My head lolls back. It’s hard to keep my eyes open or focused as he pulls the needle out and puts it back in its box.
“Noah,” I say, unable to lift my arms or hands or legs when the soldier releases me.
“Noah will have it easy in comparison. He’ll have a price on his head for the rest of his life which I’m going to guess will be a short one.”
“Go to hell,” I manage just before I can’t open my eyes anymore.
“I expect you’ll be there sooner than me. Good night, Scarlett De La Cruz. Sleep tight.”
29
Cristiano
Loud voices cut through the nothingness of a heavy sleep. A familiar sleep. One I don’t want.
“Let me through.” I recognize this one. The others I don’t know. All men and one woman. She’s the reasonable one.
“For fuck’s sake if you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to kill every one of you mother fuckers.”
Dante. I try to make my face work but something’s wrong. I want to tell them to let him in. But let him in where? And why can’t I fucking move? Why can’t I wake up?
“He’s being moved from your facility,” another familiar voice says. Charlie. Yes, Charlie. He’s also reasonable. Calm.
“Get security up here,” the woman’s voice says.
There’s a crash and then the voices are louder.
“Shit.” Dante again.
I should open my eyes. I’m trying to.
“Cris.” It’s Dante and he’s closer now. “Fuck. Cris. Fuck. Open your eyes, man.”
Someone pulls up an eyelid and shines a bright light into my eye. I groan against the intrusion. At least I can groan. Make some sound of resistance.
“He’s heavily sedated. Help me. Take that.”
I feel my arm lifted then set back down before someone prods my side. Now that fucking hurts.
“There’s no reason for him to be sedated. Surgery was over a full twenty-four hours ago.” The last part fades out as I start to drift off again. Maybe I can go back to that beach. See Elizabeth and mom one more time. What had they said last time?
“Wake up, Brother,” Dante says and in usual form, he slaps my face a couple of times. “You need to open your eyes. I need you to open your fucking eyes.”
“Let’s get him on that stretcher. Dante, you take that side.” It’s Dr. Marino.
The instant I’m lifted pain cuts through my side. That groan must be me because the doctor’s yelling at them to be careful.
“Can’t you give him something to wake him up?” Dante snaps, his tone urgent. He’s closer to my ear now and I’m being rolled. I hear Charlie again and the woman. They’re arguing. Charlie will win.
“It won’t be safe,” Dr. Marino says.
I hear a ding. An elevator. The wheels bump as they cross the threshold and I feel my side again. My head lolls and I open my eyes, or I think I do, and I see Marcus Rinaldi. I see his dead eyes. See the knife in his throat.
I put it there. I killed him.
The doors swoosh open and we’re rolling again. A few minutes later, we’re outside. I feel it in the change of temperature, in the fresh, not chemically scented air.
“Is he answering?” Dante asks someone.
“Nothing yet. Calls are going right to voice mail. He must have his phone off.”
“Charlie,” Dante says as I’m loaded into something. Whoever is lifting the stretcher is not careful but I’m drifting again. “Do you have my uncle’s private number? My phone is dead, and I don’t remember it.”
A sense of dread washes over me. Why is he trying to call him? He shouldn’t. I need to warn him but I’m not sure why.
“We’ll wait to call him when Cristiano is awake and alert,” Charlie says.
“Fuck that. Fuck. He needs to know he’s alive. Fuck!”
“It can wait. He can wait.”
“No, he can’t.”
“What’s the urgency, Dante?”’
That dread is back.
“David sends his regards.”
I swallow. Even that fucking hurts. “No.” It comes out a groan as I fight whatever has me in this sleep state.
“Cris?” Dante asks. We’re in a moving vehicle. I feel that much. “Come on, man. I thought you were fucking dead. Please wake the fuck up!”
“Dante. Take it easy,” the doctor says. “He’ll wake up soon. I gave him something to hurry it along as much as I safely can.”
“How long?” Dante asks.
“Couple of hours.”
“We may not have a couple of hours.”
“We’ll get him to the island. To his own bed. Scarlett being there will help,” Charlie says.
Scarlett.
“If you die, she dies.”
I feel my hands fist at least a little. It feels like that time I heard Lenore and David talking. I was waking up. It was a memory. I know now. I’m sure.
Betrayed. He betrayed me twice. But why did he let me live? Why not kill me, too? Why not kill Dante and me both?
“She’s not there,” my brother says, his tone more quiet.
“What do you mean she’s not there?” Charlie asks.
The vehicle takes a turn. I swear I feel every fucking thing in my side where Rinaldi managed to stab me before I killed him.
“Dante?” It’s Charlie again.
“David took her. We thought he was dead. Someone told him Rinaldi had killed Cristiano and he took her.”
David has Scarlett?
“Took her where?” Charlie asks.
“Fuck.” Silence. Weighted silence I can feel. “I don’t know.”
Something begins to beep frantically, and I feel hands on me, the doctor telling Dante and Charlie to back off.
“He said he knew exactly what to do with her,” Dante says so quietly that I almost don’t hear.
