The Punishment: The Downing Family Book 3

by Wild, Cassie

  It wasn’t locked. Seized by a sudden sense of panic, I flipped the lock and leaned against the door, my brow touching the wood.

  I sensed more than heard Brooks as he edged a bit closer. In a rough voice, he asked, “What were you thinking? Coming down here like this? After what happened last time?”

  The incredulity in his tone pissed me off.

  The question itself pissed me off.

  “What was I thinking?” I spun to face him and realized there was another emotion raging inside me. Anger.

  A lot of it.

  “Gee, I don’t know, Brooks,” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. “Maybe I was thinking about how you looked lying on the sidewalk, blood spilling out of you and onto my hands. Maybe I was thinking about all the girls I’ve seen in that club. My age. Isabel’s age. Girls even younger than that. Maybe I was seeing them in my head and wondering how many of them had been forced into this like I had?”

  My voice rose with every word, and it took all my concentration to keep from yelling at him.

  “Maybe I was thinking that I needed to find a way to keep you safe, to keep Isabelle safe. Maybe I wanted to try and help all the girls at the club. Women like me who are being forced to do things they don’t want.” I jutted my chin up as I glared at him. “Maybe I was thinking that I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines, helpless and pathetic.”

  Something in his gaze softened. “You’re not pathetic, Daria. This…this just isn’t your world.”

  “And because of that, I got taken for one hell of a ride,” I shot back. “It’s fucked up, and it pisses me off, wondering how many girls the Castellanos have working for them who don’t have somebody like you or Isabel, people with the power or connections to get them out of hell. And I hate it.”

  I could tell my words had gotten to him, but the spark of anger and helplessness still burned in his eyes.

  I took a step toward him. “I was suffocating, Brooks. Trying to absorb everything that was going on, everything that had happened, everything that could have happened. Hell, my own teacher is involved in this. I felt like there was a blade hanging over my neck every day, and then you got shot…”

  My voice broke.

  In the next moment, I was wrapped up in his arms, and he pressed my face into his chest.

  I swallowed back a sob and forced my hands to grip his waist, not to seek out the injury that still seared my mind’s eye.

  “I had to do something, Brooks.” I sniffled, eyes closed. I could smell the warm, strong scent of him, and I let my hands rub up and down his sides for a moment, taking in the feel of him. Strong. Warm. Alive. “After you got shot…”

  “I’m okay,” he said, voice rough. There was still an edge to his voice, but it had softened. “I’m okay, Daria. I’ve been going crazy thinking about what could have happened to you.” He took in a deep breath. “Why didn’t you come to me? If it’s this important, you should have let me help.”

  “And would you have let me come down here?” I asked stubbornly. “Go back into the clubs? Dance and look for some kind of evidence that would let me keep you safe, keep Isabel safe, and maybe help those girls?”

  He rubbed his hand across the small of my back. “Daria, it’s not your job to save everybody.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it’s anybody’s job,” I muttered sourly, thinking of a few girls I’d seen here at the party and at the club. I knew, in my gut, that too many of them weren’t even of legal age, but here they were, being forced to sell their bodies in various ways. I’d seen one of the girls up close, had seen the misery in her eyes. I thought about Peaches and how kind she’d been, lending me her robe, trying to talk me through my nerves, then the fear I’d seen in her eyes as Marcos towered over her, the swelling of her lower lip. “Maybe it’s not my job, but nobody else seems willing to help, Brooks. I had you and Isabel. Who do they have?”

  A hard breath escaped him. “You could have gotten hurt, Daria.”

  “It was worth it,” I replied. “To try and help those girls, to protect the people I love…”

  I tensed, easing back from him. Carefully, I avoided his eyes. That was something I hadn’t meant to say at all. But now the words hung between us.

  “The people you love, Daria?” he said, voice gentle.

  I swallowed while blood rushed to my face, heating my cheeks. I disentangled myself from his arms and turned away. Burying my face in my hands, I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  I was saved from having to respond to him by a hard, forceful knock on the door.

  I jerked in reaction, staring at the knob as it twisted left, then right.

  “We’ll be out in a few minutes,” he called gruffly.

  And I could still feel him staring at me.

  “We can’t talk about this right now,” I said, voice trembling.

  He covered both of my shoulders with his hands, drawing me back against him.

  Somebody twisted the knob again, and I shivered, wondering who it was. Marcos?

  “Daria…”

  I twisted out of Brooks’ hands and paced a few feet away. He turned in a slow circle, still watching me.

  “We can’t talk about this now, Brooks,” I said again in a low voice, conscious of whoever might be on the other side of that door. “Somebody is already knocking. What if Marcos sees us?”

  “I don’t give a fuck if he does or not,” Brooks responded flatly.

  The knock came again, harder, heavier. “I don’t want to risk it, Brooks. I can’t even begin to imagine the things he’s capable of.” I paused, chewing my lower lip before adding, “I don’t want to think about the things he’s capable of doing.”

  “I’m every bit as dangerous as that punk, Marcos,” Brooks murmured, his thumbs digging into the tense muscles in my back.

