by S Williams
“You’re the threat he’s dealing with right now?” I’m in utter disbelief.
She laughs again, taking the seat beside me like we’re buddy-buddy. I slide away, looking her over. “I like the way that sounds. Me, a threat to Draco Molina. The Almighty Jefe,” she teases. “No. I wouldn’t say I’m a threat.” She rubs a finger over one of her diamond rings. “I’m just a woman who knows what she wants. And I know you aren’t a stupid girl, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I already told you, it’s not you that I want. It was never you. Draco is a hard man to find. It seems every time we catch one of his people and try to get them to talk, they get amnesia or something.” She rolls her bright gray eyes. “They can’t ever seem to remember where he is or even who he is. It’s interesting how far they will go and still not speak.”
“And you think I’ll crack and hand him over to you?”
Her laugh fills the large room. “Oh, I know you won’t. If he’s with you, you’re just as loyal as them. You wouldn’t betray him by giving him up. You’d probably rather die, I bet.”
I level my gaze.
“No, see, he knows that I have you. And right about now, he’s waiting for me to give him something to use—something to help him find you. If what I’ve heard is true—about how he’s taken you out in public, and that you are, in fact, a Nicotera—he will be ready to come for you as soon as he gets whatever information he needs.” She scans me with her eyes. “You look just like one, too. A Nicotera. The women always look so . . . fierce.”
She stands up and blows a breath, as if she’s bored. “We have a few hours of alone time. How about we change your clothes and have some dinner? I’ve had a long day, and I’m famished.”
I remain seated. “Dinner? Why, so you can poison me?”
“I have no reason to poison you. Honey, I really don’t even want you here. But I have to have you here to get to him. Don’t be so full of yourself.” She waves a hand, looking at the gold watch on her wrist. “Come. I don’t like my men manhandling women, but if it comes down to that, I make them. So it’s either you walk with me like a good girl, or I have them drag you around like a ragdoll.” Her arms fold and I see her guards square their shoulders through the corner of my eye. “Your choice.”
With a small grimace, I push up to a stand. Her eyes light up, like she’s truly delighted that I will be tagging along with her. Like this is some kind of girls’ night out.
“Smart choice.” She points a finger at me. “And I have the perfect outfit for you!” she says in a singsong voice, twirling around and gesturing for me to follow.
I look at the guards, how they glare at me, but follow her lead. I notice there is a pistol with a cheetah print handle tucked in the back of her belt. She’s no fool. She wants me to see it.
I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I don’t like it. Is this what she did to Thiago? Played friends and let him go? Or is she just doing this so that when Draco comes, he’ll question why she was so lenient with me—why she hasn’t killed me yet? Make him even more paranoid. I realize that’s probably what she does best. She knows him all too well, and I need to know how.
“You have great hair, you know that? So much volume.” Yessica brushes it into loose waves. I remain perfectly still in front of the vanity, the gold lights shining on us. She’s standing behind me, her guards at the door.
We’re in a bedroom, and of course, there is cheetah print everywhere, though it’s accented with red. I’m finding it unbelievably difficult not to grab the gun she placed right in front of me.
She taunts. It’s her thing. She did it on purpose. She’s trying to put me to the test. I was taught better than that.
She’s had me change into a champagne blouse and a pair of jeans that fit pretty well. We are about the same size, though I’d say I’m a little fuller in the hips and she’s more top heavy.
“You’ll be with me all night, sweet girl. Playing this quiet game won’t be any fun for you.” She steps from behind me, sitting on an empty space at the edge of the vanity. “Don’t you have any questions for me? Like how I know so much about your master?”
“He’s not my master,” I mutter.
“No?” She smiles. “Then what do you consider him?”
I hold her gaze. “My equal.”
“Oh, your equal?” She seems fascinated by that, and a little tickled. She pushes to a stand, picking up a makeup sponge and dabbing it on my cheek. I wince, not from the move she makes, but from the sting. There are several cuts on my face from the thorns. My palms and even my arms are scraped and scratched up as well.
