I should’ve listened to my gut about Tony, especially the morning he made a play for the code to Brock’s safe. But I was intoxicated by him and his promises.
He was wrong about me, though. It wasn’t power I wanted so much as the power to control my own life. Without Armando and Charles in charge of the operation, it would be a possibility.
Had I known who Tony really was, Brock would be alive, and it would be Tony buried six feet under in some unmarked grave.
But that’s not what happened.
Instead, I’m standing in front of one of the biggest surprises of my life. Fate has a funny way of playing out, and after all the heartache I’ve suffered at Tony’s hands, I will finally have my revenge. Not just on Tony, but also revenge against the man I’ve spent most of my life hating.
The only thing sweeter would be to kill her in front of both of them.
I know it would mean the end of my own life the second after it is done, but it would be worth it. To watch the spark in their eyes die as she struggles to take in a breath, only to fill her lungs with blood.
Fuck, death would be worth it to see it happen. I’d happily relive the moment over and over while burning in hell for my sins.
I don’t understand why, but Charles wants this girl for himself. He hasn’t wanted anyone this way since the day he laid eyes on me. Even after he gave me to Brock for “safe keeping,” he never took another girl. He played with them, I’m sure, but none held the same standing in his life like I did.
But this girl, she rivals even his need for me.
And it hurts because despite all the fucked-up shit, I’ve always been attuned to him. Because the truth of it all is, I was never safe with Brock. Not even in my wildest dreams, as much as I wanted to believe I was. It would only take one command to ruin everything. One command from him, and I would find myself seated at his feet on my knees, waiting like a lost puppy, desperate for her master’s attention.
As much as I hated the man, I loved him a hundred times more. As much as I wanted him dead, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. It never got easier as time went on. The bond was always this strong no matter what I did.
He made me what I am.
He gave me life.
And only he can take it away.
“I didn’t,” I tell her and step closer to the glass. I hate that there is this barrier keeping her protected from me. But I’m sure Charles knew once I found out who she really is, she wouldn’t be safe from me. And he was right to assume it. I want to claw her eyes out and wear them as trophy earrings. “If I had, you wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“You can still do the right thing, Mirabelle. You can let me go.” It’s right now that I see it, the spark of hope flickering inside of her. She thinks because we’ve both been his victim, we can bond over it and I will help her escape. The idea is hilarious, and I can’t help the laughter that pours out of me.
“No, sweetie,” I tell her breathlessly, narrowing my eyes on her. “You wouldn’t have made it this far because I would have killed you first.”
She steps back, and for the first time since I walked into the room, I see fear. The hope fades, and her instinct to survive kicks up a notch. She’s finally understanding that I am a danger to her.
“Then why don’t you kill me now?”
“I will, eventually.” I run my finger along the glass as I pace along it, like a cat stalking its prey. She tilts her head and studies me.
“You can’t get in here, can you?”
The question does something to me on the inside, and I stop and turn to face her. She walks forward and reaches up to touch the glass between us. She’s afraid of me still, but she’s also grateful to be behind the glass. I slam my hands against it, wanting to scare her, and she stumbles back, wild-eyed, once again fearful.
But the glass is shatterproof, and the only way into the room lies with Charles.
Chapter 43
Penelope
Miguel is Charles.
Charles is Miguel.
One and the same, he is still my worst nightmare. And I am his prisoner.
I stare through the glass wall at Mirabelle and can’t help feeling sorry for her. I don’t know how she got involved with the monster who controls both of our lives, but I have a feeling she is another one of his victims. Only the hold he has over her has shaped her into the monster she is.
I know without a doubt that she wants to kill me. Just as I know she can’t get through that glass or into this room. Miguel made sure of it.
For me to be free of him, I need her help, and even knowing she hates me and wants me dead, I have no other options.
Miguel will never let me go, and he’ll never give me the option to escape. Mirabelle is all the hope I have. Even if my life hangs in the balance, it’s a chance I have to take.
Damien doesn’t know where I am, and he’ll be pissed to find out Miguel and Mirabelle are both alive and well. I have to survive this. I have to get away and warn him.
“You’ll never get the chance as long as he is alive.” I turn my back on her and walk toward the mattress on the floor. I take my time straightening the blankets before sitting down and tucking my legs under my chin to stare back at her.
There isn’t a whole lot of light, so I can’t make out the look on her face from this far, but I’m hoping my nonchalant attitude is pissing her off. I want her to believe I think I’m safe all because of Miguel. He is the only thing standing inbetween her and me, not some shatterproof glass and a locked door.
“If I wanted, I bet I could make him send you away. Do you think he would trade you for me?” I ask only to prey on her insecurities. She hates Miguel almost as much as I do, but there is a deeper bond between the two of them. How long has she been his victim?
“He would never do that. I’m his most loyal pet.”
“Like a dog? We had one of those once. He took it out back and shot it.” I hate goading her like this, but I can’t help it. It’s the only way to break down her defenses.
