ONCE MEATHEAD HAD LEFT, it hadn’t taken me long to free my other hand from the pipe, though all I’d achieved since un-taping myself was being able to move more freely around my prison.
The first thing I’d done was check the door. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest to discover it was locked. Meathead didn’t look as though he relied too heavily on his brains, but locking a door was ‘keeping a prisoner 101’. There wasn’t even a handle, which told me the room could only be opened from the other side. This was definitely a room where the Capellos put someone when they wanted to forget about them.
I’d long since finished the pizza I’d been brought, but I’d made the water last a little longer. I had no idea when, or if, someone would bring me more. They might not want me to die down here, but I was sure they didn’t care if I went through a fair amount of suffering.
In the dark, with nothing to do except wait, I discovered it was impossible to tell the passing of time. I lay down on the cold floor and made a pillow out of my arms and dozed a while. The sense of both not knowing how much time passed while I slept, and the possibility of someone coming in here and doing something to me, made it hard for me to fall into a full sleep, however. I hovered on the brink of sleep and wakefulness until I eventually gave up and got back to my feet.
There had to be a way out of here.
I turned my attention back to the door.
I’d have normally expected a cellar door to be made from wood, but I assumed this was some kind of composite—almost indestructible.
With no handle to use, I ran my fingers around the edges of the frame, trying to find a crack I could use to perhaps loosen it, but there was nothing I could get a hold of. Instead, I took a couple of steps back, barreled my shoulder, and slammed my body against the door.
It was like running into rock. The impact sent pain jarring through me, and immediately the throbbing in my head from where I’d been hit started up afresh.
Shit.
The door didn’t feel as though it was going to open anytime soon.
I couldn’t just give up. Though I couldn’t see anything, there might be something in here that would be of use, or maybe another exit I hadn’t found yet. There was oxygen in this room, so it couldn’t be completely sealed off. There must be a vent somewhere, perhaps positioned up higher in the walls.
I took my time—it was something I suddenly found myself with plenty of—and placed my palms flat against the cold stone wall. Working slowly and methodically, I patted across the wall, and then down and back across again. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find, if anything, but it was better than just sitting there, waiting for one of the Capellos to decide what to do with me.
I hadn’t decided for sure what way to play this. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could fight and try to escape, or I could try to get on the side of the Capellos. Actually, I had three choices, but the third one was to sit around and wait for them to decide what to do with me, and I’d already ruled that out. Once Rue had testified against Joe Nettie, what use would they have of me? For Rue, they would most likely sell her on, or keep her for themselves, but what were the chances of them releasing me?
That they still had Rue put a dampener on the idea of escaping. What if they hurt her to punish me? My mind whirred. I couldn’t have that.
But what if you’re in the same building as she is? What if you could escape and take her with you?
That would be a perfect situation, but I wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would be that simple. I was unarmed, and I didn’t know where she was. Managing to escape and stumbling across her at the same time would be nothing short of a miracle.
I needed to figure out a way to make myself useful to the Capellos again, but they most likely wouldn’t believe a single word I said.
Lost in thought, I kept going, feeling my way around the inside wall of my prison.
My fingers touched metal, and I paused.
It was positioned high on the wall. A grate of some variety. I licked my finger and held it up. A coolness wafted past my damp skin. Definitely ventilation. Did it lead to the outside?
I hated being in the dark. I blinked against the blackness, but it did no good. I felt around, trying to get an idea of how big the vent was. Not huge. Big enough for a child, or a woman with Rue’s build to get through, perhaps, but certainly not me.
“Fuck it.”
My voice sounded too loud in the darkness.
I wasn’t done yet. I kept going, searching every inch. When I got to the pipes I’d been tied to, I checked around and behind them. I didn’t know what I was hoping for—some clever person secreting a gun away for a lucky prisoner to find, perhaps— but there was nothing.
“Shit.”
With nothing else to do, I let out a sigh and sat back down on the cold floor, my back pressed up against the wall.
I had no option but to wait.
Chapter Nine
Kodee
I WAS WORRIED ABOUT Ryan.
The sex and the meds had helped him a little, but not as much as normal. It was easy to see how much pain he was in, though he was doing his best to hide it from me.
“Jesus, Ryan,” I said to him eventually. I’d caught him sitting on the bed, rocking back and forth and groaning. “You can’t go on like this. You need to go and see your specialist. Weren’t you due to have a new prosthesis soon? Wasn’t that the whole reason Dillon had gotten involved with the Capello brothers in the first place—because he’d wanted to use the money to get you a new leg?”
Ryan’s jaw was rigid, a sharp profile. “Yes, but he never actually got the money, did he? We got Rue instead.”
“But you’re still due a new limb, aren’t you? We’ll find the money from somewhere. Hell, we’ll sell this place if we have to.”
“No, we won’t. This is our home.”
“It’s just four walls and a roof. They don’t matter, so long as you’re okay.”
Ryan didn’t look at me, his fists clenched by his sides. “What if we leave and then Frankie Capello comes here with a job he needs us to do, or news on Rue?”
