Under Her Skin

by Michelle Love

  “You’re an angel.”

  Lena gave her a strange smile, then left. Ama pondered her expression for a moment, then shrugged and went back to her work.

  She was so absorbed in what she was doing, that when Lens brought the food and coffee back, she forgot about the drink until it was cold. She picked idly at the sandwich.

  “Isn’t it good?”

  She looked up to see Lena at the door. “No, it’s lovely, Lena. Sorry. I got distracted. Did you eat?”

  Lena nodded. “I’ll put that coffee in a microwave if you like? Reheat it?”

  Ama glanced at the cold coffee cup and wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s okay. It’s never the same. Sorry for forgetting about it.”

  Lena shrugged. “It’s no problem.” She hesitated at the door and Ama smiled at her ruefully.

  “Seriously, Lena, you should go home. I’m almost done here.”

  “Then I’ll wait.” She went out of the door and Ama frowned. Lena was acting …weirdly? Was that the right word? Usually her younger friend would be out of the door as soon as office hours were over, ready to party all night with her friends. Ama didn’t know how she had the energy to do that and still be early for work every morning.

  Ama stood and stretched her aching body. The two glass walls of her office, which looked over the conservatory’s atrium, reflected her own image back at her now that the atrium was in darkness.

  A thump came from outside of her office, and she glanced around, expecting Lena to poke her head around the door and apologize for dropping something. Instead, she heard a muffled cry and darted to the door. Tugging it open, she saw a masked man grabbing Lena.

  “Hey!” Anger and adrenaline rushed through Ama as she went to help her friend, wondering where the hell Trevor and Dustin were. She body-slammed the guy, who was twice her size, and he dropped Lena, but grabbed Ama and tackled her, shoving her back into her office.

  Ama staggered back, and the man was on her, driving his fist into her stomach. Ama couldn’t get her breath and Lena attacked the man from behind as Ama tried to stand.

  The man knocked Lena across her desk, and as Ama rushed at him, he grabbed her and slammed her down onto her desk.

  Amalia kicked him hard in the balls and the man went down. Ama slid from the desk and ran to help Lena. She almost made it. As Lena screamed, Ama was grabbed from behind.

  “No! Don’t hurt her!”

  But her attacker threw Ama full-force through the plate glass window. The glass shattered and Ama slumped to the floor.

  Pain. So much pain.

  Her attacker rolled her over, and Amalia realized she had been impaled on a shard of glass which now protruded from her side. She felt faint. Her attacker gave what sounded like a laugh and yanked the glass out of her. More pain. But she couldn’t scream or move. Then she heard Lena screaming. “No! No! Don’t, please don’t. I did what you asked me to do!”

  Ama gave a gasp, pushing herself up into a sitting position just as the man drew the lethal edge of the glass across Lena’s throat. Ama screamed at him.

  “No!”

  But it was too late. Lena’s throat split open and she clutched at it as it began to gush blood. She looked at Ama, her eyes huge with terror and sorrow. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, and then slumped to the ground, pumping red, hot blood onto the floor. Ama tried to move, but the pain of the wound in her side made her struggle and her attacker easily picked her up. As he threw her over his shoulder, she caught a glance of Trevor and Dustin slumped outside the office. Were they dead? There was no one else in the conservatory this late, no one to know she was being taken. She screamed and yelled, but then her assailant slammed her head against the wall and knocked her out.

  The news broke as Enda was driving back from the airport and he nearly crashed the car. “No, no, please …”

  All the radio report said was, “Murder at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music …two young women attacked. One has been confirmed dead. The other is missing …”

  He knew instantly. Ama. Jackson had followed through on his threats. As he turned towards the conservatory, he strained to hear the radio through the roaring of blood in his ears. Please no …

  His cell phone buzzed loudly and he pressed the hands-free. “Gallo.”

  “Enda, it’s me.” Olivier. “Ama’s missing. Have you heard about the killing?”

  “Yeah,” Enda said, relief flooding through him. Missing. Not dead. “Ama’s been taken?”