“You let him take your brother’s wife?”
“I thought…he told me Cris was dead! I thought she’d betrayed him. Tipped off Rinaldi. I thought…Fuck!”
30
Scarlett
I blink my eyes open, looking up at the ceiling of a dimly lit, small room. It takes me a moment to remember what happened. To remember that Cristiano is dead. And that his brother handed me off to David who will now sell me back to the cartel.
This is my punishment because they think I betrayed Cristiano.
Not that either of them would have let me live, even if I could have convinced them that I hadn’t. They hate me because I am a De La Cruz.
At least Noah is safe. But is he? How long has it been? Is he still in Naples waiting for me to come?
I turn my head to look around the room. I’m alone but there’s a camera set up directly across from the bed. The red light is blinking. I’m either being recorded or someone’s watching me now.
There’s a chair in the far corner and two doors, both closed. The wooden doors are old, splintering. This whole place feels forgotten. A red neon light blinks outside from a street sign. The ratty yellowed lace curtain, only half-hanging off the rod, barely filters the red light as raindrops tap softly on the glass.
I try to pull my arm in, but I can’t. I look up to find my right wrist is handcuffed to the bed.
At least I’m not naked. That’s something, right?
“Hell, if he’s really smart, if he really wants to make that example hit home, maybe he’ll just have the men line up and take turns. Just think about that.”
My eyes fall on that camera again.
Maybe he already sold me. Maybe Felix has me here awaiting my fate, the camera ready to record every minute of my degradation. Ready to broadcast for anyone who misses the live show.
I shudder, sit up, drawing my knees in toward my body. It’s cold in the room. My arm hurts where he gave me the shot and a tiny bruise has formed. But that’s the least of my problems.
This can’t be about me anymore. I’m dead, I know that. The only thing standing between me and death was Cristiano and he’s gone. I can�
��t think about that now. I can’t think about the loss of him.
At least I got Noah out, I tell myself again. Turning my face away from the camera so they don’t see the few tears slip out before I can stop them.
What had David said? There’s an auction.
Is it the same auction that boat of women was heading to? Women and girls. And Lenore’s granddaughter, Mara is there. If David is telling the truth, that is. Why wouldn’t he, though? Why would he lie about that? There’s no reason to lie to me about it.
But he knew about Mara all along and never told Cristiano or Dante or even Lenore? He knew she was alive?
No. It’s worse than that. He’d planned it. They’d just screwed up and taken the wrong little girl.
He’d planned for Elizabeth to be kidnapped. Cristiano’s little sister. His niece. Which means he was involved in their massacre.
Why?
I drop my head, shake it. The why doesn’t matter, not anymore. Did Cristiano find out at least? Before he died? No. He couldn’t have.
I steel myself and raise my head. No time to mourn. I look straight at the camera. Straight at the cowards on the other side of it.
I can die quietly. Or I can try to do something to help Mara. To help those women. To avenge Cristiano at least a little.
So, I settle into my seat. I look straight into that lens and I plot, raising my middle finger at whoever is watching.
Because I’ll fight.
Because I’ve never been the quiet type.
31
Cristiano
I don’t know how long I fight for. All I know is every time I regain a modicum of consciousness, I’m right back where I was when I heard Dante. Charlie. Right back to fighting this fog.
David has Scarlett.
Those are the three words that repeat in my head every time I feel the weight of life. Of waking. That and dread. Dread for her.
Something cold and wet touches the back of my hand. I turn my head toward whatever it is even though I can’t yet open my eyes. That cold and wet turns warm and soft and I realize it’s Cerberus. He’s nuzzling his head into my hand.
I feel myself smile just a little. This one comfort. I move my fingers as much as I can, and he must feel it because I hear him whine then let out a small bark.
“Cristiano?”
Keeping my hand cupped around Cerberus’s head, I draw my other arm up. It feels like I’m dragging it through mud.
“Fuck,” Dante mutters, but I hear his relief.
I touch my face, my head. And somehow, I force my eyelids to open. I see my brother peering down at me, his hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it for hours. Shadows darken the skin beneath his eyes. He hasn’t slept.
“How much time?” I ask as I try to push myself up to a seat. It’s fucking impossible. My side hurts like a mother fucker. I push through it and Dante adjusts the pillow then hands me a glass of water.
“Three nights since you killed Rinaldi.”
“He’s dead.” It’s a fact. I don’t need confirmation. I will never forget his eyes. I won’t forget the feel of the knife cutting into his throat.
“Yeah. He’s dead,” Dante confirms anyway.
I take a sip of the water then push it away. I look at Cerberus who is half sitting by the bed, tail wagging behind him as he nuzzles his nose into the palm of my hand. I pet him but turn to my brother.
“Scarlett,” I say.
He runs his hands through his hair again. Turns away momentarily. “He stabbed you where you’d been shot. It’s why it’s so bad.”
“Scarlett.” I think about how she calls me a Neanderthal. I sound like one.
Dante turns back to me, expression dark. “Gone.”