  I fought the need to sag against him, watching the door as though it might come alive and bite me. I so wanted to lean against Brooks and let him take control now, but the thought of Marcos being on the other side of that door left me shivering.

  He noticed.

  “You’re safe now, Daria,” he murmured.

  I wanted to believe that, but I couldn’t. Not here, not with who only knew who was on the other side of that door. The memory of the way Marcos had backhanded me lit up my mind, and without thinking, I reached up and touched the area on my cheek that had bruised and hurt so badly.

  I didn’t realize that Brooks had let go of my shoulders, or that he’d circled around me until his hand covered mine.

  I looked up and met his eyes, saw something flare in the dark blue depths.

  He traced the spot on my cheek that had bruised the worst, a deep, blackish purple that had lingered for days before turning that fading, ugly yellow.

  Understanding, I realized.

  “Is Marcos the one who hit you?” he asked, voice ragged.

  The doorknob twitched again, rattled back and forth. “Not here,” I said, staring at him pleadingly. “Please, Brooks. We can talk. Just…not here.”

  He dipped his head, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Okay. Not here. But we’re not done with this conversation, Daria. We’re not even close to done.”

  Fifteen

  Brooks

  I contacted Antoine and told him to wait for me just outside the gate that surrounded Marcos’ property.

  He assured me he was close and would be there within minutes.

  That gave me plenty of time to get Daria out of there.

  Whoever had been knocking on the door must have gotten bored or given up. When I looked outside, there was nobody in sight, although the music from the party was still a quiet roar.

  After checking up and down the hall once more, I looked back at Daria and held out a hand.

  She eyed me nervously. “What are we doing?” she asked softly.

  “Leaving here.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue.

  “I’ll handle the Castellanos, Daria,” I said. “If by chance they are
the ones behind my getting shot, I’ll deal with them. We’ll keep Isabel safe. But you are not staying here.”

  A stubborn light glinted in her eyes, but at a sharp noise from outside, she swallowed. Finally, she nodded and came toward me, slipping her hand into mine.

  Already, I was hungry for her again, but I lashed that down tight. There wasn’t room or time for anything but getting her far away from that place.

  We slipped out via the room next to the office. The room looked like a library, the kind somebody had when they wanted to impress people, full of thick, heavy books that had probably never been read. The lights in there were low, reflecting the panes of glass in the oversized French doors. Just outside those doors, it was dark.

  If I had the layout of the house right in my head, we were on the eastern side of the house, near the front corner. I hadn’t had much time to look over the place when I’d arrived earlier, and now I was regretting that I hadn’t taken just a couple of minutes to scope it out. I thought the way was clear, though, the only barricade being the tall stone fence that surrounded the property. The gates had been thrown open for the party, although two armed guards stood at the entrance, monitoring those who came in, verifying they had indeed been invited.

  “Come on,” I told Daria as I unlocked the door on the right. “We need to move.”

  She hurried along next to me, tottering once. I grabbed her to steady her, and she rested a hand on my arm. “Give me a minute,” she said softly.

  She bent down and unbuckled one shoe, then the other, kicking them off her feet. As I watched, she curled her toes into the grass beneath her, a soft sigh escaping her throat.

  I went to pick up the shoes, but she stopped me. “I never want to wear those again,” she said, her voice soft but fervent.

  We left them behind us, lying in the grass. We were already almost a dozen yards from the house, and I could just barely make out the darker shadow that was the stone fence.

  As we drew nearer, I debated on how to handle getting through the gates without making the guards suspicious. In the end, I decided to just brazen it out.

  I could see the red headlights of a car as I tugged Daria onto the paved drive with me. I glanced at her feet, clad now only in the stockings she wore. “Are your feet okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m a dancer. I could probably walk on glass and not feel it.”

  Her face was pale, but it was hard to tell if it was more than usual or just the glow coming from the full moon shining overhead. I wanted to slow my pace but didn’t dare. Not yet. Not until we were away from Marcos.

  The guards heard us coming, and one of them turned to face me. For a brief second, I saw confusion in his eyes. He moved toward me, a hand resting on his weapon as he studied us. “What is your business, sir?”

  “All partied out,” I said. Gesturing to the car, I told him, “I’m just ready to get back to my place and go to bed.”

  The guard didn’t look away from my face. “Why didn’t your driver come inside to collect you? And your…companion?”

  “Are you kidding?” I gestured behind me. “You’ve seen the gridlock up there.” There had been a couple dozen cars competing for curb space when Antoine dropped me off, and I was betting that hadn’t changed.

  I brushed past him, urging Daria in front of me.

  There was the distinct click as one of the guards readied a weapon.

  Slowly, I looked back at them. Antoine was now just ten feet away.

  “You really want to pull a weapon on me?” I bared my teeth at them. “You have no idea who I am.”

  The man who had approached me first was the one holding the weapon steady. His eyes narrowed. “You think I give a fuck who you are?”

  “You will once I tell Marcos one of his goons pulled a weapon on me.” I didn’t bother looking at the weapon. “Marcos will have your ass for the trouble you’re about to cause him.”