“The explosions really did a number on you,” she sighs. “Sucks it got so out of hand.”
“Why do you want him so badly?” I finally ask when she draws back.
She grabs my elbow, forcing me to a stand.
“He has things I want. Important things. Let’s go.” She picks up her handgun and spins around, tucking it into her waistband again and sauntering out of the bedroom.
I follow her down the hallway, the guards trailing us, and when she takes a left, we’re entering a dining room. This isn’t the dining room we passed when I first got here. This one is much smaller. A four-top table already set up, a bright, diamond-like chandelier hanging above it. I’m so glad there isn’t any cheetah print in here. Only leather and oak.
She takes a seat and then taps the chair to the right of her. I suppress my frown, walking to the seat and sitting. The guard pushes my chair in and I freeze then, giving him a cold look.
“Ease up, sweetie,” Yessica says as food is brought to the table. “They won’t hurt you unless I tell them to. You’re making my evening entertaining so there’s no need to do anything. Unlike Draco, I treat my guests with respect.”
There she goes again, acting like she knows everything about him. I don’t speak and when she realizes I’m playing the silent game again, she says, “Dig in.”
She picks up food for her plate as wine is poured. At first we eat in silence, but I’m sure it’s only because she’s eating. She wasn’t kidding. She is hungry. She cuts into her steak and potatoes, eating rapidly, and then guzzles down her first cup of red wine.
“Mmm.” She clutches her fork and knife in hand. When she’s finished chewing, she says, “You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t eaten anything but an apple today. Busy, busy day.” She scans me with her bright eyes. “Go on. Eat.”
I stick my fork into the green beans, bringing one up to my mouth. Since it all came from the same bowl and plates, I assume it isn’t poisoned . . . unless she’s just that fucking crazy and has an antidote around somewhere.
As I chew, I feel her watching me. Dropping her knife and fork, she picks up her wine glass and takes a small sip. Then she says, “The scars on your wrists? Where did they come from?”
I blink rapidly at her before focusing on the scars. Insecurity eats me whole, and I shift in my seat, grabbing my wine glass to take a small sip.
“He had you chained or roped up, didn’t he?” she pushes.
Still, I don’t speak.
“How long?”
I breathe unevenly, annoyed by her questions now. Something hard pushes into the back of my skull and I pause on my chewing, looking over at her. Her smile is smug now. Faint, but smug.
“How long?” she asks again.
“Six days.” Anger strikes me, but I remain calm on the outside. The gun is pulled away from my head and I look over at the driver again. He doesn’t look at me. He simply crosses his arms in front of him, staring out of the window across the room.
“Oh, that’s horrible,” she coos. “You know, I’ve heard about you—what happened to you.” She shifts in her seat, trying to get a little more comfortable. “I heard you were here, in Mexico, for a wedding. And not just any wedding, but yours. You were the beautiful bride that was snatched away.” She lowers her wine glass. “How can you live with that? With him?
Knowing he’s the man who killed your husband?”
I lower my gaze a little, to the scars on my wrist and then my uneaten steak.
“He ruined your life, Gia, yet you’re still like some lost puppy—loyal to him because he feeds you and bathes you and claims to protect you. And yet,” she murmurs, “here you are. Under my roof. Snatched away again.” She waves a finger at me. “He thinks he’s invincible. Like he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.” Her voice is harsher now. I meet her eyes and she’s frowning. “He has a terrible, selfish mind.”
“Draco isn’t the one who ruined my life. He killed the man that ruined my life,” I say as evenly as possible.
Her gray eyes flash with amusement. “Oh, really?” She leans forward in her seat, picking up her glass again. “Now, that sounds like some juicy gossip. Go on,” she waves an impatient hand. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. It’s personal.”
