Dirty

by Ella Miles

  "Damn it.” What's wrong with her? She doesn't give a shit about her date.

  I throw him hard against the concrete road.

  "You can blame Eden for this." I shoot him squarely in the leg to keep him from coming after me. He has a fighting chance of surviving, as long as I didn't hit any major artery running through his leg. I might need some help cleaning up this mess after all.

  I start running after her. She won't run far before I catch up with her. I'm far too impressive of a runner, and I'm far too motivated to not catch up with her. Her only hope is if there happens to be a police station or some place of sanctuary she can run to and hide inside.

  But she seems to be out of luck. I see her turn a corner and I run after her, a second behind. She is fast, but not quick enough. I make a mental note not to underestimate her speed in the future.

  She feels me catching up to her and turns to glance behind her, only to see me feet away. She darts down another road, leading her out toward a four-lane street filled with cars zipping by. She's trapped.

  I slow my jogging down a little. She has nowhere to go. She won't be able to cross the busy street without getting hit by traffic. And there is nowhere else for her to hide.

  She hesitates, staring out at the cars whizzing by her and then glances back at me.

  I smirk.

  She darts out into traffic, because, apparently, she'd rather die then get taken by me.

  Shit.

  I run after her, dashing out into the traffic. One car stops, honking their horn emphatically. She won't get so lucky a second time. I catch up with her, grab onto her and pull us out of the way of another speeding car.

  We both lay on the cold concrete, my arms still around her, panting hard as the rush of adrenaline continues to beat wildly throughout our bodies.

  "You're welcome."

  She tries to climb out of my arms, but I hold her tighter to my body, enjoying having her warm body pressed against mine.

  "What? You aren’t grateful?"

  "No."

  "But I saved your life."

  "You saved my life only so you could steal me, and use me against my best friend. That's not saving me."

  “It’s better than what you did to your date."

  She scowls at me. "If I had gone with you, you would've killed him anyway."

  "That's where you're wrong. If I give you my word I won't kill someone, then I won't."

  "Will you kill me?"

  "Not today."

  She doesn't hesitate. She knees me hard in the balls, giving her enough time to free herself while I wrap myself around my wounded manhood.

  She's good. But I'm better. I jump up, run the few feet after her, and grab her arm, twisting it hard behind her back.

  She cries out.

  "Now that I have your attention again, you will do what I say, or I’ll break your arm, which trust me, from how much agony my finger is in, you won't recover from rapidly.”

  "You're a monster."

  "I know."

  I walk her back toward where my car and her date still sit, him bleeding out over the concrete.

  I smirk at the weak man lying on the ground. "How does it feel that this incredible woman wasn't willing to save you?"

  Her date glares back at me, too broken to even fight back with words.

  "Should I kill him now since he means so little to you?"

  "No, you wouldn’t.”

  "I would and I will."

  She pants hard. She makes the mistake of looking at the what is left of her date.

  "Save him, and I'll cooperate."

  "No, you won't."

  But I walk her forward to him, still holding her arm behind her back.

  "Take off your shirt," I say to him.

  He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make me disappear.

  "Shirt off now," I bark again.

  "Listen to him," Eden pleads.

  He reluctantly removes his shirt, and I turn to Eden. “Now, take his shirt and tie it above the wound as tightly as you can.”

  I release Eden, keeping the gun firmly to her head as she does what I say. As soon as she's finished, I use my gun to slap him as hard as I can in the head, knocking him unconscious to the floor.

  "Why did you do that?” she screams, trying to wake him up with her pathetic shakes of his shoulder.

  "So he wouldn't follow us or remember any of this conversation to tell the police.”

  I grab her arm again, pulling her up from his limp body as I take out my phone and dial 911.

  "911, what’s your emergency?"

  "There's been an accident at the corner of 7th and South Olive.” I hang up.

  “I kept my word. Now get in the car and cooperate before I change my mind and kill you both."

