Lies & Lullabies

by Courtney Lane

  Using his hold as leverage, I lifted my foot to build up momentum and used the second one to land a kick to his groin.

  His hold tightened on my wrist. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as they reddened, fighting against the pain I’d dealt to his most sensitive area. Eventually, he had no choice. He coughed and wheezed, bowing forward, and released his hold on me.

  I dashed down the corridor, sliding on my ass as I raced down the marble floors. I took the steps two, and occasionally three, at a time. Racing across the foyer in long and fast strides, I started for the front door.

  I tried for the door, the metal panel over the knob glowed a steady red. As though I finally had luck on my side, it turned green, and a clicking sound emanated from the crease between the two doors.

  I burst through the doors, swinging my arms in a controlled fashion to heighten my speed. I never looked back, and I never looked down. Twigs and dry needles padded my heavy steps, burning the tender bottom of my feet.

  The gate to the estate was closed. I searched around for a panel and pushed a series of buttons. Nothing would make it budge. My head swayed from left to right, sizing up the brick enclosure on either side of the wrought iron gate.

  I checked back at the path toward the house. Catch should’ve recovered, but he was nowhere to be found. A tree large enough to give me a boost caught my attention. Rubbing my hands together, I prepared them. I scaled the lower branches until I reached an overarching branch. Extending my body, I reached out clutching the brick enclosure and unwrapped my legs from the branch.

  Having trouble pulling myself up, I pushed with all my leg strength and vaulted to the other end. I fell several feet down and curled my back to soften the blow. My action helped very little; the impact burned my spine, slowing me down.

  I staggered up, running away from the street and into the dense forest of trees. I zigzagged around until I heard the telltale sign of a car. I stayed on the side of the tree line until I was sure it wasn’t Catch. When I was certain, I raced toward the road.

  They passed me by despite my overdramatic arm-waving. I was ready to give up until I heard the screech of tires.

  I limped toward the car, keeping my distance in case my ride would’ve been a worse fate than going back to Catch. A man dressed in a black suit, clad in huge black sunglasses turned to me. “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, I checked both sides of the roads. “Can you take me…take me somewhere?”

  Sliding his sunglasses on top of his head, he showed me a glimpse of his glimmering, dark brown eyes. “Whatever you need. Come in.”

  I swung the door open and settled into the seat. As he drove off, I quickly shut the door. “There's a girl back there in trouble. I need you to call to the cops.”

  His head jerked so quickly, a hair disobeyed the gel he saturated his mane with and began to stick straight up. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

  I fastened my seatbelt and ignored him. “Thank you for stopping to help me, but can we not?” I pointed to his phone in the center console. “Call.”

  “Sure.” He touched a full bottle of Evian in the cup holder. “Have some water. Calm down. You’re safe now, okay?”

  I shook my head declining.

  A loud pop caused the car to rock and jar. Unable to maintain control of the wheel, he veered off the side, sending the car careening toward the forest. The force thrust us to the right, and then the left. My head crashed against the side door glass with such a heavy impact, my vision began to blur.

  A sound similar to a firecracker went off. Glass shattered on the driver’s side. The man who helped me had gotten his head stuck partially inside the glass on his driver’s side window.

  I shoved at the door but it was stuck against a tree. I looked up for a sunroof and had no luck. Struggling with my seatbelt, I slid into the backseat on the passenger side, and shoved the door open.

  Willpower won over whatever the crash had done to my senses. I rolled out of the backseat, onto the side of the road. Turning toward my path, I forced myself to push through and ran at a delayed pace down the road. I stumbled as my legs gave out on me. The roadside spun around as if sucked through a spinning vortex.

  “Sugar,” Catch called me sweetly, his voice resounding from behind me. “There’s no point in running from me, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t listen.

  A waffle resounded through the air. I felt a burn at my neck. I touched a feather, attached to a small cylinder. Pulling it from my neck, I examined it. Between the feather and the needle was an empty vial.

