by Ada Stone
Plastering a smile on my face, I plopped down into the seat beside Sal and did my best not to cringe or tense as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, just as I knew he would.
“We’ve been together a long time now, haven’t we, Zoe?” he asked, surprising me. When Sal and I had our conversations, it was generally on a topic that focused solely on him. How was his day? What has he been working on? Who pissed him off? What did they do? Why did they do it? He deserved so much better. This was completely out of left field and for a moment it had me completely caught off guard.
“Um,” I stuttered for a moment. Usually these conversations required less involvement from me. “Yes, we, um, we certainly have.”
He smiled at me, all teeth. He wasn’t an unattractive man, though I personally felt not physical draw to him. It was one of those chemistry things that I had just never been able to fake. It was especially hard because I had been with a man with whom there was passion and fire and chemistry. H had been all consuming and it was hard to go from that to this.
“I think we’ve really gotten to know each other, haven’t we?” he continued, his hand stroking my arm.
I wanted to squirm away from him, but I managed to keep myself right where I was and forced a smile. No, I honestly did not think that we’d gotten to know each other. Sal didn’t know the first thing about me, nothing honest anyway, and he’d been playing some sort of role the entire time with me, so there wasn’t a damn thing honest between us. But that wasn’t the answer Sal wanted to hear, so I nodded my head. “Sure. I think we’ve come a long way.” Far enough that I wasn’t sure if Sal realized that I was still pretending, that I had been pretending all along. Which was more dangerous than I realized, but how could I know?
His smile widened and he pulled me closer. I let him, forced myself to relax against him and even placed a hand on his firm chest, palm flat. I could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm beneath my hand and knew that it was impossible that he felt chemistry with me with a heart that was so steady, so unaffected. I tried not to think it, but I did anyway: Nick’s heart always beat like a jackrabbit when we were together. Too eager, too thrilled, too passionate to be ignored.
“I think so, too,” Sal told me seriously. He used his free hand to grip my chin between his thumb and forefinger so that he could turn my head to look me in the eye. I swallowed harshly and hoped he couldn’t notice. “And I think that, after five years together, we should take things to the next level.”
I couldn’t help it; I froze.
The next level? Surely he didn’t mean… Sucking in a harsh breath, I maintained my smile, but told him, “Sal, dear, you know that I don’t want to…um, well, to take the next step before I’m married. It’s very important to—”
He released my chin and waved that same hand in the air dismissively in front of us. “Don’t be stupid, woman, I remember.” He sounded briefly irritated and I winced.
I worked hard not to irritate him, but this was one of those things that simply could not be helped. I had to stand my ground on this, because I couldn’t give it up. I couldn’t lose this piece of myself, not to Sal. I couldn’t lose the last memory I had of Nick and me together.
Sal sucked in a steadying breath and when he spoke again, he was calm once more. “I remember, my sweetheart. What I am saying is that I think it is important that we take the next logical step to that end.”
I frowned at him in confusion. “What are you suggesting, Sal?”
His grin was wide as he dug into his pants’ pocket, reaching for something buried there. I felt a sudden spike of nervousness in me. What was he doing? What did he mean the next logical step? And to what end?
Sal pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and I froze. Dawning realization swept me. There was no questioning what was in that box and there was no more question as to what Sal was getting at. I wouldn’t sleep with him before marriage. He wanted to sleep with me. He really wanted to sleep with me.
Enough to marry me.
“Zoe Rivers, I am asking you to be my wife. Would you do me the honor?” He opened the velvety box as he popped the question, revealing a diamond the size of a small country. It glinted and glittered and was probably incredibly expensive. There were women across the country who would have swooned at the mere sight of it. But that didn’t matter to me. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I felt disgust roll in my stomach.
No, was my immediate reaction. No, I would not marry Sal Davis. Not for all the money in the world. Not for anything.
But then I met his eyes. His grin was suddenly sinister and I understood with sudden, intense clarity what was really going on.
Sal was proposing because, yes, he wanted to sleep with me. But it was the timing that really tipped me off. On some level, this really was about the sex. Sal wanted nothing more than to have me, he always had, and while I was willing to give him kisses and sometimes groping—though I detested it—I would never give him more, no matter how he pushed. But his reasons for wanting sex from me were…more complex than I would normally give him credit for.
He wanted to sleep with me because, on some level, he thought I was beautiful. Or maybe just sexy or whatever. He saw me as a womanly object to be possessed and thoroughly used. It wasn’t a notion I appreciated, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
There were other reasons, too, though. He wanted to sleep with me because Sal needed control. He didn’t like that I withheld this one thing from him—a rather important thing in his little mind—and that I stood so defiantly against him, unyielding. Sal didn’t like limitations imposed on him and he definitely didn’t like the concept of me having any sort of self-determination.
But the third reason was the one that I hadn’t considered until right now in this moment.
Sal wanted me because I belonged to Nick.
