And as someone he'd want to keep an eye on.
“I'm not just going to let you blunder around on your own,” Marc told her.
“Really? You didn't have a problem with letting me do that six months ago,” she snapped, counting doors as they passed them.
“I thought you'd go home,” he said. She stopped moving and he bumped into her.
“Home!? Did you really think that after all that, after everything we'd gone through, I would just fucking waltz home? That I could go home? You're fucked in the head, De Sant.”
Her voice was barely more than a growl, and she could feel her anger bubbling just under her surface. Clouding her judgement. Threatening to blind her. Kingsley's smooth voice rolled through her head, blanketing her emotions.
Kingsley's law: Few things can ruin your plans quite like anger. Love, fear, sadness, all can motivate, but anger? Anger will fuck things right up.
“I'm sorry if that's how you felt, but I did what I had to -”
“Shut up, De Sant. Just shut the fuck up, I don't have time to play couples therapy with you. This is Stankovski's room. If you won't leave, then at least get out of my way,” she said, stopping in front of a large oak door. He stepped up to her chest.
“Did telling me what to do ever work for you in the past?” he asked. She glared.
“Jesus, you're annoying.”
“Yet still not half as annoying as you.”
“God. Let's just get this over with.”
Marc nodded and pushed on the door.
There was no time. He slid into the room, and not wanting to be caught begging in the hall, Lily slipped in directly behind him, actually pressed up against his side. So she didn't know that someone had slipped a burlap bag over his head till a matching one was being put over her own head.
Just like old fucking times.
Marc was yelling her name, but she stayed silent, concentrating. Whoever had the bag, they were struggling to pull it into place at the back of her neck. She grabbed her captor by the wrists, then she snapped forward, bending at a right angle. The man holding the bag was flipped over her, landing hard on his back and taking the bag with him.
Lily dropped into a crouch and immediately kicked off the wall behind her, diving between Marc's legs and scrambling under the bed. Someone grabbed her ankle, but she let out a shout and kicked whoever it was in the face before she crawled out the other side, jumping to her feet. She looked around quickly – Marc was struggling with the man who was holding his arms, shouting obscenities, but with the bag already over his head, it was clear he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It would be up to her to get them out of their situation.
There was a standing floor lamp next to the bed and she grabbed it, ripping the chord out of the wall before swinging the lamp like a bat. It connected with one man's head, shattering the stained glass shade and knocking him to the ground. She wasn't a bow staff expert, not by any means, but Kingsley was deadly with one, and had taught her some basics. She spun the rod above her head before slamming it against the back of another man.
“Enough!”
Everything stopped. The bedroom door was open, and a form was outlined in the bright light from the hallway. Then the figure moved into the room, the door was shut, and an overhead light was turned on. Lily blinked, her eyes taking a moment to adjust before Damiano Ledo came into focus.
“We tried, boss,” one of the men breathed. As if to emphasize just how difficult the task had been, Marc jerked his head back. The burlap bag and his skull connected with his captor's nose, and the man shouted in pain before punching Marc in the small of his back.
“Such a pity. That was a Tiffany lamp you broke. Very expensive,” Damiano sighed, walking farther into the room. Lily tried to get her breathing under control, tracking his movement with her eyes, holding the rod of the lamp above her head.
“I'm sure you can steal another one,” she replied.
“And funny, too! Quite a catch! But the time for games is over,” he informed her. She nodded.
“Alright. When did you know?”
“Oh, from the moment you entered the party, I recognized you. And then this clumsy gentleman, my bugs picked up his bumblings early on,” he explained, gesturing to Marc.
“So while dancing, you knew who I was,” she clarified.
“From the beginning.”
“Then why -”
“Because it's so fun. Watching you play, watching you act like you knew what you were doing. That's all done now, though. Time to drop the lamp. You're out numbered, out gunned, and out witted,” Damiano told her. Lily narrowed her eyes, then spun the lamp rod in her hand, twirling it till it was pointed at Damiano's chest. She gripped it in her fist and pivoted so she was facing him.
“Try something. This will rip through your chest before any of them can fire a shot,” Lily threatened.
Quicker than she could have imagined him capable of, Damiano whipped a gun out from under his jacket. The barrel was immediately pressed against Marc's forehead. Time stopped for a moment.
“Yes, but can you throw it before I fire a shot?” he asked. Lily licked her lips and glanced around the room.
“Aw, c'mon, we were getting to be such good friends. Why don't you kick out your goons, I'll ask my friend to wait outside, and you and I can work something out,” she cooed at him in a sexy voice. He snorted and Marc growled.
“Valiant effort. Do as I say,” Damiano's voice got hard. Marc started shifting around again, trying to break free.
“Fuck that. Do whatever you have to do to get out!” he yelled, his voice muffled by the bag.
“Uh, sweetheart, he's got a gun. Against your head,” Lily informed him.
“I don't give two shits. Throw whatever it is you have and get the fuck out of here!”
“Chit chat over! Drop the lamp, Liliana!” Damiano commanded. Marc started jerking harder against his restraints.
“Don't you fucking do it, Lily. Don't you fucking do it! You know better! Get the fuck out of here!”
