I wrinkled my nose and squirmed, pulling up on my hands that I found zip-tied to a chair.
Hooknose angled his head one way then the other. “You sure are a pretty thing with those big greens.” His thorny voice felt as if he were sticking thousands of pins in me all at once.
Horror, dark, twisted, and eerie, swirled in my gut. Any numbness I had was history. Maybe if I went back to sleep and woke up again, I would find myself in a cozy room, curled up next to Dillon with his arms around me, protecting me. Or we would be sitting at a table at Tapas, eating, talking, and laughing. Then maybe he would kiss me.
Instead, I sat chained to a chair in an open and vast warehouse. I took inventory from all sides that I could. Windows high above told me it was dark outside. A door was carved in the corner on my right, and when my gaze darted to my left, my jaw fell into my lap. Six cages lined the side wall. They were filled with women who were watching what was about to happen to me. They’d probably been in my shoes not that long ago. I gripped the arms of the wooden chair so hard, a splinter dug into my palm.
I welcomed the pain. It reminded me I was alive, at least for now.
“Boss,” the other man who I couldn’t quite see said. “Do you want me to throw her in the cage until she’s ready?”
Ready?
Hooknose produced a large hunting knife from somewhere behind him.
On instinct, I thrashed around, even though it was pointless.
The man came at me, holding the tip of the blade eerily close to my face. I tried to kick, but my legs were tied to the chair too.
He dragged the blade down my face until he reached the scar on my neck. “Who gave you this horrible scar?” He sounded as if he cared.
I spit in his face, or tried. My spittle only dribbled down my chin.
Hooknose guffawed loudly, grating on my nerves.
“Boss?” the other man said, his feet clicking on the cracked cement floor. When he drew up alongside his boss, my blood pooled at my feet.
I slid my gaze to Hooknose. “Who gave me this scar?” I bared my teeth and flicked my chin at his soldier. “He did.”
The flashback was swift, and I couldn’t stop it.
“Shut the fuck up,” Cory had shouted as he rammed his dick into me over and over again.
I had shut up only because I’d munched on his ear.
I smiled at the memory before zeroing in on his right earlobe. A small piece of his skin was missing, and that earlobe was shorter than the other.
Studying me as if he were an animal trying to figure out his prey, Cory Calderon loomed over me once again. Only this time, he wasn’t holding a knife or raping me. He wasn’t tearing my body apart like he had when I was fourteen. Nausea rose like a fast-moving hurricane. I had wanted this moment since that horrific day. I’d wanted to catch him doing something illegal so I could give Ted the evidence he needed to put Cory away. But as I sat there, shrugging out of a drug-induced state, more than anything else, I wanted to kill Cory with my bare hands.
I wanted to erase that smugness he was wearing with pride.
Hooknose gave Cory a sidelong glance. “Are you sure this man gave you that scar?”
Cory bore his dark, evil, and ghostly eyes into me as though he dared me to say yes.
I glowered at Cory while answering Hooknose. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t like when my girls are scarred,” Cory’s boss said. “I lose clients.”
Cory swiped a fat hand over his thinning black hair. He seemed to be thinking quite hard. Then a chilling smirk emerged. “I remember you now. You were my first victim.” He sounded proud of that. “You fought hard.” Then as if the doors opened wide to the memory, he tugged on his ear.
Come closer, I chanted silently. I wanted nothing more than to rip off the rest of his ear. “You deserved that scar,” I seethed.
He spat on the floor. “You and me are going to have a good time tonight.”
His boss watched as though he were enjoying the show. I could’ve sworn I saw admiration wash over Hooknose’s hardened face.
Sick bastard.
I knew what I was thinking shouldn’t be said, but I had to say it anyway. I had to show Cory I wasn’t afraid like I’d been that night. I had to show him that ears weren’t the only things I could bite off or rip apart.