  “Yeah. Jackson had someone on the inside, we think. Ama’s assistant. Ama’s security detail was drugged. They told us the assistant went out for coffee, as they were working late. The two bodyguards drank theirs, but they found Ama’s coffee cup still full. Look, where are you?”

  “I’m on my way to the conservatory.”

  “Don’t go there. Come home. The F.B.I. are all over the scene and you being there will complicate things. The security guys are being checked out in the hospital, but they’re coming here after. We’ll coordinate the search for Ama and Selima from here.”

  Enda pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. He hesitated for a moment. “He’ll kill her, Olivier. He’ll kill them both.”

  He heard Olivier sigh. “Not necessarily, Enda. Ama’s a smart girl. She’ll know to play up to his fantasies. To convince him she’s ready to be his. If he falls for that…who knows what Ama can make happen. We have to believe in her now.”

  Enda nodded, closing his eyes. “I do. I believe in her. But I can’t stay here doing nothing.”

  “I know. Come home, brother, and we’ll get on it tonight.”

  Raff stroked his wife’s hair away from her face. Hours of surgery had saved her again, but it had drained her, and she had been sleeping on and off for a few days now, barely able to hold a conversation. A worried Raff asked the doctor about the possibility Inca may have suffered brain damage, but the doctor reassured him that wasn’t what was going on.

  “She’s just exhausted, Raffaelo, and in my opinion, she’s probably rocking back from the assault. I’ve been worried that she hadn’t seemed to process what happened, and I think this is that. PTSD is common in victims of assault, and especially with Inca’s past, this doesn’t surprise me. She’ll rally, I promise. In the meantime, Psych will help her.”

  Raffaelo had been relieved it was something they could handle together. It killed him that Inca had been targeted yet again; how much was one woman supposed to take?

  Stella tapped him on the shoulder as she came to visit Inca. Raff smiled at her. “Thank you, Stella. It’s good of you to come.”

  Stella nodded. “It’s my pleasure. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

  Raff looked back at Inca. She was sound asleep again, her breathing regular. “I will, I think. Call me if you need anything.”

  He was almost home before the call came. “Raff …I have them.”

  Raff’s adrenaline spiked. It was his underworld contact. “Where?”

  The contact named an abandoned warehouse outside the city. “You’re sure it’s them?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Raff’s jaw clenched. “I’ll be right there.”

  As he drove out of the city, he tried to stay calm and remind himself that these men might have information that could help them find Ama and Selima. That he, Raff, could ruin everything by killing them. Because, right now, that’s all he wanted to do—rip the bastard who had stabbed his beloved Inca limb from limb with his bare hands and smash the brains of the man who had held her, making her helpless to resist.

  You’re not helping yourself here, buddy. But he couldn’t help remember the terror in his wife’s eyes as these men tried to kill her.

  When he reached the warehouse, he sat in his car for a few moments, trying to steady his nerves. Como, his contact, came out to see him. “Hey.”

  Raff nodded. “Hey. Thanks for doing this.”

  Como half-smiled. “This scum hurt your lovely girl. It’s my pleasure.”


  Raff followed him into the warehouse. The two attackers were on their knees, bruised and bloodied. Como’s men had obviously beaten them. Raff didn’t care. His eyes fixed on the man who had knifed Inca so mercilessly. The man stared back and smirked.

  “Well, if it isn’t the whore’s husband.”

  Raff’s fist smashed into the man’s jaw a second later, his temper unleashed. He beat the man almost to unconsciousness before Como pulled him back. Como bent his mouth to Raff’s ear.

  “My friend …stop now. Look at his accomplice …he’s scared. He’ll talk.”

  Raff nursed his battered hand and stepped away from the coughing and breathless man on the floor. He looked at the accomplice, who turned wide, terrified eyes on him.

  “Please,” said the man, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I helped him …I promise you, I thought he was going to torment her …I didn’t see the knife.”

  Como made a disgusted noise. “Filthy liar.”