“Of her own free will?” I’m not sure why I ask. I know the answer.
He shakes his head. “David took her.”
“And you let him?”
He has the decency to look down. “Charlie told me what he thinks about David. But it can’t be true, Cris. He wouldn’t do anything against us.”
I push the blanket off. The pain when I swing my legs off the bed causes the room to go black for a minute.
“You’re in no shape—”
“It was him,” I cut Dante off, shove his hand away and grip the edge of the nightstand. “It was him who ordered it.”
“Ordered what?”
I stand. Stop again. Wait for the room to stop spinning. I press my hand to my side. It feels hot but a glance down confirms it’s not bleeding.
“Ordered what?” Dante asks again this time through gritted teeth. Because he’s got to have put some things together too if Charlie talked to him.
I look at my brother. I swear there’s more gray around his temples. Fuck. He’s only twenty-six.
“He was behind it. He ordered it. He murdered our family.”
Dante’s eyes betray his emotion, betray what he knows deep down, but he closes them, shakes his head. “No, Brother. Rinaldi lied to you.”’
“He knew that bastard had—” I stop. Dante doesn’t know about the rape. I hadn’t realized my uncle knew and he’d been so smooth in covering up how when I’d questioned him.
“No, Cristiano.”
I walk to my closet, pull on the first pair of jeans I see along with a T-shirt. It hurts like fucking hell when I raise my arm to do it. I pull on socks and a pair of boots.
“Where did he take Scarlett?” I ask him when I’m back in the bedroom and open the drawer where I keep one of the Glocks. I slip the holstered weapon onto my shoulder before pulling on a jacket.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” my brother asks.
“I’m going to get my wife.” I change direction, head toward him. “Where did he take her?”
He doesn’t back away. “You can’t go anywhere. You need to heal.”
I get in his face. “You let him take my wife.”
“She betrayed you!”
“She did not! And I told you that you don’t lay a fucking finger on her, not if I’m alive and not if I’m dead. You knew that. You promised me you’d protect her. You fucking promised me.”
He doesn’t back down, not at first. But then steps back, drops to a seat on the chair and wraps one hand around the back of his neck before shifting his gaze out the window.
There’s a knock on the door then and Antonio opens it, the expression on his face urgent.
He stops just inside the door when he sees us.
“Cristiano,” he starts, looking me over. “Are you—”
“I’m fine.”
“I have a location in Rotterdam.”
“Fuck,” Dante says.
I only glance at him. I’m so pissed at him I could kill him.
“Is my wife there?”
“There’s some buzz that would suggest she is or will be soon.”
“And my uncle. Where exactly is he?”
“The plane he took landed at a private airfield outside of Rotterdam three nights ago,” Dante answers.
We both turn to him. “I had it tracked.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do that if you don’t believe he’d betray us?”
“I don’t fucking know.” Dante shakes his head, runs his hand through his messy hair yet again.
“You do fucking know.”
“He’s always done right by me. By us.”
“No, Brother. He hasn’t. And he owes me some answers.” I turn to Antonio. “Have you arranged transportation?”
He nods once.
“And Noah? Any sign?”
“Tunnel was accessed recently,” Antonio says. I told him where to look. “The vehicle you mentioned on the other side gone.”
“Good.”
“You want me to put men out looking for him?”
“No. Better if the kid disappears.”
“All right.”
“Let’s go.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dante says.
I stop, look back at him.
“Why?”
“Because if you’re right then Uncle David owes me answers too.”
“Fine. But if you get in my way, I’ll fucking hurt you, brother or not.”
“Understood.”
Antonio walks out first and just before I step away, Dante puts a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I just thought…I thought I’d lost you again.”
I pull my arm away. “You can apologize to my wife when we get her back and we’d better get her back. Alive.”
32
Scarlett
A woman brings me food and water. Each time she keeps her eyes cast down and is let inside by a different man. He stands at the door with his hand on the key in the lock as she clears out one dish to swap it out for another.
I eat a little bit of the stale bread but leave the cold meat. The scent of which makes my stomach turn. It looks to be leftovers someone else didn’t finish. I drink all the water, which I’m grateful is bottled.
I realize the bucket beside the bed is my toilet. My cuffed arm just allows me access to it and when I have to pee, I try not to think of the camera.
I’ve spent two nights here, I guess, assuming that I was knocked out only for a few hours. When I woke up it was already dark. I can hear noise on the street if I concentrate. I think we’re in a city, but this house or at least my room is up high enough and must be tucked out of the way enough, that I have to strain my ears to hear it.
It’s the morning of the third day that I hear different voices.
David’s is one. He’s speaking English. The other one I recognize too. I heard it the morning Jacob kidnapped me and took me to that pier.
“Cover her for fuck’s sake.”
I shudder at the memory of Jacob’s blood splattering across my face and remember the scent of the jacket that someone had draped over my shoulders. The door opens just as I place the voice.
Felix Pérez stands in the doorway of the decrepit room. He finishes what he was saying, a smile easy on his face when he takes in first the surroundings and then me.
I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two Page 14