“We won’t be long, and he can wait. This is important.”
He lifted his gaze to mine. “More important than Rue’s or Dillon’s safety?”
“You’re as important to me as they are.”
He shook his head. “I hate being a burden on you.”
“Hey.” I cupped Ryan’s face, pulling his eyes back to mine. “You’re never a burden. Never. Got it?”
Reluctantly, he nodded.
“Now, let’s get you down to your specialist and see what he suggests.”
“Okay, but I can’t tell him the truth about what we did. I’m going to have to come up with a story.”
“Will he believe that you overdid it in the gym?”
Ryan shrugged. “Probably not, but that would make the most sense.”
“Let’s try that, then.”
I grabbed my jacket and got Ryan’s coat as well. It was getting cooler now. We no longer had any form of transport. Dillon’s bike was still in the garage beneath the building, but neither of us knew how to ride it. I wasn’t about to risk further injury to Ryan’s leg by attempting it, either.
We left the apartment and exited the building through the lobby and stepped out onto the street. Ryan’s limp was pronounced. I wanted to offer him my help, put my arm around his waist so he could lean on me for support, but I knew how proud he was.
I looked around for a cab, ready to flag down the first one I saw.
I spotted a yellow vehicle, its light on. The driver must have noticed me, as he signaled to pull over.
“Here we go,” I told Ryan, placing my hand against his lower back to guide him forward.
From seemingly out of nowhere, our path was suddenly blocked by two other men.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” one of them demanded.
My heart sank.
Shit. Capello’s men. I’d had my
suspicions that Frankie Capello wasn’t going to just let us go about our normal lives. He’d assume we’d most likely do something to get Rue back—even with him holding Dillon as insurance—and would make sure he had eyes on us.
“We’re going to the doctor.” I didn’t think the person we saw was technically a doctor, but I wasn’t about to start getting in the semantics of it. “Ryan’s amputation isn’t looking good.”
The bigger of the two men frowned. “Amputation? What amputation?”
Ryan spoke up. “My leg. I lost it in the war.”
The expression on the man’s face changed, softening with surprise and sympathy. “Ah, shit, man. That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “You can say that again.”
“Good thing you made it back, though. Plenty don’t.”
The man seemed to have a newfound respect for Ryan upon learning this detail.
“You don’t need a cab,” the other guy said. “We’ll drive you down there.”
“Why?” I asked. “So you can make sure we’re going where we say we are?”
He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job, but yeah, if it kills two birds, why the hell not?”
He had a point. I glanced over at Ryan, who shrugged. These men would be following us anyway. We might as well let them be our chauffeurs. Besides, the taxi I’d flagged down had already given up on us and driven away in search of different passengers.
I nodded. “Let’s go, then.”
They led us over to where their car was parked across the street—a black SUV with tinted windows in the rear.
“Subtle,” I commented, and I noticed Ryan hold back a smirk.
The big guy cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want a ride, or don’t you?”
“Yeah, we do,” Ryan said.
I opened the back door, and we climbed inside, then Ryan gave them the address of his prosthetist’s office downtown.
As we drove, I resisted the urge to make small talk along the lines of ‘so, how long have you been working for that bunch of people-trafficking sons-of-bitches,’ but I managed to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to ask after Rue as well, see if they’d come across her, or if they knew where Dillon was being held, but I knew they wouldn’t tell us anything. Their alliance was with the Capello brothers, and they weren’t stupid enough to do anything to cross them. Doing so could land them a bullet in the head.
We pulled into the parking lot of the office, and I opened the door to climb out.
“We’ll wait for you here,” the bigger of the two guys said. I hadn’t bothered to ask his name. We weren’t friends. “Don’t try anything stupid, like leaving through another entrance. Remember we have your friend and zero mercy.”
Yep. These guys definitely weren’t our buddies.
“We’re here for the leg, that’s all.”
That probably sounded darker than I’d intended.
I helped Ryan out of the car, and we walked across the parking lot toward the building.
“Well, that was interesting,” Ryan commented when we got far enough away for them to no longer be able to hear us.
“The Capellos clearly don’t trust us.”
“Can’t say I blame them. They did leave Rue under our protection, and we grabbed her and tried to leave the country.”
“Good point.”
Together, we entered the building.
“Hopefully, he’ll be able to see me,” Ryan said as he headed to the reception desk. Other people sat around the waiting room.
I stayed back, giving Ryan space to explain to the middle-aged woman behind the desk that it was an emergency and to see if he could be squeezed in for an appointment. She frowned but turned her attention to her computer. After a moment, she picked up the phone and placed a call. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but finally she put the phone down, and gestured for Ryan to take a seat.
Ryan gave me a nod, and I joined him. We sat side by side with all the other people waiting to be seen.
I wanted to take Ryan’s hand, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate the extra attention that might get us.
Eventually, a man in his forties, in a shirt and tie, emerged from one of the rooms. Both his shoulders and his gut strained against the material of the shirt, as though he might burst out of it, Incredible Hulk style, at any moment. He spotted Ryan and lifted a hand to signal him.