  “I’m not causing the boss any trouble.” He smiled at me. “I’m causing trouble for you.”

  “And you do one fucking thing to me—including piss me off by holding that weapon on me—Marcos might just slit your throat.” I gave him a cool smile. “Granted, we don’t much like each other, but we’re family.”

  The two men exchanged a look.

  “Oh, didn’t you know his kid sister got married?”

  The weapon wavered.

  “You married Isabel?” the second one asked, speaking for the first time.

  “No. My brother did. And I can guarantee you that Basilio will be out for blood if there’s a problem between our families.” Tucking my hands into my pockets, I cocked my head at the second one, who seemed to have a bit more intelligence.

  “You’re fucking lyin’,” the first one said.

  With a sigh, I reached for my pocket. Eyes on their faces, I said calmly, “I’m reaching for my phone. We’re just going to call Basilio and straighten this out.”

  “We don’t work for Basilio,” he said, sneering.

  “No…but I bet you’re scared shitless of him.” I smiled.

  He flinched, the gun sagging in his grip until the barrel was aimed at my knees. Immediately, the sneer was back, and he re-leveled the weapon on me, even more intent as if he had to somehow cover for that lapse.

  His partner reached over and nudged the weapon down. He nodded at the car. “Go on, both of you.”

  The first man spat something out in Spanish too fast for me to translate. The other one didn’t bother to reply.

  Unwilling to turn my back on them, I snapped my fingers.

  Antoine had been watching us because he pulled up and slid from the car, opening the door for Daria as I stood there.

  “Get back in the car,” I told him.

  Once I heard his door shut, I half-shifted, keeping the two men in my gaze as I ducked into the car.

  They started arguing as I left.

  * * *

  Antoine pulled up in front of the address I’d given him. It was a mid-range hotel, not one of my usual five stars, but flying under the radar was important now. I checked that I had one of my backup IDs on me, as well as a credit card. With everything in place, I took Daria’s arm.

  While we’d been in the car, I’d stripped out of my light jacket and button-down, giving the shirt to Daria to pull on over that joke of an outfit she still wore. It revealed far more than it covered, and the thought of another man seeing her like that had my already jagged temper spiking out of control.

  The shirt hit her mid-thigh, still revealing a lot of leg, but at least she was covered.

  Taking her hand, I led her inside the hotel.

  She was quiet as I checked us in, using the alternate ID to book the room.

  I was burning through my fake IDs faster than I ever had. I’d need to get our man to outfit me with a few more because I wasn’t using any of these ever again, just in case.

  Once we had our room keys, I slid the man a twenty. “Mark us as unavailable. I don’t want any calls, any visitors.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t quite snatch the bill away, but it was pretty close.

  We were silent as we took the elevator to the tenth floor. From the corner of my eye, I could see Daria tugging at the sleeves she’d rolled up. Once we were inside the room, she took a deep breath, and I could all but see her tension melt away.

  At least she was able to relax.

  I was strung so tight, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to relax again.

  As I watched her, she reached up and freed the pins from her hair. When the long, pale gold strands finally fell loose about her shoulders, she combed her hands through her curls and shook her head as if to ease a headache.

  “What’s the story with Marcos?” I asked her softly.

  She went still, her gaze on the floor. Finally, she looked up at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play games, Daria,” I said gently. “I’m barely hanging onto my control as it is. Marcos put that bruise on you, didn’t he?”
<
br />   She gave a slow, tentative nod.

  I didn’t bother asking why she’d gone to his house if she already knew what he was like. She had her reasons, brave, reckless, foolish reasons, and her answer wouldn’t change any of that.

  Instead, I cut around her and paced over to the window. The drapes had been pulled back, and I stared out at the hectic, bright color that was a Miami night. Even though it was almost midnight, there were still plenty of cars leaving ribbons of red as they drove into the distance. I could also see a line out in front of the club across the street.

  “You said you loved me,” I said softly. When she didn’t respond, I turned my head and stared at her. “Did you mean it?”

  “Yes.” It came out a bare whisper.

  It was soothing, and yet at the same time, her admission only made me angrier.

  “Do you want to be mine?”

  There was a world of hesitation in her eyes, but she licked her lips. “Would that make you mine?”

  “Yes. But you didn’t answer me.”

  “Yes,” she said, voice shaking. “I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.”

  “You know what I am, Daria.” I wasn’t just talking about my family. “I haven’t hidden anything from you, have I?”

  “I…I don’t think so,” she said, licking her lips.

  I gave her a nod, then resumed my study of the world outside this hotel.

  “Get undressed, Daria. You are mine and have been almost from the time I first laid eyes on you. You’re mine…and you didn’t trust me. I’m going to punish you for that.”

  Sixteen

  Daria

  At first, I thought I’d misunderstood him.

  But when he turned to stare at me, eyes hard and unrelenting, I realized he’d said exactly what I thought he’d said. “What do you mean…punish me?” I hated how my voice shook.

  He took a step toward me.

  I locked my legs to keep from backing away.