Captivated with Them (Dirty Twisted Love, #3)

by Farrar, Marissa

  We were driven back to the apartment. At the front of our building, I unloaded the wheelchair then helped Ryan into it. Despite his disability, he was physically strong, and he needed my support more for balance than anything else.

  “I assume we’ll see you two around,” I said to Capello’s men.

  The bigger guy threw me a salute. “Sure will. Frankie wants to be certain neither of you is going to cause any more problems before the trial.”

  I gestured to Ryan’s chair. “Well, you can relax now, ’cause clearly we’re not going to be getting up to much.”

  We left them standing on the street. Ryan wheeled himself through the building to the elevator. We caught it up to our floor and continued to the apartment.

  His room was already laid out to allow him to make use of it while he was in the wheelchair. The doors were a fraction wider, and his bathroom was a wet room. The rest of the apartment was open plan, and though I would need to help him into the office when it came time for us to work, he could otherwise be fairly self-sufficient. I knew he still hated it.

  “How’s the pain?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Bearable. Just about.”

  I figured that was about as good as it got. “We knew this might happen when we talked about attempting the crossing,” I told him. “And it’s better that you spend a week in the wheelchair than you spend months in the hospital rehabbing from another operation.”

  He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I just can’t help thinking how fucking useless I am. We should be figuring out a way to free Rue and Dillon, not screwing around with my leg.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Screwing around?”

  He gestured to the stump, where there was normally a sleeve with a pin to hold on the leg. “Screwing around? Get it?”

  I smirked. “Good to see you haven’t completely lost your sense of humor.”

  “I thought I had to have one in the first place before I could lose it.”

  My smirk turned into a grin. “Good point.”

  “So, what now?” Ryan asked.

  “We wait to hear from Frankie Capello. He’s going to want something from us soon. When he does, we ask for proof of Dillon’s and Rue’s safety.”

  “And you think he’s going to give it to us?”

  “If they’re both okay, he’s got no reason not to.”

  He pressed his lips together and gestured to the chair. “I guess you’re right. It’s not as though I’m going to pose much danger to them like this.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “Sometimes it’s those we suspect the least who prove to be the biggest threat.”

  Chapter Ten

  Rue

  I COULD TELL FRANKIE was pissed at being made to leave the D.A.’s office.

  Ever since we left the courthouse, he’d been short with me, his fingers digging hard into my skin as he dragged me from the building and shoved me back into the waiting car.

  He insisted I tell him, word for word, what had been said during my meeting with Caroline Simpson, and so I told him. I had nothing to hide, but I still felt as though I’d done something wrong. He hadn’t liked that she’d told him to leave the office, even though it was in the best interest of the case. I wondered if he was more pissed off that he’d been told what to do, or that he’d been told what to do by a woman.

  We reached the house and drove through the gates to the front door.

  My stomach gurgled audibly, and I put my arms around my middle, my face heating at my body’s natural responses. I hadn’t eaten anything so far that day, and I regretted turning down the offer of coffee from the lawyer. I should have made the most of it, but I’d been too nervous to think about stomaching anything.

  Frankie frowned at me then checked his watch. “You can go through to the pantry. The others will be eating in there.”

  I ducked my head in a nod. “Thank you.”

  I shouldn’t really be thanking him for allowing me to eat—something he took for granted—but in the mood he was in, I wouldn’t have put it past him to let me starve for the rest of the day.

  We left Frankie dealing with some other business, and my minder, Otis, ushered me into the house. He took me to the east wing, where the kitchen, boot-room, and pantry were located. Our rooms and the rooms of some of the other staff were situated above.

  I was surprised to see the two other girls, Skye and May, already sitting around the small table in the pantry. This room was nothing like the orangery. It was poky and dimly lit, but I was pleased to see both the other women and the meal of bread, cheese, and meats that had been pre-sliced and laid out for us. There was no sign of any knives with which to cut the food. I assumed we weren’t trusted with them, and rightly so.

  The other woman peeped up at me as I took a spare seat. They clocked my smart outfit, and I recognized the questions in their eyes. I couldn’t tell them anything, though. It was safer for them if they didn’t know the full story.

  I reached out for some bread and cheese and chomped down. I was starving, and I couldn’t eat quickly enough, swallowing before I had the chance to chew it properly. I forced myself to slow down. I wasn’t going to do anyone any good if I choked to death on a lump of half-chewed bread.

  Otis and one of Frankie’s other men were hanging around, keeping an eye on us, but they were chatting with each other and didn’t seem particularly interested in what we were doing.

  When I’d eaten a fair chunk of food, I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Are you two okay?”

  They exchanged a glance, and Skye nodded. “Yeah, no one’s laid a hand on us since the other night, thanks to you.”

  May ducked her head and whispered. “What’s going to happen to us?”

  I twisted my lips. “I don’t know, exactly.”

  “I heard one of the men talking,” Skye said. “They said we’re going to be taken out of the country.”

  May kept her voice down. “But how are they going to do that? Are we going to end up in the back of a truck or something?”