  The crackle of shoes on leaves and tree needles pounded in rhythm with the ear-piercing hum. I lifted my heavy lids to see a pair of leather boots in front of me, legs dressed in dark pants, and the barrel of a tranquilizer gun gripped tightly in his hand.

  “You’re trying to kill me,” I spat at Catch, holding my neck. I dropped my hand, finding it too heavy to maneuver.

  He crouched down into my line of sight. He was genial, entertained with the ordeal.

  “Just kill me and get it over with.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re never going to die by my hand or anyone else’s.” A hand reached out for me. I tried and failed to smack it away. He grasped my hips and helped me stand upright, propping me up against what I assumed was a tree.

  “You’ve learned a very valuable lesson today, Sugar. I’ll do anything to get to you, including kill.” He embraced me like an attentive lover. “I’m not going to tell you what I know about you. That would suck the fun out of the time we’re going to share together. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me everything.

  “You haven’t come to my side of things, but you will. When you do, you will realize what I know; we want the same things, sweetheart.” Sucking his teeth, he glanced at my neck; I knew better than to think it—pity cinched his features. “I shot you with a tranquilizer dart. I can tell you haven’t been getting much sleep, and the small dose will affect you more than what’s considered usual to give you some much needed rest. It will be a while before you wake up again.”

  “You shot me like I’m a dog with rabies?” My words were so slurred I barely understood them.

  “I shot you because you’re stubborn.”

  “Fuck…you!”

  A soft raking of his nails against the delicate skin on my neck elicited a violent shudder. “Fuck me, Sugar?” He held my head firmly and rested his lips against my ear. “I know this is hard for you, but have patience, sweetheart. You’re going to wish you could hate how much I’m going to make you feel.”

  His warning was the last thing I heard. The duplicitous good looks were the last vision imprinted in my mind.

  -8-

  READY TO BEGIN?

  Taking care, I sat up in bed and surveyed my surroundings. I had been transported to a bed in a room different from the one where I stumbled on Catch’s secret.

  One-sided frenetic chatter filtered into the room, emanating from the hallway. The woman’s voice sounded very similar to Jory’s—and even closer to the woman who helped Catch at the hotel in California Plaza.

  “Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Jory said. “It was funny, watching her get all scared and run, wasn’t it?”

  I supposed the joke was on me. I slid out of bed fingering an outfit foreign to me; a white summer sweater, and a white skater skirt. A mild soreness hit me on my neck and torso, indicating he might’ve given me something to numb my pain. I was oddly without any underwear. My pussy felt like walking sex, and was lightly lubricated by some kind of clear blue jelly substance. My only calming thought was that it didn’t feel like I’d been fucked.

  As I planted my feet down on solid ground, a restricting device tightened around my ankle. I lifted my leg to investigate. A thick ankle cuff was secured around my ankle.

  Exhaling loudly, I brushed my hands over my damp hair, partially dry in places, forming my natural curls.

  A shadow hit the room and drew my gaze to the doorway.
Catch greeted me with neither a smile nor a frown. The too-pretty-to-be-such-a-psychotic-asshole was placid. “I apologize for Jory’s behavior; she has a very esoteric sense of humor.”

  “You can say that again,” I grumbled. “The dead body would’ve made me run, anyhow.”

  “I told her the same.” With a sigh, he stepped forward. “Your bracelet doubles as a tracking device.”

  I stared at the offending piece of jewelry and blew out a hissing stream of air.

  “Sugar, take my simple piece of advice and use it going forward. Confidence is a tool. Arrogance is a disadvantage.”

  “What the fuck do you want from me, Catch?” My exhausted voice was barely audible. I felt heavy, my reactions slowed.

  “I don’t know how much simpler I can make the answer to your question.”

  “Try.”

  “You.”

  “Sexually?”

