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

by Knight, Natasha

“I do care.”

  He spins me around and slams me so hard against the wall that my vision blurs. I have to grab hold of him to steady myself.

  “I should kill you.” He wraps his hand around my throat.

  “Where is he?” I ask as he squeezes.

  “Fuck my promise. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. I should kill you here and now.”

  “Where is he?” I manage, clawing at his forearm as his grip tightens.

  He hauls me up by my throat, forcing me onto my tip toes as he dips his head lower so we’re nose to nose.

  “Where is he?” he asks, spitting the words.

  My nails dig into his forearm but it’s no use. I can’t get enough air.

  “He’s dead, Scarlett. He’s fucking dead.”

  26

  Scarlett

  Dead?

  No.

  No.

  Dante drops me and I hit the floor, my head bouncing off hard stone.

  Cristiano is dead?

  “Did you find those pieces of shit?” someone asks.

  I roll onto my side gasping for breath, the back of my head throbbing.

  “Just the girl.”

  I struggle to open my eyes and the room spins, the two of them standing over me like giants. Dante and David.

  “She’ll have to do.”

  I hear Cerberus’s growl, turn my head just enough to see him stalk into the room, teeth bared.

  “For fuck’s sake. Get that beast away from me.” It’s David. Cristiano’s uncle.

  I watch Dante take Cerberus and walk him away from us, but when David reaches down to grab hold of my arm and roughly haul me up, Cerberus tries to lunge for him.

  “Cerberus!” Dante tries to command him but even as my head lolls, I can see the effort it’s taking him to hold the huge dog back.

  David has me by both arms and gives me a hard shake. “Look at me.”

  I try. I can’t seem to keep my head up or my eyes open, not to mention getting my legs under me without my knees giving out.

  “Fuck,” David curses.

  “What do you want with her? We go after Felix now. Leave her in one of the cells. I’ll take care of her when I’m finished with Felix,” Dante says.

  “That’s not going to work for me.”

  “I made my brother a promise. Leave her to me.”

  “Your brother’s dead. Any promises are void.”

  More men enter the room as I’m finally able to stand upright.

  “I promised,” Dante says. “Dead or alive.”

  David turns back to me, grasps my jaw with one hand and tilts my face up to look closely at me. He hands me off to one of the men who just entered.

  “Cristiano,” I croak, my throat hoarse after being nearly choked to death.

  “Take her to the chopper.”

  “I said no!” Dante argues.

  David goes to him. “Listen to me,” he starts, voice menacing, but quickly shifting. David sighs, hangs his head. He looks back up at Dante who is a few inches taller than him. He smiles. “Your brother is dead, Dante. You and I are all that’s left of the Grigori family. I love you like a son. You know that. I’ve taken care of you like a father when you family was murdered. When your brother couldn’t be there for you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Let me take care of this one final loose end. Then we can get on with our lives.”

  Dante looks at him and I see how David’s tone and words are getting to him. Either David is a very good actor or what he’s saying is authentic. I’m going with the former.

  “It’s my final promise to my brother.”

  “Your brother was fooled by her. She deserves what I have planned.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “She’ll get exactly what she deserves and Felix will never get his hands on her. He’ll never use her to make the cartel fall in line and come after us.”

  Dante looks at me over his shoulder, but I can’t read him at all. “No,” he says to his uncle.

  “What did you say?” David asks.

  “I promised my brother,” Dante says firmly.

  David squares his shoulders. “Your brother is dead.”

  Dante glances at me once more, the look in his eyes one of utter pain, complete defeat. He nods.

  “Get her on the chopper,” David orders the soldiers.

  27

  Cristiano

  Let go.

  My mind fights the fog and each time it does, pain comes raging back, the sounds too loud, the lights too bright.

  Let go.

  I slip again. It’s easier like this. Easier to slip away.

  Crème caramel eyes.

  Scarlett.

  Pain.

  If you die, she dies.

  I know that. Her life is linked to mine. She will only survive if I survive.

  The light changes. It’s brighter and softer at once. And warm. It’s warm here. A little girl’s giggles bubble around the other noises. I open my eyes and look down at Elizabeth. She’s so little. Maybe two. We’re at the beach. I buried her in the sand and I’m tickling her tiny feet. She’s giggling and giggling and although she can pull away, she doesn’t.

  “Cristiano,” my mother calls.

  I turn to look over my shoulder at her. She’s standing at the pier. And she’s wearing the same dress she had on the night of the massacre. It’s already stained red.

  “Cristiano.”

  Giggles draw me back to my little sister who is wiggling her toes waiting for me to tickle her again.

  If you die, she dies.

  I close my eyes and feel the pain again. Hear the sounds blotting out everything else. Machines and people and too much noise.

  Let go.

  I’m so tired I want to let go but there’s some part of me that won’t let me do it.

  “Cristiano.”

  This time when I look up, mom’s closer. She’s standing just a few feet away. So close I can smell her perfume. I had forgotten the scent along with everything else.

  “Mom.”