Of course Lily knew if she backed down, they were both as good as dead. But if she didn't back down, Marc would actually be dead. And as much as she liked to pretend that she hated him, the idea of him being hurt, of him dying, was too much. Just the idea made her feel like someone was stepping on a large piece of her heart. It couldn't be allowed to happen.
That's what was so awful about those six months – not knowing if he was okay.
Lily shook her head, focusing on the situation at hand. She kept moving her eyes from man to man in the room, from situation to situation. What to do. What to do.
Damiano cocked the gun and time froze again. She remembered being in Africa. Remembered Ivanov chaining her to the ceiling. Remembered Marc telling her to trust him. To trust them. They weren't together in any sense of the word and she didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him, but they had gotten out of some pretty fucked up situations together.
We can get out of this one.
The lamp rod had barely slipped free of her fingers before one of the guards was on her. She let out a grunt as she was tackled onto the bed, a forearm immediately pressing against her throat. She gritted her teeth and watched as Damiano lowered his gun and walked towards her.
“Very smart choice,” he mumbled, his voice low as he looked down at her.
Lily was laying flat on her back with a very heavy man on top of her. She struggled under his weight, fighting to breathe, and could do nothing as Damiano reached out a hand and trailed his fingers through the black hair on her head. His touch was gentle at first, but then his fingernails scratched her forehead. Dug into the dark strands. He pulled, and the thick cap of black hair came away easily. She hadn't bothered to pin it into place.
“Don't you fucking touch her! I'll fucking rip your stomach out through your throat! Don't you goddamn touch her!” Marc was shouting. Damiano ignored him and knelt on the mattress, right behind Lily's head. She glared up at him as he picked up
a handful of hair. Her real hair; her bun had unfurled when he'd pulled her wig off. She felt his fingers working through the coppery ponytail.
“It's darker than I thought it would be,” he commented, then he stared straight at her for a second. One long second.
Then he snapped his fingers and a bag was shoved over her head, too.
DAY TWO HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN
“My nose itches,” Lily mumbled.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up!”
There was a shuffling noise to her right and Lily jerked in her chair, turning her head towards it. The burlap bag muffled everything. She knew Marc was sitting across from her, but she couldn't quite tell how close he actually was to her. It was like trying to listen to someone through a pillow.
They had been dragged out of the house. Well, Marc had been dragged. After she'd kicked a couple people, Lily was carried. They were taken downstairs, then outside. A distance was crossed. She had figured they were going to squirrel them away in a guest house, but they went much too far. She could smell the jungle around them, feel leaves and branches brushing against her arms and legs.
After about ten minutes of trekking, they were brought into some sort of building. There were no smells she could pick up on, but sounds seemed to echo a little in whatever room they were in, and it was clammy. A little chilly, even. Damiano apologized and explained that he had a few more guests he needed to say goodbye to, Roksana in particular. He would deal with them when he could get away.
It felt like hours had passed since then.
“Hey!” Marc suddenly shouted. “We're tied up. We haven't tried to escape. Take the fucking bags off, it's impossible to breathe.”
There was another shuffling sound, and Lily whipped her head to the left. There was more noise, then Marc groaned. A moment later and her bag was removed. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against a blinding light, then slowly blinked her way back to normal.
“Thank you,” she breathed, gasping in the fresh air.
They were in a room with white walls and concrete floors. A thick metal door sat in the wall to her left, and she was positive it was the one that led outside, the door they had been carried through. She could remember it squeaking in its hinges. A glance behind her showed a set of swinging double doors. Two guards stood next to them. Another guard stood directly behind her.
Marc was tied to a chair across from her, and behind him she could see that shelves had been built in beneath big windows. Other than that, the room was completely empty. They were at ground level, she could see the fauna and flora outside. Could see that the sun was rising. That meant it was at least six in the morning.
“You're very welcome!”
Damiano came bursting through the doors behind them. He moved to stand between them, undoing his cuff links and rolling up his sleeves. His jacket and tie were gone, but he was still wearing the same suit from the party. Lily looked over the guards again. They were different from the ones in his house. These guys all wore black, with large assault rifles in their hands and hand guns at their hips, alongside all sorts of other goodies in their utility belts. She wondered if she could get her hands free and grab a taser before anyone could stop her.
“Whatever you're thinking, don't,” Marc cautioned her in a low voice. She finally looked back at him.
“Yes, I agree with Mr. De Sant. I have such fun plans for us, you don't want to ruin it,” Damiano informed her as he moved to stand behind her chair. The ropes around her wrists pulled tight, then were cut away. The rope around her waist was also disposed of before he grabbed her arm and yanked her into a standing position.
“Hey! Hey! You deal with me! Act like a man!” Marc yelled, struggling against his own bindings. An arm snaked around her waist and Lily was jerked back into a solid chest.
“We'll have plenty of time to play together, De Sant. Roksana is eager to get her claws back into you. For now, though, I am most definitely craving strawberry shortcake,” Damiano's voice got breathy towards the end and Lily could feel his nose against her hair, could hear him inhaling sharply. She stared straight at Marc, never looked away from his angry glare.