  He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and chuckled. “Why do you constantly return to sex? Do you really think I would go through all of this just to keep you here and fuck you on a daily basis? That’s a benefit, not my sole purpose.” He jerked my chin up to regard him. “You haven’t stopped thinking about it—what I made you feel in the hotel room. The appetizer for the full meal has you pining for more.” He swiped his thumb across the corner of my mouth. “Someday, I’ll feed you more than you can handle.”

  Throwing my arms across my chest and shifting my feet underneath me, I receded deeper into the bed. “Despite what you did for me and the amazing thing you did for Darren, right now we’re not anything close to friends. My cup is pretty full up on crazy people.”

  His grin turned wolfish as though he was ready to exploit the victim he trapped with poisoned bait. I mentally berated myself to prevent falling into his cunning and beautiful trap. “You’ll find I have a very contagious way about me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll stay here and comply? That I won’t try to run again?”

  He grabbed my thighs and tugged me down toward the edge of the bed. I fought to keep my skirt down during the act and missed the opportunity to push him away. He slid a hand into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. My mouth opened to speak. He prevented my protest, placing a finger to my lips.

  I jerked back, hating the feeling evoked when he touched any part of me.

  Showing the screen of his cell phone on the cusp of a freeze frame, he revealed what was on it.

  I stood before my legs were ready to endure the weight. Crashing into his body, I almost fell to my knees on the floor. It’s Deana, my half-sister.

  He wrapped one arm around me, embracing my energy-drained body. He held the phone within my view and tapped the screen to play the video:

  “Please,” Deana begged, her words muffled, “what do you want from me?” She was tied to a chair in a dark and dilapidated room. A lone spotlight shone on her face. Blood decorated pieces of her features and the upper portion of her shirt. A strap of cloth was tied around her head and planted between her lips but still allowed her to speak. “I’ll do anything you want,” she pleaded. “Please, let me go.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I muttered, balling my hands in anger. “I was already skeptical. I should’ve known better. You think you know about me? Is that why you came to a place way out of your way to get cigarettes you could’ve gotten anywhere? Do you know what Michael is going to do to you when he finds out you have his only daughter? She’s his pride and fucking joy. He would die for her.”

  “His only daughter?” An eye narrowed as he looked down his nose at me.

  I tried to move his arms from around me; the man was like a rock when he didn’t want to move. The muscles in his arms flexed and tensed, strengthening his hold on me. “Why help Darren, then take Deana? If you did this because you thought it would affect me—it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Apples and broccoli,” he said as though I was supposed to understand. “It makes sense when you are looking at it from the right perspective.”

  “You mean apples and oranges?”

  “It’s an incorrect way to compare. Both are fruit with similar tastes. What I’m referring to has nothing in common with the other.”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  His eyes glistened with a secret knowledge he wouldn’t share, making him appear a bit more smug. He scanned my face as though he was in search of an emotion he couldn’t find. “Why are you putting on an act as though you lack feelings for her?”

  “I’m not. I don’t really know her.”

  Inexpressive eyes and a strangled grin greeted me at once. “I’m losing track of your lies, Sugar.”

  I rolled my neck and cracked my knuckles, trying to distract him with my erratic movements and not let onto my confusion. “You…knew I was connected to Deana before you met me?”

  He ran his finger across the screen and showed a picture of me with Deana during the costume party in August. The connection and the reason he had the picture had begun to come together. I wondered if the woman in the bath was one of the women who was declared missing from the “family.” If true, I was staring down the face of a man who had a vendetta against the syndicate, and wanted me and Deana to be his next targets.

  I had to find some way to save her. Fast.

  “How much do you think you know about me?” I questioned.

  “A good player never reveals his strategy by disclosing what he knows about his opponent,” Catch replied. “He only gives a glimpse, be it false or true, to whether or not he can win the game.”

  “Again with the fucking riddles?”

  “If you weren’t so blinded, you wouldn’t see them that way. You would see them as morsels of truth.”

