The Debt: An Irish Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 2)

by Cassie Wild

  Finally, I rolled over onto my belly and buried my face under the thin pillow.

  I just wanted to sleep. Sleep until this was all over.

  Sleep until I woke up from this nightmare.

  Even as I thought about it, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. This was all real, and there was no escape from it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brooks

  Too much time had passed since I’d arrived in Cuba. I was hoping to find Daria only to discover Duardo had gotten to her first.

  It had only been a little over a day since he’d gotten his ugly hands on her, and logically, I knew that wasn’t that much time. But every hour Duardo had her under his control was about ninety minutes too long.

  I’d spent most of the previous night at the three of the bigger Miami clubs owned by the Castellanos but hadn’t had any luck.

  I hadn’t gone to bed until nearly three in the morning, and I’d been up by nine, my sleep restless and uncomfortable.

  Once I woke up, I headed back to the tower where Sean and Isabel now lived. Isabel was the one to clear me through to the door this time, and she had told the doorman that I was on the approved visitor’s list.

  He nodded at me, jotted my name down and waved me inside.

  On the elevator ride up, I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. I had to figure out where to go next, who to talk to next.

  It was a weak hope that had me coming here to talk to Isabel. She’d always known her father and brothers ran nightclubs in Miami, but she’d been struck dumb when I told her that all of the clubs were strip joints. I then had to tell her about the suspicions that the women who danced there didn’t always do so willingly.

  I’d left her with that parting knowledge before I left their place yesterday. I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not, but in the end, I didn’t really give a damn.

  As long as she helped me find Isabel.

  One look at her face when she opened the door told me her night hadn’t been any better than mine.

  She had shadows under her eyes, and this was the first time I’d seen her naked. Her face, anyway. She was without a trace of makeup, her hair pulled back into a plain, low ponytail. She wore jeans and a tank top, and her feet were bare.

  Her ragtag appearance made her look terribly young.

  “You didn’t have any luck, did you?” she asked quietly.

  “No. Looks like you didn’t either.”

  She shook her head and turned on her heel. “Come on in, Brooks.”

  I followed her inside and shut the door behind me before trailing after her into the living room.

  She went back to the fat, overstuffed chair she’d used the last time I was there and sank down, curling into the cushions and staring at the floor.

  “Did you talk to your father? Your brothers?”

  She gave me an unhappy look. “Yes. Daddy said it wasn’t my concern and wouldn’t discuss it with me at all. Marcos and Duardo tell me the same thing every time I pester them with questions. It’s not my business, not my concern.” She heaved out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. “I tell them that my best friend is missing, and they just pat me on the head and tell me not to worry.”

  “Did they admit to taking her from my island? Do they have her?” I asked.

  She turned dark eyes toward me. “No. But I think they do. I kept pushing Duardo, and he finally told me that Daria could return to New York, to the school once she’d paid off the debt she owed the family.”

  “I’ll pay the fucking debt,” I told her.

  “I offered to do the same thing.” She gave me a wan smile. “Duardo told me not to be silly.”

  A few seconds later, she shot up from the chair and paced. Her voice was angry as she hissed, “Silly. I worry about my best friend, and they think I’m being silly. It’s like this is all no big deal to them.”

  “That’s because it isn’t,” I told her, my words clipped, my tone short. “This isn’t the first time they’d forced a woman to work for them.” I didn’t mention my other suspicion, about the prostitution that took place in any of the clubs. She’d been dealing with enough, and I had to keep her focused on Daria.

  Isabel eyed me skeptically. “It’s hard enough to accept that they went after Daria. But I heard my father. Now I don’t know what else to believe. But do you really think my brothers are running some sort of…slavery ring in their clubs? Forcing women to dance even if they don’t want to?”

  I heard the doubt in her voice and could see it in her eyes. She didn’t want to believe me.

  “If they took Daria, it only stands to reason they did it because they felt like they could. That kind of confidence comes from experience. This couldn’t be the first time they’d done it.”

  “Damn it!” She turned away from me and covered her ears with her hands. She started to rock in place, as if it hurt to just stand there, hurt to breathe. “I can’t believe my brothers are monsters.”

  “They took Daria, didn’t they?”

  She flinched. “Maybe it’s not what you think. Maybe it’s something different.”

  “Then why won’t Duardo or Marcos talk to you?” I asked calmly.

  She didn’t want my calm, though, or the logic. She turned away and moved back to the soft chair, sinking down on it. “I’ll keep talking to my father, to my brothers. I’ll get answers for this.”

  “You have answers.”

  She shot me a fiery look.

  The front door opened, and we both turned to watch as Sean let himself in.

  He saw me, and I detected a subtle tightening of his jaw.

  I had no idea what that expression might mean, and I didn’t care so long as he didn’t try to get in my way again.