  I could only tell them what I knew. “They have people who will make counterfeit passports for them. That’s how they’ll move you around.”

  It felt like a betrayal to Kodee and the others by telling them, but I couldn’t keep it to myself.

  Skye frowned. “So, we’ll go on an airplane, just like everyone else?”

  Hope lit May’s features. “We might be able to find someone who’ll help us.”

  I didn’t want to dampen her spirits, but it was better they be prepared for the reality of what their future might hold. “You won’t be alone. There will be men with you the whole way.”

  “But surely if we start screaming and begging for help, someone will have to pay attention to us?”

  “I expect they’ll already have that possibility covered. They will probably say you have mental health issues. They may even have a doctor’s note to prove it.” I shrugged. “I’m just guessing, of course, but I’ve been around these kinds of men long enough to know how they work.”

  Skye’s eyes widened. “How long have you been living like this?”

  I shrugged, my face warming, suddenly embarrassed. I found myself staring down at the table, not wanting to meet the other woman’s gaze. “My whole adult life, and a good chunk of my childhood, too. Basically, as long as I can remember.”

  May’s mouth had dropped open. “Oh, my God. That’s going to be—”

  “Hey, you three! Enough of the chatter. Stop talking!”

  Otis had finally noticed us.

  Our body language was all identical, each of us cowering at the sharp words, clamping our lips shut, not making eye contact. We might still harbor hope in our hearts, but there was no denying that we were still owned women.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kodee

  THE PHONE RANG FIRST thing in the morning, and I hurried to answer it. Any call might bring news about either Rue or Dillon, and I didn’t want to miss it. Ryan wheeled himself out o
f the bedroom after me and sat waiting and watching intently.

  I pressed the phone to my ear. “Yes?”

  I recognized Frankie’s New York accent immediately.

  “We have our first job for you. We need passports for two girls.”

  I’d already prepared myself for this moment. He wanted something from us, but I wanted something from him. “First, we need to see Rue and Dillon. I want to know they’re alive and safe.”

  I looked up and caught Ryan’s eye, and he nodded to show he agreed with what I was doing.

  “You’re not in any position to be asking for favors,” Frankie growled.

  I held my nerve. “It’s not a favor. We want to see our friends and make sure they’re all right. You want something from us, so we want something in return. That’s how things work.”

  “No, they don’t. Around here, we make the demands, and you comply.”

  “And if we refuse?”

  “Then we kill your friend.”

  I did my best to keep my cool. “For all we know, he might be dead anyway. And if he’s not and you decide to kill him, we won’t be doing any work for you at all.”

  Silence came down the line. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear the drumming of my heart. I swore I could feel it beating against the inside of my ribcage.

  To my surprise, Frankie relented.

  “Fine. Meet us at the restaurant at midnight. You’ll get to see your friends then. But don’t try anything stupid. We have men watching your building and we’ll know right away.”

  I was tempted to tell him we’d already met his men and they’d been acting as chauffeurs for us, but I didn’t want to get them in trouble.

  “We’ll be there.” And I hung up.

  “Did I hear that right?” Ryan asked. “Frankie is going to let us see Rue and Dillon.”

  “Yeah. Tonight, at midnight.”

  “That’s good, right? At least we’ll know they’re okay.”

  “For the time being, anyway.”

  Ryan wheeled himself across the apartment. He always needed movement to enable him to think clearly. “Is there anything we can do? Any way we can free them?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t see how. We’re unarmed and outnumbered.”

  Ryan thumped his hand down on the side of the chair. “Plus, I’m in this fucking thing.”

  “In the grand scheme of things, the chair is just one small factor, Ryan. You know that.”

  He nodded to show he did. Things were stacked badly against us.

  “I think right now, we just need to be grateful that Frankie Capello is willing to work with us. At least we’ll get to see Rue and Dillon, make sure they’re all right, and let them know we’re safe, too.”

  Ryan let out a growl and dragged his hand through his hair then scrubbed his face. “I just hate feeling so fucking useless.”

  “Yeah, I know. But we need to be smart. We don’t have people and guns, but we have our brains, and we need to use them. Now isn’t the time to jump in with both feet. We might get some clues about where Dillon is being held when we go to meet them, which we can use later.”

  “Agreed.”

  The hours of the day stretched seemingly endlessly ahead, and we had no choice but to wait for night to come. Then we’d be reunited with the two other people we loved, if only for a short while.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dillon

  THE DOOR OF MY PRISON opened, and I turned my face away, the sudden light blinding me.

  “Come on,” Meathead said. “You’ve got visitors.”

  I got to my feet. “Visitors? Like if I was in a real prison? Do I get conjugal rights?”

  I saw he was armed, but I tried not to focus on the weapon, hoping he might not have noticed me clocking it.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” he snapped. “Put your hands behind your back.”

  Could I try to grab the gun? It was tempting. I didn’t want my hands to be taped up again, but I was also curious about who had come to see me. I didn’t want to make the wrong choice and screw this up.

