I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two

by Knight, Natasha

  Tears spill down her cheeks. “I want to go home,” she says with a noticeable accent.

  My eyes fill up looking at her. Looking at all of them. I feel responsible for them. Like this is my fault. Like this is something I need to somehow fix.

  I shiver and she reaches behind me with her bound wrists, tugs at something. I look back at it. It’s a man’s jacket.

  She pulls it over my shoulders, the lining cool against my skin as I lean back against the wall. “Thank you.” With my next breath, I smell the subtle scent of a familiar aftershave just beneath that of vomit and urine and fear.

  “Where are they taking us?” I ask the girl sharing my mattress.

  She shakes her head. “We’ve been on the boat for a while. And before that, the truck. I don’t know how long it’s been anymore.”

  Is Cristiano looking for me? Does he know what’s happened? And who was the man with Marcus? The one who told him to cover me up. The man whose jacket I’m wearing.

  “Where are you from?” I ask her.

  “Croatia. Those two are from Croatia too. The others I don’t know.”

  “How did they take you?”

  “I was walking home from school. It was the middle of the afternoon. Bad things don’t happen in the light.” Her voice breaks and she starts to sob again.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sonia,” she manages.

  “Sonia. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  Neither of us believes this lie but I can’t not tell it.

  A door slams against the wall of the room, metal clanging against metal. Startled, I gasp, my head snapping to the man standing in the doorway. It’s the one from the dock. The fat one who cut the restraints at my ankles.

  The women cower away as if one entity.

  The man enters and from behind him follow another three, all with leering eyes, reeking of alcohol and days-old sweat.

  But the one who frightens me the most is the last one to appear at the door. The one who looks clean. The handsome one.

  I know he’s the cruelest of the lot.

  Marcus sneers as he looks in my direction and I remember how he shot my uncle. I wish I could wipe my face because I know I didn’t imagine the blood that splattered it, but I’m not sure if I really feel it or if it’s my mind playing tricks on me.

  The men fan out, moving swiftly as they scan the room. They look at something on the wrist of each of the girls before taking their pick.

  The screams start then but all it takes to shut that down is the big one backhanding a girl so hard that her whole body spins and she slams face-first into the wall. I hear a crack and she drops to the floor of the boat. She’s unconscious or dead. I can’t tell. Broken for sure.

  The screams become whimpers then as the men get back to what they came in here for.

  I open my mouth to speak, to make them somehow stop, but one of the men grips my arm then and hauls me to my knees. I’m flipped over so I’m lying face down on the filthy mattress.

  The girl beside me screams as I feel his hands on me, but then there’s a sound, someone grunting, and I’m hauled to sit upright again.

  “Not that one,” Marcus says. “No one touches that one.” He runs a hand gently over my cheek then grips my jaw so hard he’s about to shatter it.

  “No one but you?” I manage through gritted teeth.

  “Not yet,” he says, eyes darkening. “But it’s coming.”

  He lets go of my jaw. In my periphery, I see the others moving behind the women, hear them grunting as the women whimper and sob. I don’t want to look, but I know I have to. I have to catalog each of their faces for later. For when I can kill these men. For when I can free the women.

  “You like the show?” Marcus asks me. “Is that what turns you on?”

  I turn my gaze to him and spit the biggest spitball I can manage onto his face. It hits his right eye and smears down to his cheek. “Only monsters are turned on by this.”

  He wipes off my spit and looks like he’s about a second away from murdering me, but I know he’s following orders. I know he’s not going to hurt me. He can’t.

  But I don’t realize the most important thing until it’s too late.

  And he knows the moment I understand this. Sees his victory the instant he grabs the girl who shared her water with me. He forces her onto her hands and knees and unzips his pants.

  “No!” I try to lunge at him with my arms bound behind me.

  “Lou!” he calls to one of the men who appears instantly. “Make her watch.”