She flinches, but her eyes never leave me, and I know if it weren’t for the glass separating us, I would be dead already.
“You don’t know him,” she tells me in a calculated voice and shakes her head. The way her body shakes, it’s almost like she’s barely holding on.
If I keep pushing, will she snap?
“I know him, Mirabelle. Almost as well as you do. Tell me, when did you become his? How old were you?” I stare back at her, but she doesn’t react. “He’s been part of my existence since I was a year old. Do you know how old I am now? I bet you do, and if you do the math—”
“You. Do. Not. Know. Him,” she seethes, and I know in this moment that I have her exactly where I want her.
“The mole on his inner left thigh; it is shaped like the state of Florida.” She flinches again. This time, her stare wavers. “And when he comes, he makes this gurgling sound in the back of his throat, like he’s about to fall into a coughing fit.” Another direct hit. She mewls before her legs give out and she falls softly to the ground. “You want me to believe we have nothing in common, that we are nothing alike, but believing that is believing a lie. I’m not his pet. I’m not even his daughter. My mother gave birth to me long before he enterd our lives. I’m one of his victims. He may not have fucked me, Mirabelle, thank God, but don’t kid yourself. You’re no more special than the toilet he takes his morning shits in.”
She closes her eyes, opens her mouth, and emits a long and loud gut-wrenching wail. My heart cracks, but I hold my demeanor because at this point, when her world is crumbling around her, I need to show strength. For both of us.
“Now is the time, Mirabelle, to take back what he took from you all those years ago.” I stand and walk toward her. When I reach the glass, I slide down to her level and place my hand on the glass. She reaches her hand out, too, placing it directly in front of mine. We sit palm to palm, separated by a pane of glass. Worlds apart but a lifetime together.
“I can’t,” she says and looks up at me. Her emerald eyes are the lightest I’ve ever seen them, and as the tears slide down her cheeks, I wish I weren’t the one forcing her to confront her darkest demon tonight. “He’s too strong.”
“You’re stronger.”
“I’ve tried,” she admits, and her body trembles. “He always wins.”
“So, don’t let him.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“The gun,” I whisper, knowing she can hear me and he can, too, if he is listening in. “Where is it?”
“In the safe.”
“Is it a key or code?” If it’s a key, we’re screwed. I doubt Miguel would let a key out of his sight. A code on the other hand…
“It’s a code. Six digits.” My heart soars, and hope blossoms, but I do my best to keep it hidden.
“Do you know it?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know I do,” she admits. The change in her whole demeanor is strange. This version of Mirabelle is almost likable, and if I didn’t know about the things she has done, I’d want to be her friend.
“Well, there you go,” I offer, sitting up straight. Our hands hold steady on the glass, like we are somehow connected through it.
“You want me to shoot him?”
“I want you to be free of him.”
“We both will be,” she states, wiping away the last of her tears. I nod and swallow. It’s true, but there’s no telling what state Mirabelle will be in once he is gone from our lives. Will she still be hell-bent on killing me, or will she finally be free of everything keeping her a victim, too? His existence keeps her from harming me, but this is a chance I must take.
“Where is he?”
“He was upstairs. I’m supposed to ready you for him, but he’s still healing from the injury he got during the raid. He sleeps a lot, and he’s a light sleeper…” she trails off.
“I know. Will he come looking for you?”
“No, there’s no need. He has cameras installed throughout the building.” She looks up, and I see the red blinking light of an almost hidden camera. “It streams to his laptop.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t take the chance.” I swallow, feeling a new round of nerves hit me. He could be watching now. But this could be the only shot I get at escape. Pretending like I care for her, I press my hand harder into the glass. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She nods, but there’s a new determination in her eyes, fueled by the promise of freedom and a world without him in it.
“No, you’re right.” She shifts and pulls her hand away from the glass, breaking our connection. My heart skips a beat and begins to pound hard in my chest. It feels so loud, I wonder if she can hear it. “I have to do it. We’ll never be free of him if I don’t. He doesn’t deserve to live another day.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.” I shiver as a feeling of dread settles in my chest. She’s too easygoing about what I’m asking her to do. “Have you ever…”
“Not on purpose,” she answers without hesitation. It’s like she knew the question before I gathered the nerve to ask it. I find her answer unsettling. “The girls never last for long. My demands and boundaries are far too great for them to handle. Well, all but one. Svetlana, the ugly bitch, handled everything I gave her and more. But like all the rest, she eventually broke.”
I try not to react, but I can’t help the gasp that slips from my lips. Svetlana was the woman Damien convinced her to take that first night.
Mirabelle takes a step back, ready to take on the devil upstairs. I close my mouth, watching as she stops momentarily at the door. She turns to me with a gleam in her eyes, and I know I’m in for a fight at the end of all of this.
“It’s a shame we’ll never know if you would’ve been able to handle me.” She smiles sardonically before continuing. “Although seeing you broken would have been a glorious moment.”
She turns away quickly and leaves the room.