In one week’s time, Nick would be released from prison. Of course I knew that. I had been counting the years, the months, and then finally the weeks. Now I would count the days and the day before his release, I would count the hours until he could come home.
Not to mine, of course, but that didn’t stop a girl form dreaming.
Was it really any sort of coincidence that with only a week to go, Sal was proposing marriage to me? Was it any coincidence that he would marry me and then proceed to fuck me just before Nick was free? I shuddered at the idea
He probably wanted a shotgun wedding, too. Maybe in Vegas or someplace equally as gaudy.
All of these thoughts raced each other through my head and made me angry. Angry enough that I wanted to throttle him, wanted to curse him and spit on him and yell at him that I was a person and had a right to feel whatever I wanted to feel. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t control me and he would never have me.
But with a shock, I realized that I couldn’t.
Nick was still in prison and with only a week to go, I knew that he still wasn’t safe. Not from Sal. But there was more than that. If I said no, then Sal would do something else. Something worse. I didn’t know what it was, but I could feel it like a snake wrapping around my windpipe, threatening to crush it if I said the wrong thing.
And with the despair that only came with this kind of defeat, I realized that I had to say yes. For Nick’s safe and for mine. Sal would never let me go, and it broke my heart, because I could no longer delude myself with notions of running away into the sunset with Nick.
This was my life now. I would never get away from Sal.
Forcing a smile that I was sure he had to know was fake, I breathed out, “Yes.”
If I’d known what was going to happen that night, I would have shoved that ring down his throat. Because we were already in trouble. All of us. Sal was a monster and now he had a gun stuck against my head, holding me in a vicelike grip that I knew from experience I couldn’t break free from.
I struggled to keep my ruined shirt closed, humiliated enough that Sal had seen and groped my bare breasts. Standing across from u
s, I saw Nick. He was so handsome, so brave. He had always been what I’d wanted and some part of my damaged heart soared with the knowledge that he’d come for me. Nick came to rescue me.
At the very least, I would die knowing that he hadn’t left me to this monster.
“Give it to me or I’ll fucking kill her!” Sal screamed at Nick, spittle flying from his wet lips. His face was flushed with anger, I knew, and was probably that ugly, blotchy red that made him look like someone had messed up a paint job pretty badly. “Fucking destroy it!”
I watched as Nick looked torn. Surely he had to know that if Nick did as he was told, it wouldn’t solve anything. It would only leave Sal with all the power and leverage. He wasn’t going to let us walk out of here alive, not a single one of us. I never thought of myself of a martyr and I still didn’t, but I knew that I was dead. There was no getting me out of this one, so why destroy evidence and waste both of our lives?
But as I stared at Nick’s hurt expression, I knew that it didn’t matter. He was going to do the noble thing, because that was the kind of man Nick was.
I shook my head ever so slightly, trying to tell him No silently, but it did no good. He looked at me, his bright eyes meeting my dull ones and I knew in that moment that he would do whatever he could to save me. Despite everything that I’d done to him, he would do this for me, to save me.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m not worth it.”
Sal jerked me against him, shaking me like a ragdoll, yelling at me to shut up, but I never broke my gaze away from Nick and he didn’t either.
“Yes, you are,” he answered me so fiercely that a ripple of pleasure as well as shock rocked through my body. I was still trembling, upset and hurt from the violation I’d received from Sal, and part of me had been sure that I would never be able to feel pleasure again. Yet here I was, suddenly wishing for nothing more than to be wrapped up in Nick’s warm, strong arms. To stroke him and touch him and feel his skin against mine, because that was where home and safety were.
I needed him.
“Zoe, you’re the only thing that’s worth it anymore,” he told me so sincerely that my chest hurt at his words. He gripped the document with both hands and began to twist. “I love you, Zoe Rivers. I always have and I always will.” Then he tore the document clean in half.
My heart swelled and broke at the same time. I watched in horror as Nick sacrificed the only thing he had to use against Sal, the only chance he stood at getting out of here with his life, and felt both incredibly loved and uncharacteristically angry.
You fool, I thought, but couldn’t be as furious as I wanted to be.
Nick loved me. He would always love me. Even if that always would be abruptly cut short in only moments, I took pleasure and solace in that knowledge that at least I had him. Here at the end, he was mine again.
Nick continued to tear up the document until it was scattered into bits and pieces that fluttered to the floor. Soon there was little left of his leverage and I wanted to weep at that fact. How would we get out of here now?
“There’s a good Nicky boy,” Sal said with menace and lingering fury. Sal had always hated Nick and I considered for a moment how much that might have intensified in the moment that Nick told me that he loved me.
Off to the side, I noticed Wildcard move. He was going for something that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I knew without seeing it that it must be a gun. I had wondered where Nick’s had been all this time, but then I realized that of course Sal would have insisted he come unarmed. There was a good chance he’d asked the same of Nick’s men, but I also knew Wildcard. He got his nickname for a reason as he could be crazy and unpredictable. There was a chance that even if Nick had ordered him to do otherwise, Wildcard had brought in a gun. Or at least some kind of weapon.