She pauses on taking the next sip, side-eyeing me briefly before sighing as if she’s bored. “Listen, sweet girl. En mi casa, nothing is personal. Whatever you consider a delicate matter, forget about it. Either way, I will find out, whether you willingly tell me or I have to beat the answers out of you myself. Doesn’t matter as long as I get down to the truth.” She gloats, like she really can take me on. Let her try me. I’m almost hoping for a one-on-one match. No guns. No weapons. Just us girls.
“I’m not sure what you want to know.” I clasp my fingers in my lap, holding onto my restraint. There are knives in front of me, silver and sharp. They call to me. Whisper—telling me to just kill her and take my chances.
But I’m surrounded. I wouldn’t get far. I’ve counted the number of guards I’ve seen so far. Fourteen, and I’m sure that isn’t even the half. She’s a woman. She requires more protection.
“About the man he killed,” she continues. “How did that man—your husband, correct?—ruin your life?”
“He killed my father.”
She gasps, as if she’s truly shocked. “Your husband killed your father!”
I don’t speak or nod or do anything. I remain perfectly still, fingers balling into fists now. She’s good. I have to remember she’s trying to make me tick. She wants to find a reason to hurt me—make me crack.
“That is some foul shit,” she laughs, rounding her finger around the rim of her glass. She sits back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and showing off her heels. “I didn’t care about my father, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt me as much if that were to happen to me. But I assume you were close to yours?”
Still nothing.
She looks down at her half-eaten food. “Yes. You were. And let me guess. Draco told you the news? That’s why you’re so keen to him? So loyal? He was close with the Nicoteras, if I’m recalling it correctly.”
Again, I don’t supply an answer.
Not that she cares. She already knows the answers to all of it.
“Sucks.” Her tone is nonchalant. She finishes off her wine then sits forward, dropping her leg and shooting to a stand. She walks to the window, fluffing her hair. “I wonder what he’s doing now? He’s probably flipping everything upside down, searching the city high and low for his little pet. Or maybe not. Maybe he doesn’t even care.”
“He cares, and he’ll come.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, smirking. “What makes you so sure?”
“He will.”
“Aw, sweet girl.” She makes a clucking noise, coming up to me, her heels clicking on the floor. “He makes you feel special? You think he’ll come in here like Superman and save the day.” She wags a degrading finger at me. “No, see, Draco Molina is no Superman. He’s the man that Superman has to take down because he’s so fucked up and vile. He makes you feel these things—like you owe him—but truthfully you don’t owe him shit. Trust me, I know all too well.”
“How do you know?” I demand, searching her eyes for the truth.
Her upper lip quirks up. “Draco has had plenty of women before you, Gia Nicotera. You wouldn’t be the first to go through the Molina Experiment. And an experiment is just what it is. It’s a test to see how long you’ll last with him. To see when you will crack and fold under his pressure, until he no longer finds you useful. Until you are nothing but a piece of meat he can fuck whenever he feels the urge.” Each sentence comes out angrier than the last.
And then it hits me.
“You were with him,” I say in a small voice, eyes expanding.
She grins, pressing a hand down on the table and leaning on it. “Oh,” she exhales. “I breathed Draco. I dreamed about him. I worshipped him. I wanted to be just like him . . . but then I realized something amazing. I realized,” she murmurs, “that I could be so much better.” She looks around, holding up her free hand. “And now I have all of this, plus more.” A light shrug. “Turns out I didn’t need the almighty Jefe after all. But I do miss that angry sex. God, he was so good in bed. So daunting yet so fucking satisfying. That’s a hard combination to acquire these days.”
I curl my fingers around my fork now, pulling my eyes away. I feel her staring down at me, and then I hear a throaty laugh come from her.
“I’m sure you think the same, no?” She stands up straight again, huffing. “Well, you should rest up. It’s been a long day for all of us. David here will be staying in a bedroom with you, just to make sure you don’t try to run away or anything. There are pajamas and there’s even a shower. Make use of it. Be the beautiful doll you are.” Her heels click as she walks toward the arched doorway in the wall that leads to the hall. “Have a good night, Gia.”