“You’re right about one thing,” I said. “I’m going to have a good time.” I would do everything in my power to make sure Cory felt pain. Up until now, I’d wanted to do the right thing in my revenge to take down Cory. Not anymore. I wanted to kill him once and for all. I wanted to end his life so he wouldn’t violate and hurt another woman again. Jail would be easy for him. A slow death would be a far better punishment.
The women in the cages were silent, though I bet they would want the same. I could only imagine how many women Cory had ruined both physically and mentally in the years since he’d attacked me.
First though, I had questions. “Why am I here?” I addressed Cory’s boss.
“I need your help,” Hooknose said.
I laughed, a hearty one, and in that moment, I realized something. Caged women. Cory. Black Knights. I was talking to Miguel Rivera. “You’re the leader of the Black Knights. You’re Miguel.” I’d been so obsessed with Cory that I hadn’t connected the dots sooner.
Cory chewed on his thin lip. “Miguel, let’s end her now. I’ll take care of her body.”
I should have been shaking in my flats, and part of me was, but I’d wanted to infiltrate the Black Knights as an undercover prostitute. So there I was. Only I was confused. Miguel wanted my help?
Miguel hauled short, stubby fingers down the length of his jaw, while the lone light from above glinted off the blade he held with his other hand. “I see we have a smarty-pants here. Bravo. You figured out I’m Miguel. Let me share some facts about you.”
Cory folded his arms over his white shirt, which I hoped would be saturated in red by the time I was done with him. He opened his stance then cupped his hands in front of him.
I snarled for no other reason than to make me feel as though I were doing something.
“Maggie Marx,” Miguel started. “Reporter for the Boston Eagle. Grew up in the foster care system. A former gang member for…” He tapped the blade to his lips. “Bloodhounds. Yep, that’s right. Friends with Detective Ted Hughes. You live by yourself in a run-down apartment in the south end, drive a beat-up VW Bug. Your boyfriend is Dillon Hart, who runs a shelter for runaway girls. It recently opened if I’m not mistaken. How am I doing so far?”
Most of that information on me was public knowledge. Well, maybe not foster care or that I was close to Ted. Dillon’s shelter, on the other hand, was a business, which meant that was public record. Nevertheless, sex trafficking and runaway girls at a shelter mixed quite well for Miguel. At least the spark in his eyes said so, and that made me grip the arms of the chair tighter.
“You’re wrong about one thing.” My tone was even. “Dillon Hart isn’t my boyfriend.”
Miguel bobbed his head. “You don’t mind if I kill him, then. You don’t mind if I kill his sister either or his brother doing time in the joint?”
My pulse was sprinting around the track. “You can’t kill someone who is dead, and the Hart sister is dead.” I all but spat poisonous venom at him. I couldn’t show I cared. The minute he got any notion that I did, he would use it to his advantage somehow. “Anyway, how does your knowledge of me got anything to do with me helping you?”
Miguel ran a finger over the sharp edge of the blade. “You’re going to help me get Hart’s sister. The one you claim is dead isn’t. The one who has been working for me.”
Grace had run away at sixteen. A runaway girl at that age would be vulnerable, would fall into the charms of a man, especially if she was seeing the world for the first time. And she would be the perfect candidate for sex trafficking—young, pretty, and naive. “Say she is alive, I can’t see how I could help.” I’d never met Grace, and a total strange
r wouldn’t trade her life for mine.
“Ah,” Cory said. “As smart as you are, you’re kind of stupid.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You see, Maggie,” Miguel continued, ignoring his underling. “I’m banking that Dillon Hart has a soft spot for you. After all, you were at his house all night not that long ago.”
The bastard had been tailing me. Ted had been right. Dillon had been right. I’d never gotten the sense someone had been following me, though, not until earlier that night.
Cory gave me a smirk of all smirks that said you’re going to be great bait. “He’s going to come for his girl.”
Miguel’s upper lip lifted as a glimmer of excitement swept across his face. “We’re going to make it easy for him. He’ll come for you. Grace will show up to save her brother, and boom, I get what I want. You see, Maggie, Grace loves her brothers. She’ll do anything for them. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t killed Denim yet, although my men in prison did a number on him. It’s funny what my men can uncover in prison. But I couldn’t use Denim for this job. I couldn’t even use Duke, not with all his bodyguards. Besides, I eventually want to do business with the older Hart brother.”