  The man, Lou, is on me in an instant, kneeling behind me. He’s clutching my face in a vise-like grip and forcing me to look at Marcus, at the poor girl.

  Marcus wipes the spit off his face, looks down at the girl on her knees. He splays her open and smears my spit onto her back hole.

  “No, Marcus, please don’t,” I try. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

  “That’ll be all the lube she gets,” he says as he takes his dick out. “All thanks to you.”

  I’ve seen Marcus fuck women before. I know what he’s capable of. He liked me to watch. Any time my brothers wouldn’t let him fuck me, he made me watch him fuck someone else. It wasn’t to make me jealous. It was to torment me. Because he made sure to punish each and every one of them in my place.

  “Please Marcus. I’m sorry. I—”

  The girl cries out as he thrusts into her without any restraint. “Tight little asshole. She isn’t going to enjoy this even a little bit,” he says. Looking down to spread her wider, he thrusts the rest of himself into her.

  The girl screams.

  I can’t look at her. “I’m sorry! God. No. Marcus, please stop! I’m so sorry!”

  “Lou. Do you have a fucking concussion?”

  The man behind me hardens his grip on my face. I close my eyes.

  “No. Eyes open, Cartel whore. You close your eyes and I’ll slit her fucking throat.”

  I open them. Marcus always knew exactly how to hurt me.

  “Yeah, like that. Watch. And know when it’s your turn, I will tear you in fucking two. You may be valuable now but that’ll change. The minute it does, you’re mine.”

  Behind me I feel Lou’s erection. He’s rubbing it against me through his pants and I’m going to be sick.

  But I’m lucky compared to the others.

  As the boat rocks, lifted high by the waves and dropped back down hard, the men stagger away, sated, for now. All but Marcus who takes his time. Who, by the time he’s finished, has the girl pinned flat to the mattress, her eyes gone glassy, blood on her bottom and thighs.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I tell him when he finally pulls out and stands, zipping his jeans up.

  “I don’t think so,” he says. “Stand her up,” he tells Lou.

  Lou hauls me to my feet and Marcus looks me over. I don’t want to show him that I’m afraid, but I am.

  He looks at my belly, at the dark bruise forming there.

  “Can’t touch your face,” he says to me. “And someone’s already got at you. Was it Jacob? He always did have a hard-on for you.”

  “Fuck you, Marcus.”

  “No, Scarlett. Fuck you.” He pulls his belt through its loops, doubles it over, and begins.

  3

  Cristiano

  Soldiers have already sealed off the dock. Dante got here and took care of it before we arrived. He went to Milan on business after the wedding, which is less than a two-hour drive from here.

  He’s on the docks talking to an old man. When he sees me, he gives a nod of greeting.

  “Christ,” my uncle mutters.

  “You don’t have to be here,” I tell him, surveying the scene.

  “I’m staying.”

  I walk over the gravel road, to the two bodies lying on the ground. I get to the girl first. Crouching down, I touch two fingers to the pulse at her neck, although I don’t need to. She’s dead. I can see it in her still open, vacant eyes.

  Her a
rms are drenched in dried blood. She was hugging herself. Beneath my shoes, it’s seeped into the ground.

  A single gunshot to the belly. It’s a terrible way to die.

  Straightening, I look out over the boats bobbing in the water. It’s a windy day, the water rough.

  The man talking to Dante points to a slip where a boat is missing. Dante nods, takes his wallet out of his pocket. He pulls out some bills and folds them over. He places them into the man’s hand who looks around before taking the money.

  I turn and walk across the lot to Jacob’s body lying on the ground. Gunshot to the head. They weren’t messing around. He probably died instantly. I feel his pockets searching for his phone. I find it in his breast pocket. It’s password protected, which I knew it would be. Charlie can take care of that though. I tuck it away for later.

  On the ground I find a discarded zip tie. Bending, I pick it up. It’s been cut but I can’t help but wonder if it had bound Scarlett. If she stood here and watched her uncle murdered. One more murder committed before her eyes.