  I stand up. I’m taller than her now. Does she know her throat is slit? Does she know the blood has dried around the gash?

  I swallow, try not to look at it. It’s dark behind her. Shadows all around her.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  She smiles, reaches out a hand to touch my face. The way she used to when any of us fell or hurt ourselves when we were little. Her hand isn’t warm like it used to be though. It’s cold.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  That’s when it happens. When it all comes flooding back. When all the memories I’d lost take me under like a tidal wave. Like a tsunami. I stand under the weight of them and look into my mother’s eyes, trying not to see the gash on her throat as everything rushes me.

  I stumble but she holds my hand and somehow, she steadies me.

  The sun is gone. I didn’t notice the clouds that rolled in, but I feel the wind, bitter and punishing.

  I look down, seeing Elizabeth. She’s not in the sand anymore. She’s standing beside our mother holding her other hand. She’s five now and she, too, is wearing the dress she wore the day she was killed. She too is cut, bleeding. No, not bleeding anymore. She already bled.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell my little sister as an unbearable pain twists in my side.

  Elizabeth reaches her other hand to me and holds mine.

  “I miss you,” I tell her, then turn to my mom. “I miss you all so much.”

  My mom reaches out to touch my face, wiping my cheek. Her finger is smeared with red when she pulls her hand away.

  “I know you do but you can’t stay,” she says, and the scene shifts again, the clouds gone, the sun back. Elizabeth bright and happy again, no blood, just her pudgy little body in her bright yellow bumble bee bathing suit.

  “Why not?” It would be so easy.

  Elizabeth squeezes my h
and and I look down to her. “You have to go back.” It’s like moving through mud here. Even shifting my gaze from one to the other is like dragging myself through thick mud.

  “Why not?” I ask my mom again.

  “Because she needs you. If you die, she dies,” my mother says. “And you made her a promise.”

  Crème caramel eyes. Scarlett. Scarlett alone again. Scarlett unprotected again.

  I promised to keep her safe and I’m breaking my promise.

  Pain. Bright, fluorescent lights. Noise. So much fucking noise.

  I blink, feel my mom’s cool hand on my cheek again. I look at her, see her eyes again, fading now.

  “Keep your promise,” she says to me and then she’s gone.

  28

  Scarlett

  The chopper lifts off. A soldier straps me in as we veer sharply west and I catch my breath, grasping hold of the edges of the seat.

  I hate this chopper.

  David is sitting across from me, facing me. In his eyes I see his hate.

  Cristiano is dead.

  I felt it, didn’t I?

  “How?” I ask him, my voice so small in the scream of the chopper’s blades.

  “Your lover killed him,” David says.

  “My…Marcus? He’s not…Marcus killed him?”

  “Don’t pretend to care.”

  I’m not pretending but I don’t bother to explain that. Cristiano is dead. He used up all nine of his lives.

  The chopper dips low unexpectedly and I gasp, my stomach lurching before that brick settles in again.

  Dead.

  Gone.

  I’ll never see him again and all I can think is how much I’ll miss him.

  “I didn’t betray him,” I tell his uncle, not that it matters anymore. Not that he’ll believe me.

  He doesn’t say anything, not for a long time and I’m not sure what I expect him to say. What I want him to say. But I have a feeling I won’t feel the loss of Cristiano for too long. I have a feeling I won’t have time to mourn him.

  At least I got Noah out. If I’m not at the square in two days’ time, he’ll disappear. He’ll know what happened to Cristiano. He’ll figure out what happened to me and he’ll know he has to disappear.

  He’ll be safe at least.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask David.

  “Back to your people.”

  “I have no people.”

  “No, I guess you don’t. But that only makes you more valuable to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Felix Pérez has a coup on his hands.”

  “Felix? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “And he is the only one who can give me what I need now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sir,” one of the soldiers wearing a headset interrupts us. “The jet is ready. Chopper lands in less than five minutes. We’re cleared to take off as soon as everyone’s on board. We’ll have a ten-minute window, so we’ll need to hurry.”

  David nods, stretches his neck to look out at whatever we’re flying toward. I’m facing the wrong way so I can’t see.

  “Do they have what we need on board?”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier says, eyes bouncing off me.

  “You get the girl on the plane,” he says, gaze still out the window. “If she fights you knock her out by any means necessary.”

  “What plane? Where the hell are you taking me?” I ask when David turns his attention back to me.

  He doesn’t answer me though and I shift my gaze to the window as we begin a hurried descent toward a long runway at what must be a small, private airport. If I crane my neck, I can see the jet that’s parked on the runway, one man standing outside looking up at the chopper, two more soldiers hovering around the stairs that lead into the plane. I see that one is smoking as we near the ground.

  I scan the expanse of the fenced-in airport with all its open space. Beyond that is a sparsely populated neighborhood.

  The chopper touches down, the landing bumpy. David opens the door and slides out, casually adjusting his jacket sleeve as he walks toward the waiting jet.

  “Let’s go,” his soldier says to me.