Unfortunately, since I was easily able to see Wildcard moving, Sal could, too. “Fucking stop moving!” he yelled at Wildcard.
Wildcard didn’t do as he was told, so Sal pressed the gun harder against my forehead, the cold metal biting into my skin and making me whimper. Wildcard froze, glancing over to Nick for orders one way or the other. Nick gave a discreet shake of his head, a very simple command of don’t do anything stupid.
Wildcard gave a much put upon sigh, but made it clear that he would follow orders. This time.
“Why don’t you go ahead and keep going, eh?” Sal told him, his attention on Wildcard rather than either myself or Nick. Nick slowly began to inch towards me and Sal, but was taking care to do it slowly lest Sal get wind of him trying something. “Go ahead,” Sal continued. “Show us what you got, then put it on the ground.”
Wildcard did as he was bid, only because Nick urged him to do so all the while still trying to get closer to me. Sal’s grip didn’t lessen on me and I was aware that it was painful. It was all the worse because my body roiled with disgust at the thought of Sal touching me at all, much less like this when I was so clearly still vulnerable.
Slowly so as not to startle Sal, Wildcard reached behind him again and pulled out the gun that he’d been going for early. At Nick’s pointed look, Wildcard shrugged his shoulders as though to say, Sorry, boss.
“Good, now put it on the ground,” Sal ordered. I felt him relax against me, feeling more confident now that he seemed to have all the cards and all the control.
Wildcard did as he was bid, placing it carefully down on the ground near his feet.
“Kick it away from yourself.” Sal was all but gleeful, like a kid on Christmas morning, as he was obeyed every step of the way. It was making him confident, self-assured, maybe to the point of fault.
I hoped so.
Wildcard hesitated for half a second, and that’s when everything happened. Wildcard kicked the gun not towards Sal, but towards Nick instead. At the same time, he dove towards Sal and me, making sure that Sal’s attention was fully on him. It was enough for Sal to pull the gun away from me and point it towards Wildcard, his incoming opponent. I took the opportunity to jerk out of Sal’s grip while at the same time a shot went off, echoing in my ears until I felt like I was partially deaf.
I stumbled to the ground, my back slamming against the corner of the dresser behind me painfully. I let out a cry, but amongst the commotion, the shot, and the sudden angry yelling, I was sure it was lost. I slid to the ground and then scrambled back as far from Sal as I could until my back hit the wall and I could go no farther.
I looked up to see that Wildcard was on his knees, holding his side and cursing, but at the very least alive. Sal had the gun pointed at him and looked ready to pull the trigger again. But he was so focused on Wildcard that he didn’t see Nick.
The gun Wildcard had kicked skidded across the floor and right into Nick’s waiting hands. He scooped it up and took aim at Sal. Now that I was safely away from him, Nick didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger and Sal gave a loud cry of pain, stumbling back and away from Wildcard.
“Get out of here, Zoe!” Nick ordered me, going for Sal again.
This time, I didn’t freeze when Nick told me to go. Though I was still terrified and things were dangerous—for Nick and for Wildcard—I knew that I wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying here. I had done that before and cost Nick way too much already. Now there was a chance that Wildcard would die—I couldn’t see how badly he was injured or where Sal had hit him—and that Nick could get seriously hurt while engaging with Sal.
No, it was definitely time for me to go.
Clutching at my shirt, I made a mad dash for the door, avoiding the guard who was still on the floor and Wildcard who was kneeling, and definitely making a point to avoid Sal and Nick at all costs. They were both armed and I wouldn’t give Sal the chance to shoot me, or Nick the chance to accidentally catch me instead of Sal.
Ducking around them, I got to the door and slammed headlong into a hard body. I let out a scream of surprise and despair—would I never get out of here?—before two large, strong hands wrapped around me.
“
Easy, honey,” came a familiar voice that sent relief spiraling through me. “We gotcha.”
It was Bobby, Jr. and I was so happy to see him and the gaggle of men who were coming up the stairs behind him, all wearing the jackets that marked them as Heaven’s Wrath, that I sobbed into his chest as I hugged him. He patted me awkwardly, clearly not used to having a woman cry on his shoulder. Then he must have seen what was going on in the room because he abruptly shoved me aside, sending me spiraling into the arms of another one of Heaven’s Wrath.
“Get her out of here!” he ordered as he raced into the room.
I heard a shot ring out as another man—I recognized him, though I didn’t know his name—slipped off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders. I felt better instantly, grateful for more clothing and another barrier between the eyes of men and my poor, abused body.
The shot terrified me, though, and when the same man tried to usher me down the stairs in the opposite direction of the men coming up it, I struggled against him. “No! Nick, I need to see!” I didn’t want to be in anyone’s way, but I needed to know that that shot wasn’t for Nick. That he was still okay. That we were all going to make it out of this alive.