  I battled with myself for a moment then let out a sigh. I put my hands behind my back and turned to offer my wrists to him. I could have tried going for the gun, but if it didn’t work—which it most likely wouldn’t, since he was twice my size—I wasn’t going to find out who had come to visit.

  He pulled a roll of the thick, silver tape out from his shirt pocket, and found the end. Then he wrapped tape around my wrists, looping it around and around, the binds growing more secure each time. Images of throwing my head back and nutting him in the face danced through my mind, but I held myself back. People would be waiting upstairs for me, and I could guarantee that even if I managed to take Meathead’s gun off him, each one of those people would also be armed, and they’d most likely have five guns to my one. No, as much as it pained me to do so, I needed to bide my time and see where this was going.

  Meathead tore off the last strip of tape. “There. That’ll keep you in your place.”

  Miraculously, I managed to keep my lips clamped shut, preventing any smart-assed comments that might result in him breaking my nose. He grabbed my bicep, his fingers digging hard into the muscle, and propelled me toward the door. We both had to duck to get out—him more than me—and I stepped out into what I recognized as a normal working restaurant cellar. So, I had been right when I’d figured I was being kept beneath the pizza place. The small section of the cellar must have been cut off from the rest of it with the sole intention of having somewhere to keep people they didn’t want others to find.

  Though the place was only lit by one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, it was still bright for my eyes. Spending so much time in the dark had made them sensitive, and I had to blink and squeeze out tears to regain my full vision. I took the opportunity to assess my surroundings for anything I might be able to use. To one side were the crates I assumed needed to be shifted before the door was opened. They would have hidden the small entrance from anyone who might accidentally stumble upon the place. I had to wonder if the hole I was being kept in was also soundproofed. I imagined I’d been a fairly quiet captive so far, but not everyone would be that way. They wouldn’t risk all the screaming and shouting being overheard by a member of the public.

  I scanned for something that might be used as a weapon or to make an escape, but there were only the usual barrels of beer and boxes of wine. Maybe I could grab a bottle and use that to cut someone, but I certainly wouldn’t be able to do so with my hands taped behind my back. Besides, Meathead had a good hold on me, and I didn’t doubt for a second that he would crush me in an instant if I tried anything.

  “Keep going,” he said, shoving me toward the stairs at the far end of the cellar.

  “Okay, I’m going.”

  I must have subconsciously slowed my pace while I’d been taking in the contents of the cellar, and Meathead had noticed.

  There was a door at the top of the stairs. It was shut, but I wondered if they normally kept it locked. Security might be an issue. After all, they had a lot of money’s worth of booze down here. But then I thought what the Capellos normally dealt in and figured that no one would be stupid enough to try to rob them for a couple of cases of wine.

  He shoved me up the stairs, and we paused at the top while he leaned past me and opened the door. My head was constantly filled with ways I could get one over on him—maybe a good hard shove down the stairs would give me the opportunity to escape. But first I needed to make sure I knew exactly what lay ahead of me. Shoving Meathead down the stairs while I had both hands bound, only to discover there were more locked doors ahead of me, wasn’t going to do me any good.

  It must be either very late or the early hours of the morning, since I assumed they wouldn’t march me through the restaurant like this if it were full of customers. Because I’d been locked away in the dark for so long, I had no concept of night and day. When I slept, it only made my disorientation worse, and I was unable to figure out if I’
d been asleep for hours or only minutes. One thing I was sure of, though, was that we still had time before Rue needed to testify, and right now Rue, Kodee, and Ryan were the only things I cared about. If I escaped, it would only be to try to find them. Nothing else mattered to me.

  We passed down a corridor, through a set of doors, then through the industrial kitchen, which was currently free of any chefs or other kitchen staff. Meathead pushed me through a second set of double swinging doors, and I stepped out into the restaurant to discover we weren’t alone.

  Several people were already waiting for us, including Frankie Capello and a couple of his men. Standing between them was someone I’d been dreaming of seeing for the last few days.

  I could barely believe my eyes. She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her, though frail and vulnerable, too, caught between Frankie’s men like a prisoner.

  “Rue!”

  I lunged for her, only wanting to be near her, but Meathead grabbed my shoulders, holding me back. I struggled against him, but with my hands bound, there wasn’t much I could do.

  Tears filled her eyes, oceanic blue.

  “Dillon!” she cried. “Oh, my God. I’m so happy you’re all right.”

  As all right as I can be when I’m locked up in the dark day after day, I wanted to say but didn’t. I didn’t want her to worry about me. I figured she probably had enough shit going on in her life to deal with.

  “I’m fine,” I said instead. “Are you okay? Have they been treating you all right?”

  Meathead shoved me from behind. “Enough talking.”

  What were we doing here? I was fairly sure we wouldn’t be given this meeting for no reason. The Capellos never did anything unless it benefitted them in some way.

  From outside came the slam of car doors and the murmur of voices.

  Movement came at the front of the restaurant. Others had arrived, but who? My guts tightened with fear. What if it was someone coming to buy Rue? No, it wouldn’t be. She still had a few days before the trial, I was sure. She was worth more to the Capellos in court than she was in a man’s bed.