  He studied me for a long moment, then reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I guess you haven’t found her yet,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Shit.” He moved over to the couch without acknowledging Isabel and dropped down, covering his face with his hands and rubbing his cheeks up and down as if trying to soothe an ache. After several repetitions, he dropped his hands once more and sat up, elbows braced on his knees. “I handled the clubs out in the north side. Hit both places there, but I didn’t see Daria.”

  I opened my mouth to question him, but he held up a hand.

  “I didn’t ask about her, no,” he continued. “Chances are she’s dancing under a stage name, and people are starting to recognize me. I didn’t want either of the brothers or Basilio finding out I’ve been asking questions.”

  I understood.

  But as I caught my brother’s eyes, I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  “I’m going to find her,” I said quietly. “There’s no other option for me. I will find her. But if I don’t do it soon, I’ll go to Duardo and get the information I need from him.”

  He gave me a pained look. “You can’t go doing that. You’ll mess up things between me and the brothers. They’re just now starting to warm up to me. I don’t want you fucking that up.”

  “Then we better find Daria,” I told him, my voice hard. “And soon.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daria

  I’d hoped the second night would be easier.

  It wasn’t.

  I’d hoped, then, that maybe the third night would be better.

  It wasn’t.

  I’d just finished my first set and had tucked away in a bathroom stall, trying to control the shakes.

  I’d had the shakes when performing back in Moscow, but nothing like this. Now I felt like I had razor-winged hummingbirds flying around in my belly and no amount of meditation had any impact.

  I’d been able to avoid it the first two nights. Earlier, though, I’d been told I was expected to circulate. I guess that was the same as the mingling Peaches had described to me the first night I was here.

  They’d given me fifteen minutes to cool down and freshen up, and I’d wasted ten of them in the bathroom stall. Forcing my clums
y fingers to cooperate, I let myself out of the stall and moved to the sink.

  I had shadows under my eyes. Peaches was magic with makeup, but nothing could conceal those dark half circles that lay against my cheeks like bruises.

  I looked like shit, to be honest.

  Hopefully, I looked unappealing enough that nobody in the VIP pits would be interested in me.

  I had clearly been expecting too much from the clientele.

  They didn’t even look at my face. They were too focused on my nonexistent breasts and my butt, my legs.

  After one more man palmed my ass and asked me for a private dance, I knew I’d hit my breaking point. I couldn’t handle any more and made a beeline for the door that opened into the back.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw somebody moving my way, and I lengthened my strides, ducking into the hallway just before he would have reached me.

  I hadn’t even looked him full in the face, so I had a fair reason to hope he hadn’t realized I’d been running away from him. From him, from everybody out there, from this entire ordeal.

  I hid away in the bathroom stall again, drawing my legs up every time somebody came in. I managed almost twenty minutes before somebody opened the door and called my name.

  I called back, “I’ll be out in a minute. I was feeling a little sick, but I’m better now.”

  Dragging myself out of there was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

  Another one of those hard things was entering the dressing room, because once I freshened up, it would be time to start my next set.

  Only two more after this, then I could escape and hide for the night.

  I was almost ready to cry once my time was up.

  Every day seemed to just make me more and more depressed. For the first couple of days, I’d hoped Brooks would come for me.

  He had to know I was missing at this point.

  But maybe he felt like he’d done his part.

  It wasn’t like I’d made it easy for him to help me.

  And for all I knew, Brooks could have been involved in this. It turned my stomach to even consider it, but it would explain how Duardo had known where to find me in Cuba.

  Was he the one Isabel was most referring to when she told me to trust nobody?

  Maybe Brooks had just been messing with me so he could sleep with me and he hadn’t ever planned on helping me get out of this mess. Once he got what he wanted, he could have reached out to Duardo and told him where to find me.

  It was possible. Maybe even probable. Brooks hadn’t denied that his family was in the mob. I knew enough to know there was very little the mob wasn’t capable of. Some of the stories I’d heard about things that happened in the Russian mafia, both here and back in Moscow, were enough to turn my stomach.

  I’d spent the first couple of days hoping for a rescue, and it was starting to look like that rescue wasn’t coming.

  I’d have to figure my own way out of this.

  Once in my room, I removed the ridiculous costume and scrubbed my face clear of the hideous makeup, brushing my hair to rid it of the crown of hairspray. When I finally looked in the small mirror, I saw me staring back, not that stranger who’d been there just moments earlier.

  I didn’t have much in the way of clothes, even with what Duardo had provided for me. I was allowed a small percentage of the tips I received, and on Monday, I’d gone to a nearby consignment shop and bought a few things. Now, I at least had something comfortable to sleep in and a few more pairs of jeans and a couple of tops.

  The skinny-strapped tank top I wore now was stretched out of shape and a little too big. However, the yoga pants looked brand new, and for now where the most comfortable clothes I owned. Once I’d changed, I sank down on the bed with my back against the wall.

  It was already close to four in the morning.

  I’d be expected out of bed by eleven.

  If I was smart, I’d get some sleep, but I just sat with my back against the wall, gritty-eyed and exhausted. I was sore to my very bones, and my hands had already blistered from the use of the pole. Tonight, two of the blisters had burst and my palms now burned.