Damiano's distracted. He's separating us. Bad idea.
“I love dessert,” she sighed. Marc narrowed his eyes.
“Me, too.”
Damiano started walking backwards, hauling her with him. When his tongue traveled the length of her neck, she groaned, briefly closing her eyes before once again staring at Marc. His eyes still hadn't left her.
“Did I ever tell you, Marc?” she asked, laughing when Damiano's hand moved to cup her breast.
“Tell me what, sweetheart?”
“You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen.”
The meaning behind what she'd said wasn't lost on him. He'd said the same line to her, before – twice. Both times, he'd done it to distract her. To ground her. And directly after each time, he'd saved her.
“Just hold tight in there, princess. I'll be in soon.”
“Mmmm, can't wait.”
Damiano's hand moved from her breast to her hair and he jerked back on her head.
“I don't appreciate it when women flirt with other men while in my presence,” he hissed in her ear while he dragged her through the double doors. She laughed loudly again, then blew a kiss at Marc before he disappeared from her sight.
She was pulled backwards down the hall. Off of one wall was a staircase, leading to who knew where. They came to a stop and she listened as what sounded like a heavy door was opened behind her.
“Hey,” she suddenly started laughing as she was backed into the room. “I told you we'd spend the night together.”
“You did. Sadly, I don't think you'll enjoy it as much as I will,” Damiano responded before shoving her down into another chair.
While one of the guards tied her ankles to the chair legs, Lily looked around. There was equipment in the room, boxes on shelves filled with beakers and containers. Drugs. The building was going to be a drug production outfit. Most likely meth, if she had to guess. There was one window high up in the wall, but it was much too small for her to fit through, even if she could manage to get loose. Near the door, there was an air vent in the wall. It was large, she knew she could easily crawl through it, provided she could get the cover off.
“Oh, baby, if you wanted to tie me up, we could've done it back in the bedroom,” Lily breathed, then winced as ropes were cinched tight around her wrists, biting into her skin. Her arms were now tied down to the arm rests.
“Maybe I like an audience,” Damiano replied, moving to stand in front of her. She glanced around them. Almost every guard had followed them into the room.
“Who doesn't? But they could've been an audience while surrounding a big comfy bed,” she laughed at him, wiggling her arms and legs, testing how well she was being held down.
“I wouldn't worry about being 'comfy',” he said, lowering himself into a squat in front of her before resting his hands on top of hers, his fingers stroking her skin.
“Why not? You've been very accommodating so far,” she replied. He smirked at her, then gripped her left pinky and snapped it backwards. A clean break. She screamed sharply and tried not look at the finger that was now sticking up at a right angle to her hand. Damiano leaned in close to her face.
“Because things are about to become very uncomfortable, Liliana. I hope you're ready.”
Lily took several deep breaths, trying not to gag.
I hope I am, too.
*
Marc had managed to slip his hand free of his wrist binding and was working on the knot in the rope that was around his waist when he heard the scream. He jerked his head up. It had been short. Quick. Just an outburst. Something painful had happened. He glanced at the lone guard that had been left with him.
“Hey!” he called out. His guard was looking through a window in the double doors that Lily had disappeared behind.
“Qué?” the guard turned around.
>
“I got a question,” Marc sighed, leaning to the side and stretching, trying to camouflage the fact that the rope around his waist was now loose.
“No English,” the guard managed to say. Marc nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, my Spanish sucks. But humor me. How does someone become a henchman? Is the money good? Why not freelance? I make a shit ton of money,” Marc rambled. The guard sighed and moved to stand in front of him.
“NO. ENGLISH!” he snapped.
“Oh yeah? Well NO. ROPE,” Marc snapped back.
The guard started muttering to himself, and when he began shaking his head in annoyance, Marc sprung into action. He leapt to his feet, barreling into the other man. Using all the strength in his legs, he launched them across the room, driving the guard into the wall. The guy gasped for air as it was driven from his lungs, but Marc didn't stop moving. His left arm was still tied to the back of the chair and he swung it forward, bringing the piece of furniture down on the guard's head.
After he'd beaten the man unconscious, Marc removed the rest of the rope from his wrists. Then he grabbed the guard's hand gun, checked that the magazine was full, and slid it into the waist of his pants. He grabbed the rifle next, slinging the strap over his neck and letting the firearm rest against his back. Then he jumped up and crept over to the double doors.
A peek through the window showed that two guards were stationed at the end of a long hallway, in front of another solid looking door. They were chatting and smiling, obviously oblivious of the fact that their friend was now knocked out and Marc was loose. It would have to be quick, and it would have to clean. Marc took a deep breath and pulled the hand gun out; made sure the safety was off.
He walked through the doors and before either guard could even lift their own weapons, Marc had planted two bullets in both of them. A head and neck shot, each. They went down and Marc sprinted the rest of the way down the hall, wanting to make it to the door before someone could come out of it.
When he got there, he saw that the door was made of reinforced steel. He wouldn't be surprised to find there was a bar going across the other side of it. There was a small window cut into it, though, and he looked through, preparing himself for anything.
Out of Plans (The Mercenaries #2) Page 6