  “Cristiano,” Dante calls out.

  I turn to watch him as he closes the last bit of space between us, only sparing Jacob a careless glance down. Jacob’s death is not a loss.

  “Thanks for coming out so quickly,” I tell him. I know how he feels about Scarlett. He’s doing this for me.

  “They take what belongs to you, they take from me. We’re family, brother. Family first, like Dad said.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.” I gesture to the old man. “Find anything out?”

  “Boat that stood there was the Laura Lee. Retired fishing boat the owner has rented out to an anonymous party a half-dozen times.”

  “What’s the capacity?”

  “Will carry about twenty, twenty-four people.”

  “And the anonymous party?” I ask, watching the old man who’d been talking to Dante watch us. As soon as he sees my eyes on him, he lowers his and walks quickly away.

  “Mexicans.” He holds up a battered old phone I know isn’t his. “But he’s got a GPS tracker on it.”

  I peer at the screen, watch the little red dot in the middle of the ocean.

  “Pick up the girl,” I tell two of my men. We can try to figure out who she was at least. “We’ll dump De La Cruz in the ocean. Let the fish get at him. Let’s go get my wife.”

  4

  Scarlett

  Darkness has fallen and it’s quiet. The engine stopped about an hour ago and we’re bobbing on the water. I don’t know why we’ve stopped. I heard some of the men on the deck cursing but it’s fairly quiet now.

  I glance to the girl beside me. She finally fell asleep. I manage to get the jacket off my back and cover her at least a little. Not that it’ll be much help against the chill or what just happened to her. You can’t warm up the cold inside you after something like that. I know.

  I lean back and stare up at the ceiling.

  A few years ago, I came upon Diego, Angel and Marcus talking to men I’d never seen before—men who looked a lot like those who’d entered this room earlier today. There’d been three of them in the large, unused garage on the property—one of Marcus’s father’s properties. More of a small warehouse than a garage for cars.

  In addition to the men, there were six women. When I’d first seen them, I’d hidden and looked in from one of the broken windows. I guess some part of me knew to keep quiet.

  The women were naked apart from shoes. Which strikes me as strange now considering none of us have shoes on, but most are at least somewhat clothed.

  These women stood lined up against the wall, hands bound and hooked on chains hanging from the ceiling. I remember thinking that’s how to hang an animal’s carcass. They had on makeup that made them look almost cartoon-like in its application. They were all standing on tiptoe, even though each wore very high heels. And though none were crying, they all looked like they’d been crying for days.

  My brothers were taking photographs of the women and discussing them like they were pieces of meat. Discussing how much each could bring in.

  I’d moved then, stepping on a branch or dead leaves. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it happened the instant they’d all stopped talking. Before I could even try to run or hide, someone grabbed me and dragged me inside that terrible place.

  I remember feeling confused when I first saw my brother’s faces. They wore guilty expressions, like they’d been caught. Found out. I remember thinking maybe they had a little bit of humanity in them. A little bit of conscience. I was mistaken, though.

  I guess I hadn’t quite put it together yet, what they intended to do to the women. How they were being sold, bid on in an on-line auction in real time as we stood there. It was sick. But I wasn’t sure my brothers wouldn’t do the same to me.

  Except, I was valuable then. Like I am now. Then, they could use me to cement their place with Marcus Rinaldi. By then Marcus had already been going around his father, he and my brothers testing the waters, I guess.

  But what they did when they caught me was worse than any physical punishment they could inflict upon me.

  I look over at the girl whimpering in her sleep. At least I hope she’s asleep. While the events of that night years ago play in vivid color across my mind’s eye.

  It was Diego’s idea. He had a cruelty in him even Marcus didn’t come close to. He was the oldest of my brothers and I think my father leaving his mother to marry mine and Noah’s was something he never let go of.