“That’s our guy,” Ryan said, and I helped him stand.
“Hello, Ryan,” the prosthetist said. “Come on through. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
The man’s gaze flicked to me, questions in his eyes.
“This is a friend of mine, Kodee,” Ryan introduced.
The prosthetist put his hand out to me. “Gordon Little. Good to make your acquaintance.”
I shook it. “Yours, too.”
We followed him to his office, and he gestured for us both to take a seat. Ryan got to work, unstrapping his leg and removing the sleeve with the pin attached.
Gordon dropped to one knee in front of him and proceeded to inspect the stump.
He sucked air in over his teeth. “What have you been doing, Ryan? The swelling is pronounced, and those few sore areas we spoke about last time are far worse. I thought I told you to rest it.”
Ryan shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry. Certain... situations... didn’t allow me to.”
“You’re going to need to not wear your prosthetic for a while. I did warn you that not resting might mean you’d end up back in a wheelchair.”
Ryan’s lips thinned, and he shook his head. “No, I can’t be back in the wheelchair.”
“You’re lucky you’re not back in the hospital. You know any infection might spread, even to the point where you might have to have more of the leg amputated.”
Gordon’s words shocked me. Further amputation? How would Ryan cope with that when he didn’t even want to be in a wheelchair? I wasn’t sure he’d get through it, especially considering our current situation. What would he have to keep him going? I felt sure I’d lose him to depression and PTSD.
“Ryan,” I tried, keeping my voice calm, “if you need to go back in a chair for a while, there’s no shame in it. Surely, that’s better than if you end up in hospital for more surgeries.”
Ryan put his head in his hands and exhaled a long, deep sigh, but he nodded. “Okay, fine.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Gordon said. “I know it isn’t what you wanted, but I’m afraid it’s what needs to happen. Did you think any more about the newer version of your prosthetic? The one we discussed last time? I know the cost is an issue, but it would get you back on your feet quicker.”
“Do it,” I said immediately. “Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll make sure it gets paid for.”
“Kodee,” Ryan protested.
But I lifted my hand to silence him. “We need to start making some good choices.”
His eyes slipped shut, and he shook his head again. “Does it even matter? It’s not like we know our future. We might not even have one.”
I sensed Gordon Little looking between us, trying to decipher our conversation. There was a slight frown across his forehead and concern in his eyes. Did he wonder what the relationship was between us? And if so, did he wonder who the man was Ryan had come in here with last time? He didn’t ask any questions, so I guessed he figured it was none of his business.
“Your friend here is right,” Gordon agreed. “If you can find the money, it’s your best option in the long run.”
“Okay,” Ryan relented. “I guess we’re doing it, then.” He reached for his current prosthetic, but Gordon put his hand on it.
“Uh-huh. You’re not putting that back on. I’m afraid you’re being wheeled out of here.”
Ryan lifted both eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.”
Gordon picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. A moment later, a knock came at the door, and two female staff members entered, one pushing a wheelchair and the
other carrying clean dressing Ryan scowled at the chair as though it was the devil.
We waited while the nurse cleaned and dressed Ryan’s stump, and then turned our attention to the chair.
“Come on, Ryan,” I encouraged him. “It’s for the best.” I moved to help him from the seat to the wheelchair, but he threw me a glare filled with derision, and I halted, and clamped my mouth shut, figuring it was probably best to stay quiet. Ryan might be in a wheelchair now, but I wouldn’t put him past throwing a mean punch if he needed, and the chair meant he was at balls height.
All his upper body work meant he was strong enough to haul himself from the seat into the wheelchair, and he settled back into it, still looking royally pissed.
“I’ve got your measurements from last time,” Gordon said, addressing Ryan. “I won’t take them again, because we both know this isn’t how your stump normally looks. I’ll send the ones I have on file off to the manufacturer and let you know when they come in.”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I said.
Gordon offered me a smile. “No problem.”
I stepped to the wheelchair, intending to push it, but Ryan was already wheeling himself toward the door before I even reached him.
CAPELLO’S MEN WERE still waiting outside. One was leaning up against the front of their vehicle, smoking a cigarette. He noticed us approaching and threw the cigarette down and ground it beneath his dress shoe.
“You took your time.” He frowned at the wheelchair. “How the fuck are we supposed to get that in the car?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “It folds down.”
Ryan hated me helping him, but for once, he had no choice. The SUV sat too high off the ground for him to get in by himself. He swung his arm around my neck and allowed me to help him onto the back seat of the car. I folded down the chair to put in the back then climbed in next to him.
“I guess we won’t need to worry about you two running off anywhere,” the driver joked.
“Har har,” Ryan deadpanned back at him.
I thought the driver was lucky one of us didn’t punch him in the back of the head, but then they were, I assumed, armed, and the best we’d be able to manage was hitting one of them with the prosthetic leg Ryan was no longer able to wear.
Captivated with Them (Dirty Twisted Love, #3) Page 5