  Deana was the only person in my life who was good to me. If anything happened to her, it would’ve broken me. My act to behave as though Deana meant nothing to take away Catch’s bargaining chip eluded me. “Don’t hurt her.” My voice cracked and delved into a docile territory I hadn’t touched in years. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want…let her go.”

  “That’s different for you.” His fingers grazed against my chin. I jerked backward but didn’t get very far due to his iron strong hold on my body with one arm. I allowed him to touch me.

  “All this time you’ve met my words with threats and unwise statements. Now you’re showing me underneath the act to be tough, you are vulnerable.” He bit into his lip, staring at me. The shift in his eyes was stark. “Show me all your pretty, soft pink and gray parts, Sugar, and I’ll let you into my world.”

  “Never willingly. Never fucking again.”

  He released me, and I flopped back on the edge of the bed. Ducking down, he cradled my foot in his hands, drawing my attention to the device surrounding my ankle. “If you run again, I won’t have to chase you. There’s poison in this ankle bracelet. All it takes is the touch of a sensor, and a needle will inject itself into your skin and dispense the poison. I’m told once the poison floods your body, you will experience the worst pain imaginable. You’ll cry. You’ll beg. You’ll be compliant in ways you never thought you could be. It will cripple you with pain for days.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me up to stand with him. “Downstairs. Ten minutes.”

  On the tail end of his exit, I scanned around the room and spotted a camera in the upper left side of the room.

  Turning to the bed, I grabbed a pillow, hoping the psychotic asshole hadn’t installed cameras in the bathroom as well. I placed the pillow to my face and screamed into it.

  I returned downstairs in less than a chipper mood. All I wanted was my freedom. My affiliation with Michael made sure I made my way into another prison. Granted, the company and the scenery was better, but the company consisted of one unpredictable killer.

  Catch sat in the middle side chair at the long ivory dining table.

  I sat across from him and glowered at the food on the table as though it was laced with cyanide. “Where’s your lawyer?”

  He considered me with a
mischievous grin on his face. “You really believed I’d draw up a contract for ownership of you? A contract like that would be silly. Besides, we’ve reached a verbal understanding, haven’t we?”

  “So this is what?”

  “It’s a dinner meant to help us get acquainted.” He clasped his hands over the table and shot a glance toward the empty seat beside him.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very.” Grit wormed its way into his voice, making his simple command one I couldn’t ignore.

  I stood, slamming the chair back from beneath me, and took my time walking around the table to sit next to him. The wine was left open to breathe on the table. He poured a small portion in a glass for me and set the bottle back on the table. Pinching the stem, he handed it to me.

  “No thank you. I’m not in the mood for a drink.”

  “You believe you have a choice?”

  I plucked the wine glass from his grasp, holding it apart from the table, refusing to drink it. “What is it you want from me? Hasn’t torturing Deana given you what you wanted?”

  He shook his head at me. “Would you like to try this again?”

  I glanced at my empty plate. “Are you going to starve me until I do what you want? You did promise to punish me for running. Is making me sit at dinner with you a part of it?”

  “Do you know the story of the three families who used to run L.A.? They were held together by the same loyalty and respect that used to run rampant in New York. La Cosa Nostra.”

  “I think everyone who cares about that knows what went down and what happened to make them street thugs again,” I snapped.

  “L.A. is different,” he contended. “New generations came up in ranks after the original family members were either murdered or turned disloyal by the government’s successful way of instilling fear and pitting families against each other. It’s been quiet for a reason.

  “Where once cockiness and boldness ran uncontrolled, things have changed with one particular family. The Di Stefanos—they’re smart, using technology, discreet practices, and powerful connections to their advantage. If they keep going as they have, they’ll return the syndicate into something formidable. Not the golden days where bold crimes didn’t have technology to solve. No…it will be something more. Something so powerful not the government, nor any other jealous family, will be able to steal the crown from their sights. On their incline, other families who were relegated to common gang members have heard of their plans and want it to stop. The Leones are the loudest distractors.”