I swallow hard, trying to shake off the sick feeling she’s left me with. Is she trying to get a rise out of me? Or was she trying to tell me something?
Either way, it didn’t sound good.
I close my eyes, pushing away the emotions her words put in my body. If I have to fight her for my life after all of this, so be it.
As long as she keeps her word and rids us both of Miguel.
Chapter 44
Damien
The second I step into the large conference room, I’m a force to be reckoned with. I don’t care who these men are or what they mean to me right now. I can’t. Not when the only good piece of my life is missing and in the hands of monsters.
“I want everything we can pull up on Charles and Mirabelle, and I want it yesterday,” I demand and ignore the way everyone’s eyes look at me with sadness. Fuck sadness. I don’t have time for it.
“You sure it’s them?” King asks, placing the phone he was speaking into moments ago onto the cradle.
“I called McNamara.” I turn and face him, feeling a surge of white-hot anger. “Did you know?”
“No, but I was informed of it shortly after your conversation with Mac.” He stands from his place and crosses to me. “I just put a call in with his commanding officer. He wasn’t too happy with what I learned. Apparently, Mac hadn’t told anyone about this.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I scoff. “It’s bullshit, and you know it. The shit has hit the fan, and someone has to take the blame. That person is Mac.”
“You’re probably right, but he should have told us what was suspected—”
“Fuck him, and fuck the assholes who didn’t do their jobs better and protect her,” I level, needing to focus on more important things. “Sneak, you got anything I don’t already know about this asshole?”
“Nah, man, I haven’t been able to find anything new. There is, however, a period of time for which no one has any record of him, and as far as I can tell, no one did anything to figure out why that is. I have a feeling we solve that little blip, and the rest of the puzzle pieces will fall into place.”
“Go with that, dig in, see what you can get from it. Call in whatever favors you can, I don’t care, just get me something I can use.”
The group of men surrounding me, men I call my brothers because of the blood we’ve spilled and bled together, each one of them nods his head. Granting me the unspoken promise of our bond.
And for a brief moment, I feel a small sparkle of hope bloom in the middle of the darkness circling me.
We will find her.
We will save her.
*****
“Diz, man, you’re going to make yourself crazy. We will find her,” Rafe tries his best to assure me for the tenth time in the last thirty minutes, but I’m beyond consoling at this point. I need answers, and I need them now. Rafe has no idea what I’m going through, and if we don’t catch a lead soon, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“We better,” I growl, pacing the large conference room. The entire situation is all too surreal and familiar. First Hudson, then Kingston, now me. Why the fuck does the world feel the need to fuck with our women?
“I’ve got a call in with my contact, but McNamara fucked this one up,” he explains, but I already knew that. I knew it the moment I confirmed Penny was missing. This entire thing could have been avoided, but McNamara’s ego got in the way.
“Trust me, he’s going to get what’s coming to him,” I murmur, feeling more and more like the man I was before all the darkness settled into my life. It’s amazing what this woman has done to me. If it hadn’t been for her, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d still be lost amongst the shadow of my former self.
“No, Diz, you don’t get it. Sneak was right to question that blip he found. Charles isn’t the man you think he is.” His words strike me where it counts, and everything around me stops. I narrow my gaze on him.
“What the fuck are you getting at, Rafferty?”
“Everyone had it wrong,” he continue
s and turns the laptop in front of him to face me. A picture of Charles stares back at me. “Charles isn’t the fancy aristocrat they profiled when all this shit started. He’s a nobody from nowhere who changed it all with the right connections.”
“I don’t need a fucking story, man. Get to the point,” I interrupt, feeling more and more like I’m going to jump out of my own skin.
“You’re saying Charles Pullman is a cover? For who?”
“Nah, man, he’s a fucking ghost,” Sneak interjects, reminding me all the others in the room. Rafe shakes his head.
“Not what I would call him. Ghost status is nothing compared to who this man really is.” Rafe claps and leans forward in his seat. He reaches around the laptop and hits a key. Another photo of Charles once again stares back at me, but this time, he’s much younger and lacking the finer clothing I’ve seen him wearing. “What did you say Penny’s stepfather’s name was?”
“Miguel Ruiz,” I say, feeling the air leave my lungs with a whoosh when my eyes catch the name in white bold letters next to the photo.
Miguel Ruiz.
My stomach drops, and I feel instantly sick.
How the fuck did we miss this?
“Something didn’t sit right about this guy, so I had a friend of mine start digging, and he found shit no one had ever linked to Charles. It seems like someone on the inside might have been protecting him and hiding impertinent information to the case against him. Mostly things about his past and how he got started in the business. The same information that became available after his reported death. Important information connecting him to your girl and the life she led back home.”
“Your wife’s stepfather sold her off into the world of human trafficking, only to buy her back a few months later.”
“Only he didn’t know. He had no idea because he never saw the papers on the girls.”
“No?”
“It was Armando’s deal, and he didn’t want to spoil the surprise. We never sent Charles any details about the shipment.”
“You sure about that?”
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