  Diego asked me to choose a girl. He’d been almost casual about it. Wearing a smile I hadn’t trusted in years.

  I’d refused at first, telling him to punish me. Not them. Begging him to. I wasn’t sure what they’d do to the chosen girl, but I was certain it wouldn’t be good.

  He’d told me again to choose. That it was either one or all.

  So, I chose.

  Because one was better than six, wasn’t it?

  God. I feel sick. I wipe my face on my shoulder, but salty tears still slide down my cheeks and into my mouth.

  He didn’t use a gun. It would have been bad enough if he’d used a gun, but he wanted to make a more lasting impression.

  I’d seen a blood bath before then. Seen the aftermath of my parents’ murders. But what Diego did next, I think it’s what changed me. Broke something inside me. It’s knowing it was me who chose her. Who condemned her.

  And he made sure I’d never get involved again.

  I don’t wish I could forget that night. I owe it to that girl to remember. She died because of me.

  I still hear her screams some nights. Still see my brother’s rage as he wielded the crowbar down on her knees, shattering them. Then moved to her elbows as she hung there, helpless and in agony. Calculated and cruel, he beat her to death while we all watched. And all along, I knew she was dying because of me.

  Just like this girl was raped because of me. I guess Marcus took that page out of Diego’s playbook.

  I turn onto my side, wincing with pain when I do. Marcus lined the front of my body with his belt. From my chest down, he used his belt to lash every inch of me, that terrible man holding me up, shouting at Marcus when the leather caught him, too.

  I didn’t scream. Not once. I know it only made him angrier, but I couldn’t give him that. He stole my tears though. Those I couldn’t help. At least the women quieted. Although what happened to them was a hundred times worse than what he did to me. A thousand times.

  Cristiano feels years away. Me in the house on the island, in that cell, and then upstairs. At his table, in his bed. Noah. Cerberus wagging his tail, so happy to see me. It’s like none of that exists now.

  “Who are you?” a creaky voice asks in the darkness.

  I blink, look around to locate the woman speaking. I find her on the opposite end of the mattress nearest me. There are three others sleeping between us.

  “Why can’t they touch you?” she asks, and I hear resentment in her words.

  “I�
�” how do I answer?

  “He called you a cartel whore. I heard him. Are you with them? The Cartel?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then why didn’t he touch you? You don’t have the mark.”

  “What mark?”

  She lifts the wrist of one of the sleeping girls. A younger one. She shows me the mark made by what looks to be a black sharpie. Just an X.

  “What is it?”

  She drops the girl’s wrist. “Virgin. They get more for the virgins. Crew can’t fuck the virgins but the rest of us are fair game.”

  “They’ll sell them?”

  “What did you think they’d do?”

  That was a stupid question now that I think about it.

  “And they’ll sell us. All of us. Well, maybe not you.”

  I try to ignore the hate in her voice. I can’t blame her. “When? How?”

  “You tell me, Cartel girl.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not with them.” I feel like Peter denying that he knows Jesus. “Didn’t you see what he did to me?”

  “Show me your wrists.”

  “I can’t.” I turn a little so she can see my arms are bound even though she already knows.

  She turns her face and spits. “I know there’s no mark. You’re one of them. You did something to the Italian but what they do to us is still worse.”

  I know it is. I don’t say anything but lower my gaze.

  “Who are you?” she asks again.

  “I’m no one.”

  There’s a sound then, an engine. Both of our gazes flick to the window where a light shines in, waking some of the others before it’s gone again.

  Someone hoots and the sound of men’s boots on the deck grows louder. I hear muffled words. This man is loud, though. He speaks first in Spanish then English. I can tell he’s talking to Marcus, because Marcus doesn’t speak Spanish. He didn’t pick up a single word in all the years he worked with my brothers. Refused to because he’s an arrogant fuck.

  “Just fucking found it. I’m going to kill that old man,” he says, and he sounds pissed.

  “Get the girls,” another man says as our door opens.