  4

  Eden

  Matteo speeds off, away from the accident. Away from Saul.

  I glance into the side mirror at Saul’s car shrinking smaller and smaller as we speed away, until it all but gets lost among the other cars driving by. Regret instantly fills my soul. How could I have been so heartless to have let Matteo shoot Saul? I needed to save myself. I needed to save Nina. But will I ever be able to live with myself if Saul dies? If he dies, it’s my fault.

  Matteo turns the corner, and I'm no longer able to see the car or Saul.

  "He's going to die, isn’t he?" I stare out the window as buildings whiz by, narrowly registering what's happening to me. All I can think about is Saul.

  "He'll survive if he’s strong enough."

  I turn toward Matteo, who is whistling to himself as he loosely grasps the steering wheel. He’s acting as if nothing happened. Like he didn't just shoot a man in the leg and leave him bleeding out on the sidewalk, most likely to die. Like he's not currently kidnapping me. In fact, the entire car appears that way. His convertible hardly has a scratch on it. And when I take a deep breath, I smell the fresh new car scent, when it should reek of death and gloom.

  “How do you know that?”

  "Stop worrying about your date. You didn't seem concerned with him before, by the way you ran off instead of trying to save him.”

  "That's because I didn't think you would shoot him. And I wasn't thinking about him, I was thinking about Nina."

  He rapidly steps on the gas, accelerating as we go around another corner. I grab onto my seat to attempt from slamming my head into the side of the door.

  “Relax, he’ll survive. I missed all his major arteries, and if the emergency system is halfway decent around here, the paramedics are already at his side providing medical services. And as long as it doesn’t take them hours to drive him to a hospital, he won’t bleed out before they save him.”

  "How do you know you didn't hit any major arteries? You’re not a doctor.”

  He rolls his eyes. "Because he would've been dead by the time we got back to him and blood would have been pouring out of his leg.”

  I'm not sure if I believe him. It sure as hell looked like a lot of blood to me. I'm not sure he knows anything about gunshot wounds, although he's probably been shot dozens of times before, so maybe he does.

  But I also know that he is willing to tell me whatever he thinks I want to hear to get me to cooperate. He's right about one thing; I won't be cooperating. I plan on running again the next chance I get.

  I rest my hand on the door handle in case he decides to stop, and I can make my escape.

  "Don't even think about it."

  "I'm not thinking about anything.”

  He shakes his head and punches the gas. My body slams against the door as he swerves around cars and goes the wrong way down a one-way street. I close my eyes and pray we don't hit anything, and simultaneously hope we do crash and die so this will be all over.

  “I’ll never slow down enough for you to be able to jump out of the car and run, so remove your fucking hand from the door."

  My hand slips off the door, bracing myself again as he continues to speed and curse. I have to be more careful
at revealing any part of my plan to him in the future. He's done this before; he's going to be able to spot what I'm planning before I carry it out. I have to make sure I don't give him any signs or clues that I'm going to bolt again. Not even a tiny hint with my body.

  “Where are you driving me?" I stare at him, demanding an answer to my question but doubting he'll give me one. I'm sure the less I know, the better, in his mind.

  "Italy."

  My mouth drops a little when he answers me. He's taking me back to his home. I'm not sure why I didn't realize what his plan was before. I thought he would hold me captive in a hotel room, or an empty warehouse somewhere where he could torture me to find out where Nina and Arlo are. It would end with either me escaping or with a bullet through my head. Apparently, though, that's not the plan.

  Italy. He's taking me back to Italy. So many memories and emotions pour through my head as I think of going back to a country I both love and hate. I love because it was the last time I got to be free.

  I always thought I would do something creative, bringing more joy to the world with art and imagination. I enjoy painting and studying history. Architecture. Everything beautiful.

  A life of art and creativity was the path I was headed down in Italy, and it was the last time I did things solely for the love of it.

