, and maybe it had on the plane ride here. I couldn’t tell when my legs were already damp with sweat. Lifting my dress up was hard. Every movement exhausted all the muscles in my body, but I did what I could.
The toilet was cracked and looked like it’d seen better days, but it flushed, and that was better than squatting in a hole in the ground. There was an ancient looking bar of soap on the sink. I debated using it, wondering what other hands had touched it, but one look at my hands and I knew I had no choice.
“Still better than the tunnel,” I reminded myself.
The squeaky faucet turned and spurted water in all directions, which, again, was better than no water. I grabbed the soap and washed my hands thoroughly, desperate to remove all the grime collected under my nails. Not knowing if the water was clean enough to drink, I resorted to splashing it on my face before blinking up at the faded mirror in front of me.
I almost didn’t recognize my reflection. I leaned in, taking in the dark bags under my eyes and pale complexion. The make-up had mostly faded, though it was smeared around the eyes. Covered in a streak of thick sweat, I looked deathly. I’d never seen myself in such a state since I was a kid. Since…my mother went to sleep.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” I closed my eyes, trying hard to grasp what her voice had sounded like. Time disturbed it, and I wasn’t sure it was hers or my imagination.
The door opened just then. My heart raced as I wondered if it was that man. It took me several seconds to get my breathing under control, and then I slowly stepped out of the bathroom, confused by what I was seeing.
There was a woman setting a tray of food on the bed. She angled her head to me when she heard me step out. Then she straightened herself and turned to look me over. I did the same.
She had blonde hair and it was tied up high. Her skin was tan and slightly red from the sun. She was tall, slender, and very beautiful. Her eyes were a light shade of green, her lips pink and plump. She was wearing a button up tee that she tied into a belly top, and a pair of long green cargo pants.
“I’m Christy,” she said in perfect English. “The guys said you would be hungry.”
I looked between her and the tray of hot food. Had she been ordered to give me something to eat? Was she too abducted then, or forced here?
I looked back at her, inspecting her comfortable demeanour and cool expression. I caught the way her eyes trailed me again, and the faint jut of her right eyebrow, like she was bewildered by me. Why was she looking me over so critically?
She couldn’t be like me, I decided straightaway. She was too relaxed. Too poised and sure of herself.
“There’s a bucket in the bathroom. You can fill it up to wash the mud off yourself. I can also get you a change of clothes, if you want.” She waited expectantly for me to answer. I kept my lips shut, deciding not to respond to her. She was part of them, I could see that from a mile away.
She would have quickly realized I wasn’t going to talk, but she didn’t leave. She inspected me again, this time less critically. “I’d hear about you, you know,” she murmured, wistfully. “The secret daughter of Milo Dillinger, imprisoned in her ivory tower while the rest of the city kids starved and struggled. It’s nice to see what you look like in the flesh. It’s been a hot topic around lately. There aren’t a lot of pictures of you, you know. None too recent, anyway.”
She didn’t say that rudely, more introspectively. She was talking about a time there when my father had to flex his muscles and inventory in the grocery stores were cut short in response to an attack from a small gang threatening to take his turf. His starvation stint was a punishment and warning to the people to not fuck with him again. It worked, and when they found out about me, I was made out to be a privileged princess. Nobody knew about my past, and my father worked to keep it that way. Although, let’s be honest, nobody knew about me back then either. I had been invisible, a nameless wanderer. It used to bother me I was made out to be a disconnected, spoiled bitch, but their ignorance was justified. They didn’t know about the start of my life. I would probably have felt the same.
My father did his best to keep me out of the spotlight. His reasoning was simple: the less attention was on me, the less danger I would attract. I kind of wanted to scoff at him in that moment. He failed epically.
This Christy woman seemed genuinely intrigued by the story my father threw at everyone when he took me in and slowly revealed he had a daughter. But I wasn’t going to give this woman squat about it. Not when I had other things on my mind.
“My cousin,” I said, instead, “where is she?”
“Your cousin?” she repeated, confused.
“Is she here? Did they bring in another woman?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Are you just saying that?”
“It’s just you,” she said, firmly.
Had they left Sonja and just taken me then? I hoped for that desperately. But if it was revenge against the faction, they would have taken her too.
“Reaper will come see you soon,” she then informed me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You should eat and clean yourself up before then.” Being clean was the last fucking thing on my mind. I stood still, waiting for her to leave. She caught the gist and nodded once. “I’ll be back too.”
When she left, I waited a few moments, listening carefully as her movements faded away. Then I went to the door and tried opening it. As expected, it didn’t even turn. Ignoring the pangs in my stomach at the smell of the food, I raced to the window at shoulder level and grabbed at the metal bars, pulling at them. Of course, they didn’t budge. Huffing, I looked out, taking in a series of pole construction cabins with thatched roofs, raised a foot off the ground on stilts. There was a fire pit to my right, just within viewing, and a couple men already gathered around it, kicking at a pile of ashes before attempting to spark another fire. I caught the back of the blonde coming to their side, setting a cast iron pot by their feet and speaking to them. They looked at her and smiled – fucking smiled – as she knelt and helped them. I was right about her.
Enemies.
Enemies everywhere.
My stomach growled louder, and I backed away, feeling angry at myself for wanting to eat. I’d gone hungrier before, for fuck’s sake. Eating their food felt like they were winning. It was silly to think that, given I needed energy in case I found the opportunity to flee. Still, that fucking stubbornness inside me fought me tooth and nail to resist from eating. But I needed to be logical about this.
Energy, Liv. You need it.
Ignoring the irrational side of me, I forced myself to sit down, inspecting the food closely. There was a bowl of soup with corn in it, but no spoon. On a separate plate was rice and red beans, and next to that was a bottle of water.
Choosing food over water, I gingerly picked up the tin bowl and rested my lips on the rim, taking small sips. It was warm and tasted like simple chicken broth, but it was already taste sensory overload. I made quick work of
it, gulping it down. The feeling of it hitting my stomach was sensational. It was like I’d never eaten before. Throwing the bowl down, I grabbed at the plate next and didn’t waste time. I scooped the fork next to it and stuffed chunks of food down my throat. The rice was plain, and the red beans undercooked, but fuck that, it was amazing. Within minutes I was licking my fingers, relishing the taste.
I was in the middle of licking the plate when I heard footsteps outside the cabin. I stood up and hurried to the window, peering out in time to see the blonde walking behind…him. The man with predator eyes.
It was too soon.
Much too soon.
I backed away quickly, already hearing them approaching the other side of my door. Throwing the plate down, I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, consumed with anxiety. The food was going to climb up my throat any second. When I felt my legs wobble, I walked backwards and sat on the bed, waiting with bated breath.
Seven
Liv
The door opened, and she entered first. I didn’t keep my eyes on her long. I knew he was trailing not far behind. I was right. When he entered after her, his eyes immediately found mine. I sat upright, putting on my front. I was Milo Dillinger’s daughter. I grew up in wealth and under the power of a ruthless mob boss in control of the most powerful faction in all of Winthrop. I had nothing to fear.
If only I could tell my body that!
I told myself all this as I sat rigidly straight, watching him grab the chair by the window and setting it right in front of me. He was hardly two feet away when he rounded the chair and sat down on it. I glimpsed him quickly, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the way he spread his thick legs apart and settled his elbows on his knees, leaning in to stare at me. His black eyes were endless, his stance intimidating. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. He frightened me more than anyone ever had. More so than Bogeyman, who had done enough trauma in my life.