  Raff took a step toward the man and he cringed backward. Como’s guard kicked him in the small of his back and he groaned. “I swear, friend, I didn’t know…”

  “…Who paid you?” Raff said in a grim tone. “And don’t lie.”

  “Jackson Gallo. That’s what he,” he jerked his head towards his injured companion, “told me. He told me Gallo said he needed a distraction so he could send a message to his ex-wife. We were supposed to go kidnap your lady. That’s what he told me …he told me to grab her and hold her arms behind her. He had a camera. Said Gallo wanted to see her scared. What he meant was …he wanted to see her die. When he stabbed her …I panicked. Thought if I did anything, he’d kill me too and take the money for himself. I’m sorry about her. I am.”

  The man was jabbering now, and Raff felt pain shoot through him at his words. So, needless. So, cruel. He turned back to the stabber. “You. Talk, now. Anything. And I’ll think about sparing your life.”

  The man spat blood on the ground. “I don’t know anything. Except what he just said. Gallo wanted her killed. Said it sent a message to not fuck with him. I asked him why he didn’t do it himself. He told me he couldn’t leave the States—that he was in ‘seclusion.' That’s the word he used.”

  Raff chewed his lip. “Was this a phone call or video call?”

  “Video.”

  “You record it?”

  The man shook his head. His nose was streaming blood. “No.”

  Raff sighed in frustration. “Tell me about where he was calling from. The room. What was outside the windows? What was the room like?”

  The man hesitated. “I got the impression it was …I mean, there were no windows that I could see and his voice sounded echoey. If I had to guess, I would say it was underground.”

  Raff studied the man’s eyes. He had no reason to lie now; he faced almost certain death the minute Raffaelo gave the order. Even a hardened criminal like this man knew the only way to save himself was by helping them.

  Raff turned away and walked back to Como. The other man leaned into him. “What do you want to be done with them?”

  Raff didn’t answer, struggling with his morality, and Como saw this. “Raff, whatever you need …we’ll deal with it. There need not be any link to you. Let me deal with them.”

  Raff bowed his head and rubbed his eyes. It would be so easy to just let Como kill them and deal with the bodies. But Raff knew of old how much the weight of responsibility would weigh on him. He’d had to kill before to save Inca’s life, and it hadn’t sat well with him, although he wouldn’t change a thing. Knox Westerwick had been stabbing Inca when Raff had killed him. This was a different situation.

  He looked at Como. “No. They might know more. Give them to the police.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Raff nodded. “Very. Too much blood has been spilled already. They can go to jail.”

  He knew he had made the right decision for himself, for Inca, and for Amalia. Any information was critical now, and as he drove back to the hospital, he called Enda and relayed the information he had discovered. A tired, shattered-sounding Enda thanked him.

  “Is there any news, Enda? Anything?”

  “Nothing as yet, Raff. But this will help …we know now they are in California somewhere. If your contact is right and they’re somewhere underground, it narrows things down, assuming there’s a record of it somewhere.”

  Raff heard the desolation in his friend’s voice. “I’ve been there, Enda. I know what it’s like. We’ll find them, I promise.”

  Enda gave a strangled sob. “God, I hope so … I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t.”

  Ama’s head was screaming with pain, and for a long moment, she debated whether or not to open her eyes at all. Her mind was fuzzy, her chest felt tight, and she became aware of her wrists being tied, plastic biting into the skin. Her mouth was tinder-dry, and she couldn’t get a sense of time or place.

  She opened her eyes. There was a harsh strip light above her and it made her eyes water. She blinked rapidly, then saw him. Jackson.

  “Hello, my darling.”

  Ama struggled into a sitting position and saw she was in a cell-type room, with gray concrete walls and no windows. “Where’s my sister?”

  Jackson smiled. “Safe. Her room is significantly more comfortable than this one. If you’re good, I’ll consider putting you together.”

  Ama’s chest tightened even further. “You have me now, Jackson. Let her go. Please.” Everything inside her rebelled against begging him, but for Selima’s safety, she would do anything.