Duke was an ass, but after his furious exchange with Dillon recently, I didn’t get the impression that he would delve into the sex-trafficking business.
Regardless, Miguel was underestimating Dillon. Rafe was a badass that I wouldn’t want to be caught on a dark street with. Hunt was equally as scary, and he worked for the Guardian, which was owned by a mob boss if I weren’t mistaken. I had tried to do a story on Jeremy Pitt when I’d first started at the Eagle. To my inexperienced surprise, my story hadn’t gone to print. I suspected Jeremy had paid off the big bosses upstairs. I didn’t know that for sure. Still, Hunt had an army of ex-military dudes he could call on if Dillon needed backup.
What am I thinking? All Dillon has to do is contact Ted. I’m not sure if he will given the tense interaction they had.
The gorilla who had grabbed me at the restaurant marched up and whispered something into Miguel’s ear.
Miguel waved his hand. “I’ll be right there.”
Gorilla hustled out.
“Throw her in a cage. I have to see if I can convince her boyfriend to do a swap,” Miguel said to Cory.
“He’s not coming to save me.” I prayed he would. Dillon had a big heart, regardless of whether he had feelings for someone. Case and point being the shelter. He had put his hard-earned money into a project to help women. Yet as big as his heart was, blood trumped everything. He’d even said his sister came first. He wouldn’t dare swap me for Grace, especially after finding her again.
I wouldn’t complain if he stormed in with guns and an army to save me, but deep down, I wanted him to save me because I meant more to him than a random girl who needed help.
But I couldn’t wait for help. I had to find a way out of there. I had to find a way to save me and those six young girls in the cages.
Miguel pocketed his knife. “Oh, and Maggie? Next time you want to snoop around someone’s house, you should be more inconspicuous.” He started to walk away.
“Was it you who killed Nadine?” I wanted to hear him say yes.
Cory pulled out a switchblade. The clicking sound made the hackles rise on my neck. “No, sweetheart. I hold that honor. She knew too much about our organization.”
Sick bastard.
“Daddy will be proud to hear that,” I shot back.
Harold Calderon’s business would be ruined once my story went to print. Whether the elder Calderon knew of his son’s illegal involvement with the Black Knights, it didn’t matter. People would scurry to pull out their investments faster than the speed of light, Dillon included.
Cory pressed the tip of the blade underneath my chin, spitting his vile onion breath in my face. “My father will never know what I do in my spare time.”
I lifted my chin as Cory pushed the blade a little harder into my skin without breaking through.
Miguel and the other gorilla faded from view, and I heard the door squeak open then closed.
Cory searched my face. “I should end you now.”
“Do it, then,” I taunted. “But first let’s at least have a fair fight. Unless you really are afraid of me.” I could handle Cory. Adrenaline was a great weapon to have, and I knew how to fight.
He seemed to be considering my offer.
“No weapons,” I added.
He was much taller than me, broad in the shoulders, fat hands, and big arms. None of that mattered. I knew the points on the body to hurt, and I wasn’t talking about his balls, although that was a great start. Lou had taught me to subdue my enemy first. I had to get him into a position where I could go for the throat and knock the air out of him. Once I did that, I could help those girls, and we could run like the wind.
I had an advantage over the girls in the cages. I was big-boned. I had hips. I had strong muscles in my arms.
Cory threw his head back and roared with laughter so loud that the girls in the cages cringed as though they’d heard that nail-grating sound before. If it weren’t for my legs being tied to the chair, I would’ve kicked him right in the nuts.
When he was done laughing, he puffed out his chest. “You want to fight me?”
I tilted my head. “Are you afraid?” Men like Cory were all about ego, regardless of sex. Considering Cory preyed on women, I was banking that he would jump at the chance to swing his fists at me.