  Tears stung my eyes.

  I blinked them away and tried to make myself think.

  I couldn’t stay here, dancing for them forever while they decided if I’d done my penance.

  Peaches had mentioned off-handedly that she’d been here for two years now, and they expected one more from her.

  She didn’t tell me what she’d done, and I didn’t ask.

  But the thought of spending a year, two years, three years there was more than I could comprehend.

  I had to get out of there.

  There was no other way to put it.

  And I’d have to do it on my own because I couldn’t count on somebody else to ride to my rescue.

  The knock on the door caught me off-guard, and I jumped, adrenaline surging through my system.

  Taking a deep breath, I went to slide off the bed, but the door opened before I even touched my feet to the ground.

  Marcos came inside.

  I’d only met him a couple of times, each one I’d hoped would be the last.

  He had cold, almost reptilian eyes, and he assessed everything and everybody with a predatory air.

  That included me.

  As his eyes locked on me, I had to suppress a shiver. Something told me that if I let him see my fear, that would only make things worse.

  I rose and met his eyes. “Can I help you?”

  The smile he gave me managed to be both amused and cold. His eyes flicked over me, and he reached up to scratch at his chin. “If you’d like some prettier clothes, you can let me know. I can arrange it.”

  I felt even more self-conscious now standing in front of him in my stretched-out tank and form-fitting yoga pants. I wasn’t even wearing a bra. Strange, how something so annoying could suddenly feel like armor.

  I didn’t cross my arms over my chest, though. That would be another sign that he unnerved me.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  He nodded and came inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Isabel tells me you’ve been friends a long time.”

  I offered a slow nod. “Ever since I came to New York. She was the first friend I made.”

  “Lucky you, all alone in this country with no friends and you happen to hook up to the daughter of one of the most powerful families in this country.” His eyes gleamed, suggesting it wasn’t luck at all.

  I had no idea what he could be getting at, though. “I knew nothing about Isabel’s family until I came down here.” I frowned, then shook my head. “I had met your father a couple of times, but that was just to say hello. He took us out to dinner once. That was it.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, drawing closer.

  He didn’t stop until he was just a few steps away. He was using space, or lack of it, to unnerve me. It was working.

  “Did you need something?” I asked, pressing him. I wanted him out of there.

  Out of there and preferably, very far away.

  I didn’t think I would get what I wanted, at least not any time soon.

  Marcos reached up and trailed his finger down my cheek. “You’re a pretty girl, Daria. Had to be hard, coming here all alone, not having anybody.”

  He leaned in, closing up even more of the space between us. Eyes dark and locked on mine, he continued. “I’m wondering if maybe you made…other friends, before you hooked up with Isabel. Maybe even after. Friends who might think that connection between you two could be useful.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you,” I said slowly, truly lost as to what he could possibly mean.

  Marcos flashed a brilliant smile. “Oh, come on now.” If he wasn’t so…creepy, that smile might have done wonderful things for him. As it was, that smile made me think of a predatory wolf, prowling just a few feet away.

  Before I could react, the smile fell away and he shoved his hand into my hair, jerking
my head back.

  “You’re friends with the Downing family, aren’t you?” he demanded.

  My head arched to an impossible angle, I stammered out, “No. Other than Sean, I don’t really even know any of them.”

  Liar, a small voice in my head whispered.

  “Not even Brooks?” He smiled at my flinch. “See, I thought there was a connection between you two.”

  “We kissed at the wedding,” I said, desperate. “That’s all.”

  “And that’s why he is so determined to find you?” Marcos shook his head. “I’m not buying that. Brooks Downing isn’t the kind of man to chase down some whore over a little kiss. How long have you two known each other?”

  “Just since the wedding,” I told him, hating the fear that had worked its way into my voice.

  Amusement lit his eyes, real amusement. He caught my hip and dragged me closer, and I flinched when I felt his erection.

  “I don’t believe you, Daria,” he said, lowering his head, so the words were spoken against my ear. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know…or…”

  He shoved his hand between my thighs, and I jerked against his hold. He was so big, too big and too strong, and he held me in place as he pushed up against me, relentless.

  I whimpered weakly as I felt his fingers probing at the entrance of my vagina.

  “I bet you’re good and tight, pretty little dancer. You talk to me, or I’m going to find out.”

  Rendered mute, I shoved against him hard.

  He budged a little that time, and I renewed my struggles. Somehow, I managed to get free and stumbled a few feet away. When he came for me, I lashed out with my leg, driving my foot into his balls.

  He made a weird, strangled groan and sagged.

  I spun away, rushing for the door. I wasn’t going to let this happen. Not this—

  I didn’t even get the door open.

  Marcos grabbed me from behind, snarling into my ear. “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”

  He bodily hauled me away from the door, then manhandled me down onto the bed. He sneered down at me as he covered my struggling body with his.