When she’s gone, I drop my fork, looking out the window. My heart pounds in my chest, my mouth dryer now. I’m pissed, and I need to find a way out of here right now, but it’s fucking hopeless. This place is locked down. The guards are all over the place. There are people everywhere, and I’ve noticed cameras in each room, through each hall.
Shit.
I’ve never needed Draco more.
24
I don’t sleep a wink.
I made use of the shower, but of course David stood in the bathroom with me with the door wide open, staring out of it. He didn’t watch me undress or wash, but it still bugged me he was there at all.
Still, I was relieved she sent this trained guard up and not that clown Alonso. He would have ogled like a fucking maniac.
Before I know it, the sun has come up. I’m sitting on the window bench, looking out toward the empty desert. I had hopes, deep down, that Draco would show up sometime in between, but he hasn’t. Because he has no idea where the hell I am.
David didn’t sleep either. He watched me, scrolled through his cellphone occasionally, the gun on the table beside him. Some other men came in to deliver coffee. He offered a cup to me but I ignored him. Sucks that he seems so normal, but will probably wind up dead later for being on the wrong side. He seems like a decent guy just doing his job.
When the sun is higher in the sky, I assume it’s around noon. There’s a knock at the door. Someone says something to him in a low, deep voice when he answers the door and then he turns to look at me. “Get dressed.”
Hope fills me up. Maybe he’s already here. Maybe he’s solved this issue, and I can go back to the mansion with him . . . maybe.
I pick up the same clothes I had on yesterday and get dressed in them rapidly. I toss my hair up, sliding my feet into the cheetah print sandals. David opens the door when he sees I’m finished and I walk past him, following the second guard out in the hall.
David follows behind me, and even though I can’t see it, I feel the gun pointed at me. We walk through the hallways, into the kitchen, and out a back door. The guard in front of me marches across the large deck and down the polished wooden steps. He makes his way across the lawn, pushing a white gate open once he’s met up to it. I glance over my shoulder. David is still behind me, gun at his side.
Pressing my lips, I continue forward, across the red dirt
. There is nothing out here but land and for a moment I panic, wondering if they’re leading me to my death.
I look all around, plotting ways I can take them down.
Go for the guard in front of me first.
Tackle him.
Take his gun.
Shoot David first.
Shoot the other.
Run like hell.
But it doesn’t come down to that because the man in front of me comes to a halt and bends down, pulling on the round handles of a door in the ground. I pause when it slings open and stairs come into view.
He gives me a sideways glance before going down first. I watch him until I can’t see anymore. It’s pitch black down there. Something nudges me in the back and I look back at David.
He bobs his head, telling me to go without words. Sighing, I step down, pressing a hand to the dirt wall to keep my balance. With each step down, it becomes darker and darker. David follows closely behind. When he shuts the door above, it’s pitch black.
A flashlight turns on in an instant and he shines it down on me.
“Go,” he says.
I continue down, heart rattling, palms clammy.
My breath is shaky as I hold onto the dirt wall. I see the last step and relief swarms me. And then I see the tunnel to my right. An underground tunnel. There are gas lamps on the floor, providing some light.
The man that was in front of me cocks his head and then turns, walking off. I follow behind, scanning the area, looking for any chance at escape. We walk in near darkness for what feels like forever, until finally, I see an opening.
It’s just as dim in here, but there is furniture. Two couches with a small flat-screen TV and a game system set up in front of it. A single chair is against the wall, but it’s occupied.
I gasp, seeing exactly who occupies it. His head hangs low. He has no shirt on, just a pair of dirty jeans. He’s roped to the chair, his ankles strapped too.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Thiago?”
He picks his head up, blinking slow with those familiar dark eyes. “The fucking rebel,” he laughs, voice dry.