In two seconds flat, he cut the ties off me. “Let’s see what you got.” He pocketed his switchblade.
I rose too fast, and the room spun. Whatever drug they’d given me hadn’t worn off completely.
Cory waved me on. “This should be fun.”
I sized him up and studied his body language. He was loose, not afraid. His arms were at his side, which meant that he was begging me to run at him. He wore a gold hoop earring in his good ear, and his hair had a bottle of gel in it. The grease would make it hard for me to pull out his strands one by one. But I didn’t cat fight like other girls. I wasn’t going for the hair but rather his throat and then his balls.
He looked down his short nose at me. “Are you going to stare at me all day?”
“Kill him,” one of the girls shouted.
“I could break you in two,” Cory said.
I opened my arms. “What are you waiting for?”
He rushed at me like a linebacker in a football game. I darted out of the way. He stumbled then caught himself, growling.
His nostrils flared. “I will end you.” He took out his switchblade and charged me.
I would have liked to say that my eyes didn’t bug out of my head. But I couldn’t stop the memory of the sound of the switchblade engaging or the image of him on top of me.
His face was beet red. Mine had to be too. But all I could think about was protecting myself. I would never let him hurt me again.
I sidestepped him. He was onto me, though. He swung around quickly, and the blade scored my face. Hot rage gripped my chest. I reared back my arm and went for my target. My fist connected with his throat.
All he did was laugh.
Well, Lou, that didn’t work, not on Cory. That move had worked on one guy I’d tussled with in a gang fight once.
All six girls were making noises of “ah,” “oh no,” and “watch out.”
“You can’t hurt me,” Cory cooed.
The warmth of blood trickled down my neck then my chest.
Cory stomped closer to me. This time I didn’t move.
All I could think about was getting the blade.
He bowed his head, admiring his artwork that he’d carved into me so long ago. My chest heaved rapidly, trying to quell the panic. Before I could do anything, he traced the blade over my scar then ripped off my shirt.
I gulped in air and blew it out. “You like when a girl submits to you?”
“I like when she fights,” he whispered, his gaze lingering on my big brea
sts. “You sure turned out to be a fine-looking woman.” He fingered my blond locks that I’d left unbraided for Dillon.
Nausea tumbled deep in the pit of my stomach. I hated Cory, and I hated what I was about to do. But I had to inflict pain on him. I had to feel some satisfaction after what he’d done to me. I lifted up on my toes and kissed Cory on the mouth.
He stiffened. Then as though a light bulb brightened in his head, he positioned the knife against the side of my neck. “Not going to work.”
We’ll see about that. I continued to use my female charms, tuning out the girls who were telling me not to go there. They knew something I didn’t. But I was invested now. So I let my hands roam along his chest as I locked eyes with him, hoping mine weren’t showing fear and hoping he was buying my moves, which I was almost certain he wasn’t. But a man, especially one that raped women, could be tempted.
He allowed me to feel his chest and abs, which were surprisingly firm. When my hands reached the buckle of his belt, he pressed the tip of the blade into my skin.
I didn’t flinch. I feigned a sultry grin. “I like it rough.” Okay, I just puked in my mouth. That was true. I did like rough sex, but with someone that turned me on.
As if my statement was the assurance he needed, his body slackened. With one hand on his belt, I dragged the other one down to his crotch and found that he was fully hard.
I squeezed his erection and kissed him on the mouth again. He hadn’t lowered the blade. In fact, I could feel the pressure of the tip. But any pain was nonexistent.
I stuck my tongue through his lips, trying not to die from the stench of onions. He opened for me before his free hand went around to my lower back. He yanked me to him, pressing his erection into me.
As soon as his tongue hit mine, I bit down so hard, the knife dropped from his hand.
Cory wailed, his voice bouncing off the rafters.
The girls cheered. “Get the knife.”
I dove for the weapon that had fallen far from my feet.
Cory brought his hand to his mouth before spitting out blood. “You bitch.” He sounded as though he had a lisp.
Hart of Darkness Page 22