  But Italy is also where I lost my best friend. Her life changed forever, and so did mine. I realized I couldn't do things for the love of it anymore. I needed a more significant purpose. So I went to law school and then started prosecuting bad guys. I’ve been fulfilling my new reason to exist every day since.

  We arrive at the airport far too quickly. He takes me to a private airfield, not LAX. He drives through the security gate, past the armed guards who merely open the gate without asking for ID, because apparently they already know who Matteo is. He continues right up to a plane I assume he owns and parks a few feet away.

  I can't leave with him. If he takes me to Italy, I could end up trapped for weeks. Or dead. I need to escape. Now.

  He undoes his seatbelt and pushes the door ajar. I undo my seatbelt and throw my door open wide and sprint as fast as I can in the opposite direction of the plane.

  I don't have a plan. I move as quickly as my body will run, away from Matteo. I will hopefully find someone who can help me. A police officer, someone in the military, or any person with a car who will stop and drive me far, far away from here.

  I sense him behind me. I'm a runner and in shape. I’m fast; he's faster. I hoped catching him off guard for a second would allow me enough of a head start to escape. But I was wrong.

  His arms wrap around my body as he tackles me to the rough tarmac below. My face hits the ground with a thud and scrapes harshly across the tarmac while the rest of my body is stricken with the force of his body.

  "You don't know when to give up, do you? You’re mine. I'm kidnapping you, and there's nothing you can do to deter me. Fighting won’t help, it will only earn you more punishment later."

  I struggle against his arms, trying frantically to smash free, but his arms tighten more around my arms, making it impossible for me to make any of the moves I learned in self-defense classes over the years. I can't physically break free, but I can convince him of all the reasons he shouldn’t do this.

  "You can't take me. I never take a vacation or miss a day of work. Tomorrow morning when I don't show up for work, my boss will call and try to find me. My friend, Jules, will call the police when she can’t reach me. I already called Heath and told him you are here and to contact the police if anything happened to me. You won't be able to get away with it. People will start searching for me; the police will become involved, maybe even the FBI. They will hunt you down and put you in prison for the rest of your life."

  He laughs as he stands up, pulling me to my feet and twisting my arm behind my back. I try to move, but I can’t wiggle free without snapping my arm in two. Maybe the pain of breaking my arm would be worth it to be free.

  "I'm not too worried about the police or FBI. They can't touch me. And we all know how well Heath was able to save Nina. You do have a point though; I don't want people searching for you until I'm ready for them to find out you're missing."

  His eyes rake over my body. "Where is your phone?"

  "In my purse, back in Saul’s car."

  His hands travel over my body. Into the pockets of my pants as he searches for a phone that doesn’t exist. Then his eyes burn into my chest.

  “No,” I say.

  His hand reaches down the top of my shirt and over my breast, softly grazing my nipple as he forages for my phone. I squirm beneath his fingers, partially because I want his hand to stop invading my personal space and partly because I want to know how it would feel for him to touch me for real.

  “I guess you weren’t lying.” He removes his hands from my shirt, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out his phone, handing it to me.

  “Call work and tell them you're taking an extended leave of absence. That you found out your mother has cancer and you will be taking care of her. And you won't be back anytime soon."

  I smirk. "No."

  He reaches into the back of his pants and aims the gun at my head. "Leave the message, or I'll kill you."

  I stare at the gun. I should be terrified, but I'm not. "You won't shoot me. You hardly shot Saul, and you had no use for him. Me, you have use for. You won't kill me, or even harm me."

  He glares at me as his nostrils flare and his face turns red with rage. He places the gun back into the back of his pants. "Do it, and I won't look for Nina for one week. She gets seven more days of safety."

  Damn it. How was Matteo able to figure out my weakness so quickly? One week is a long time. In a week, I could find a way to escape. In a week, I could find a way to warn Nina and make sure she stays safe forever. In one week, I could kill Matteo.