  I turn to him, note the pistol in its shoulder holster. He’s in gear like Cristiano and his men when he first came to that tower and stole me. He was ready for war then. This man, he’s ready for war now. And the most dangerous one is standing outside the waiting jet.

  I unbuckle the belt, work my arms out of it. The soldier steps out of the chopper. The other one is waiting for me to exit first. As I duck down, the one outside grabs hold of my arm, his grip hard. A warning.

  “I’m Cristiano’s wife,” I remind him. “He wouldn’t want you handling me like this.”

  He looks at me for a long moment. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him at the house. Not that I remember all the soldiers, but this one scares me. Inside his eyes, I see a great expanse of emptiness.

  “Let’s go,” he says, and I walk with him toward the waiting plane. The chopper blades blow my hair around my face as we pass David and the other men who simply watch as I’m loaded onto the plane.

  That’s when I resist. I can’t not. I feel like if I get on that plane, there won’t be any going back. My fate will be sealed.

  But it’s no use resisting. There are at least six of them and one of me. Not to mention that most of them are armed. Once we’re on the plane and he deposits me into a seat, I stop fighting. He straps my belt and takes the seat beside me as David and the other soldiers climb on board. Then the cabin door is closed.

  My heart races when David takes the seat across from mine. Someone hands him a rectangular box. He thanks them, then shifts his gaze out the window.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” I say as the jet begins to speed down the runaway. I feel the moment we lift off, hear the sound of the wheels folding into the belly of the plane. “Please,” I add, eyeing that box on his lap.

  He turns back to me after checking the time on his watch.

  “I’m selling you to Felix,” he says flatly.

  “What? You told Dante—”

  “You’d rather I put a bullet in your head now?”

  I quiet.

  “Didn’t think so. Besides, that’d be a waste. Those loyal to your father have rebelled against him taking over the cartel, while you and your brother are still alive. Still out there.”

  I swallow at the mention of Noah.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t care if your brother somehow managed to slip away. Although I am curious how.”

  “What do you mean about those who are rebelling?”

  “Felix is a smart guy I have to admit. He’ll make an example out of you. Show those still stubbornly loyal to your father what happens when you cross him.”

  I stare at him.

  “Don’t you want to know how?”

  “I don’t care what he does to me.”

  “You might care after you figure it out.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “You know what?” he asks, leaning toward me a little. “I just want to see your face when I tell you. And since I don’t plan on sticking around for the main event, well, I don’t really care about the surprise factor.”

  “I’m Cristiano’s wife. You can’t treat me like this.”

  “My nephew’s dead. Or if he’s not yet, he will be soon.”

  “What?”

  He shrugs his shoulder dismissively. “There’s an auction tomorrow night. The big one buyers have come from all over the world for. He already sold his one special item up for bid but now there is a second.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The virgin daughter of one of the once most powerful men of the Italian mafia families. Almost grown up. Fifteen is a good age. Some men like them young. I hear your uncle did.”

  I suddenly know exactly who he’s talking about and I feel sick.

  “I personally don’t understand the draw,
but I have to admit it brings in good money.”

  “Cristiano’s sister is dead.”

  “Yes, she is, because you can’t trust a fucking cartel idiot soldier to do the job right.”

  “Mara?”

  “She goes by Lizzie now. It’s easier for everyone. No harm, no foul.”

  “She’s alive. And you’ve known it all this time?”

  He smiles, shakes his head. “That’s not the part you should worry about, Scarlett. Didn’t you hear what I said?” he pauses for effect. “There’s now a second special item to bid on. Can you guess what—or I should say who—that is?”

  I try not to react. Not to show any emotion at all even though my heart is beating so fast I swear it’s trying to bulldoze its way out of my chest.

  “Just think of those cousins and nieces and nephews hearing about how Felix Pérez stripped the cartel princess naked and put her on an auction block to be sold like a piece of meat to any number of Cristiano Grigori’s enemies. And let me tell you, there are plenty. My nephew wasn’t exactly good at making friends.”

  “Do you even care about him at all? Do you care that he’s dead?”

  “Of course, I do. He’s my brother’s son. I’m not a beast, Scarlett. But again, you digress.”

  He opens the box on his lap then and I see a syringe lying inside. I drag my gaze from it back up to his.

  “I’ll just leave you with one thought before I give you the gift of sleep.”

  He lifts the syringe out of the box, takes the cap off and drops it onto the floor. He gestures to the soldier beside me to stretch my arm out, shoving my sleeve up and gripping it with two hands so hard, it burns.

  “Don’t,” I try but it doesn’t matter, does it? Cristiano is dead and if he’s not, he will be soon. It’s what he said and why would he lie? And with what he and Felix have in store for me, isn’t it better if I’m knocked out?

  “Just imagine,” he starts, leaning in close. Pushing the air out of the barrel, a few drops of liquid fall on my bare arm before I feel the point puncture skin. “How many men will be bidding to have you. The things they’ll do to you. Hell, if he’s really smart, if he really wants to make that example hit home, maybe he’ll just have them line up and take turns. Just think about that.”