  Jackson laughed. “Really? You think it’s that easy?”

  He came to sit next to her. “Now, I’m going to untie you. If you try anything, my men will torture Selima before they kill her. Do you understand?”

  Ama nodded and Jackson pulled out a knife. He cut the plastic ties and Ama rubbed her wrists in relief, eyeing the blade Jackson held. He saw her watching it and grinned. “Yep. I don’t even need to tell you that this will end up in your gorgeous body if you even think about escaping, do I?”

  “What do you want from me, Jackson?”

  He leaned over and crushed his lips against hers before answering her. “My wife. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “So why keep Selima? Please, Jackson, I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”

  Jackson studied her. “Prove to me you can be a good, obedient wife and I’ll consider it. I promise you that. But you need to be my wife in every way, Ama. Every way. Do you understand?”

  Ama closed her eyes and nodded. God, Enda …forgive me. She felt Jackson’s fingers unbuttoning her dress and felt the cold air on her bare skin as he undressed her. She took her mind out of the moment as he fixed his mouth on her breasts and her belly. Pretend it’s not him, she told herself over and over. She wanted to conjure a good memory of her and Enda, but then pushed that thought away. She didn’t want to forever link this rape—and that was what it was—to the glorious lovemaking she and Enda shared.

  As Jackson pulled her legs around him and thrust into her, a tear slid down Ama’s face. If it weren't for Selima, she would have rather died than give in to the repellent man inside her now. Jackson fucked her, grunting and shouting her name so loudly, she wondered with a pang if, wherever Selima was, she heard it and knew what was happening.

  That hurt the most. As Jackson finished, Ama could not help but burst into tears. Jackson grinned. “Yeah, cry all you want. Next time, I expect you to at least act like you enjoy it. If you do, I’ll take you to your sister, but, by god, Ama, you better give the performance of your life.”

  Enda couldn’t sleep. He was staying with Olivier, and his brother did everything to help Enda feel positive and hopeful. But even though he adored Olivier, his brother couldn’t lift the black cloud that stayed with him at all times. Enda missed Ama—her presence, her voice, her laugh, and her scent. He hated that he woke up alone. Now, in the early morning hours, he lay on his back and looked over to ‘her’ side of the
bed. He pictured her sleeping on her stomach, her eyes closed, the thick, dark lashes sweeping her cheeks. Her green eyes opening sleepily, but softening when she saw him.

  “Hello, baby.”

  He would lean over and brush his lips against hers, then make her laugh by rubbing his stubbly chin against hers. She would stretch that heavenly body as he moved across the bed, his cock already straining and engorged for her, and she would open her arms to him, her legs winding around his hips as he slid into her velvety, wet cunt. They would make love slowly, savoring every sensation that rippled through them both, not caring about morning breath, just gazing at each other. Love. Such pure love. As they became more excited and his thrusts became harder, faster, and deeper, he would hear her gasps for air. When she came, back arching, her belly against his, her head thrown back, her pink lips parted as she gave a moan of release.

  Ama …

  The sorrow inside him was crushing him, and Enda got out of bed and dressed. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the police to show up and tell him they’d found her body. Even if Olivier was right and Ama knew how to manipulate Jackson, the thought of what she might have to do killed Enda.

  He crept out of the house and got into his car. The police said the old Gallo mansion had been gutted in the fire; he was going to go there and see if he could find any clue, anything at all, left in the ashes of the place to tell him where Jackson was holding Ama.

  “No! No! Don’t. Please don’t. I did what you asked me to do!”

  Ama woke with a start. Lena …they’d killed her, but what had she meant by, ‘I did what you asked me to do?’ Was she in on the kidnapping? Ama felt sick, dashed to the little toilet in the corner of the room, and threw up and up until she collapsed, exhausted, onto the floor. For the first time, she noticed a small camera high in the corner of the room, trained on the bed. He was watching her. Ama’s skin began to crawl. How the hell was she going to escape him? More importantly, how was she going to protect Selima from him?