  "How do I know that you'll keep your word?"

  "Because I'm an honorable person. I keep my promises."

  He holds out the phone. I take it, not needing to consider his offer any further. I dial the number for my work. I realize as soon as it goes to voicemail I could change course. I could tell them Matteo took me and to look for me in Italy. I could save myself. But Matteo would still take me, and Nina would still be at risk.

  “Hi, this is Eden. I'm calling to let you know I will be taking an extended leave of absence. I was in a car accident tonight. I'm fine, but it shook me up a little bit, and it made me realize I'm not living my life. I need a vacation. I’ve been working too hard for too long and not enjoying life. I don't know how long my absence will be, but I'll contact you when I'm ready to return. In the meantime, I'll be using all my vacation days I saved over the years. Jules can inform you of anything you need on my past clients. The other prosecutors should be able to handle new cases, since I closed all my current cases.” I press end.

  He holds out his hand, and I toss the phone back.

  "You didn't do what I said."

  "My mom died years ago; your plan wouldn’t have worked.”

  He twists my arm again and walks me toward the plane, then up the stairs onto the lavish private jet. I've never been on a plane this nice before. There are leather chairs and couches everywhere. A small kitchen and bar area toward the back and doors I assume lead to bathrooms or possibly even bedrooms all the way in the rear.

  I don't understand why it takes me this long for it to hit me again that I'm being stolen and I have to do everything I can to fight back. I turn, planning on elbowing Matteo in the nose as sharply as I can with my elbow, but he blocks me and grabs my other arm.

  "I'm not going to deal with you fighting me all the way to Italy. I have work to do."

  "Too bad, because that's exactly what I plan on doing."

  The jab pierces my skin without warning before the needle burns into my neck. I don’t have a chance to react.

  "No, I think you’re going to take a very long nap."

  My body grows weak and tire
d in his arms. The bastard drugged me. But it will do nothing to prevent me from fighting again the second I wake up. So unless he plans on keeping me sedated the entire time he has me, he better be prepared for a fight.

  My head pounds as my eyelids flutter wide. I’m groggy, my entire body aches, and my mind can’t make sense of why I feel like I’ve been run over by a train.

  I attempt to raise my head up, but the cloudiness is enough to knock me back down against the bed, my head hitting the soft pillow. My headache is so intense that even the pillow makes the thumping in my head worse.

  Instead of raising my head up, I look around the fancy room with just my eyes. I'm lying in an oversized king-size bed made of shiny black wood, covered in a light gray comforter. The bed matches the dark dressers scattered throughout the room. I glance over to the expansive windows that are covered with opaque shades, giving me no clue to what time of day it is or where I am.

  I glance over at the two picture frames sitting on the nightstand next to me. One of Matteo, Arlo, and what I assume is their sister, Gia. Nina has told me about her, but I’ve never met her. The other is a picture of Nina. I reach over and pick up the frame. My hand shakes as I struggle to hold onto the frame. She appears so happy in the photograph. I don’t know when it was taken or whose picture it is. Am I in Arlo's room or Matteo’s?

  It would make sense if this were Arlo's room before he left. He loves her. But if this were to be Matteo's room, I don’t understand why he would have a photograph of Nina. Is it love or hatred he feels toward her?

  I set the frame back on the nightstand with uneasy hands. Still lying on my back, I work my way to the edge of the bed, let my feet dangle off the end, and finally, I gradually push my body up into a sitting position.

  My eyes flicker shut as the pain and dizziness overwhelm me. I rest on the edge of the bed for much longer than I want. I want to run. I want to find out what's going on and why my memories are so foggy.

  I try to remember how I got here, but I can't. I try to recall why I feel so shitty, but I have no idea. Is Nina waiting for me in the next room? Or is something more sinister happening? The only way to find out the answers to my questions is to stand up and walk out of this room. A room that is more like a gloomy cave than an actual bedroom.