Turning, I glance the other way and see my chances of getting out of here are nonexistent. They have both exits completely blocked with five men on either side. My head turns back and forth like it’s on a swivel trying to find a fire escape or a door or anything.
“There’s nowhere to go, girlie!” one of the men calls to me.
His Irish accent is like a hot fire poker straight through my heart. These are Nolan Farrell’s men. I don’t know what they want with me, but it can’t be anything good.
The last time I saw Nolan Farrell, he was in my father’s face at the charity gala, threatening him because of his youngest son, Teague. Teague must have been caught up in some Italian mob business, and Nolan wasn’t having it.
Brody Farrell, Nolan’s oldest son, was there that night too, except I had been the one to piss him off by rejecting his advances.
So, there’s really no telling what they could want, but it’s definitely not to sit down to have a nice talk over a cup of tea.
I slowly back up towards the sedan and climb in the passenger’s seat. I stare at Marco’s slumped form and cry as I reach for the gun in his hand. I have to pry it out of his cold, dead fingers, but I manage to get it.
I have no idea how many bullets are in it or even really how to use a gun, but I’m determined not to let them take me or kill me without a fight.
A few of the men begin to come towards me, but I step out of the car and point the gun at them. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!” I scream, my voice high-pitched and filled with terror. My hands tremble as I desperately try to hold the gun steady but fail miserably.
“Careful, little girl. Do you even know how to use that thing?” one man asks as he keeps walking towards me.
This guy must have a death wish!
“Stop!” I demand, but he pays no heed to my warning.
He keeps getting closer and closer until I can see the color of his eyes – hazel.
“Now why don’t you give me that gun before you hurt yourself?” he asks, holding out his hand.
My finger rests on the trigger as I tremble. “S-stay away from m-me!”
The guy takes one more step forward, and suddenly the gun goes off. I gasp as the man’s hand in front of me explodes into a bloody, gruesome mess of exposed tissue and bone where his fingers used to be.
He screams in pain and pulls back his arm to cradle his messed-up hand against his chest. “Feck, the bitch shot me!” he shouts.
I’m so in shock at what I’ve done that I don’t even hear the men come up from behind me until it’s too late. I swing around to shoot at them too; but when I pull the trigger, nothing happens. The gun is out of bullets.
And suddenly, there are too many of them to fight off as they grab me and drag me backwards to the black SUV. “Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, clawing, kicking, biting and fighting as much as I possibly can.
But my efforts prove futile as they wrestle me to the SUV and throw me in the back like a ragdoll where I’m gagged, blindfolded and handcuffed within seconds.
I continue to struggle until I’m pinned down and then abruptly feel a pinch in the back of my neck.
Whatever they injected me with feels like fire running through my veins, instantly numbing me until I fall into a quiet, dark pit of nothingness.
CHAPTER 7
VICTORIA
I COME TO slowly, my consciousness gradually clawing its way through the dense fog in my brain. I stare around the small, concrete room as it comes into focus and try to make sense of where I might be. The room is no bigger than five by five with a drain in the middle of the floor, a thin blanket that I’m currently lying on and a rusty, metal bucket in the corner.
The door to the room is made of steel and reinforced with a large bar across the center, which I’m assuming can only be unlocked from the outside since I don’t see a keyhole or any way to lift the bar from the inside.
My body is so sore that I groan out loud in pain when I sit up from my prone position, and I’m so cold that my teeth are chattering uncontrollably.
I’m still in the dress I was wearing when I was kidnapped, but my coat, shoes and stockings are missing. I carefully lift the hem of my dress and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see my panties are still there and intact.
At least they didn’t violate me while I was out of it, but I have no idea what they have planned for me here in this concrete prison. They might rape me…or worse.
Whatever they are planning to do, I’m about to find out, because I hear some movement on the other side of the door, and then the heavy bar is sliding to the right, effectively unlocking it.
The door swings open, and I’m greeted by a large red-haired man with a long, ruddy beard. He doesn’t give me an option of getting up. He simply comes over and grabs me, hauling me up by my arm, his grip so tight there’s no doubt I’ll be left with bruises on my skin. He half walks, half drags me out of the room.
I’m surprised to see I’m in some sort of underground bunker. There are no windows, and concrete makes up the concave ceiling, floor and walls as we walk down a small hall where there are several other rooms just like the one I was in. They are all full of canned goods, equipment and supplies, however, with the giant, steel doors standing open.
Once the man leads me past the rooms and into the wide, open space, I realize how much trouble I’m in. Nolan Farrell stands there with several of his men. There are tools and what can only be described as torture devices scattered over a long, metal table by the stairs that lead to the outside world. There’s a big, galvanized tub in the center of the room, and a camera set up in the corner with a small, metal stool in front of it.
I’m forced to sit on the stool, the metal practically burning through my skin from the coldness of it. My teeth continue to chatter as Nolan comes up from behind me. “Say hi to the camera, Victoria.”
I stare at the large lens staring back at me, but I refuse to say a word. I don’t know who he’s planning on showing this tape to, but I can only assume it’s my father.
Suddenly, my arm is forced behind my back and raised to the point where I think my shoulder is going to pop out of its socket. “I said…say hi to the camera.”
I scream in pain as he hikes my arm even higher.
Satisfied with my response, he says, “That’ll do,” before releasing me. He pulls a rolled-up newspaper out of his back pocket and holds it up to the camera, obviously showing today’s date. When he pulls the paper back, he tells the camera, “I have your daughter, Ciccone. Your only daughter. Your only flesh and blood,” he makes a point of saying.
Standing behind me, he hooks his hand around my neck, forcing my head up so that I have to look at him. “Such a pretty face. She looks just like her mother, ya know.” His hand trails from my neck and down under the neckline of my dress where he squeezes my right breast cruelly. I gasp in pain, but refuse to cry out. “Such a shame she’ll be dead soon.” Releasing me, he steps in front of me and gets close to the camera. “You took my youngest boy. Teague. Tortured him for information. Sent him back to me in pieces.” He turns to me and stares me dead in the eye as he says, “And now I have to do the same thing to your daughter.”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I hang my head. The many sins my father has committed in his lifetime have been constantly crashing down on me, but this time I’m paying with my life.
Turning back to the camera, Nolan says, “I’m going to send you a video every day, Ciccone. I’m going to make you watch the life drain from your daughter’s body until there’s nothing left. And then you’ll be the one getting back your flesh and blood in a fecking box.”
I realize in that moment that there’s no way out of this. Nolan isn’t trading me for turf or drugs or money. This is all about him exacting his revenge against the death of his son. And ending my life is the only payback he deems fit.
“Doing this won’t bring your son back!” I tell him in a rush.
Nolan nods in agreement. “
You’re right about that, lass. But this will make your father suffer as much as I have suffered over the loss of my boy.” He pauses before saying, “We have a rule in the Irish mob — an eye for an eye.” He points to the camera and says, “Your father knew that, and he still took my boy from me.” Looking at me once more, he says softly, “And now ye must suffer the consequence of his actions.”
He snaps his fingers, and two of his men come forward to each take one of my arms. They drag me towards the galvanized tub in the center of the room, which I now see is filled with water. I dig my heels into the concrete, trying to find some purchase, but not being able to stop any of this from happening.
Before I can even take a deep breath, I’m bent over the tub and my head is forced under the water. I struggle against the strong hold on me, panicked and screaming under water. I force myself not to take a breath, but I can only hold out for so long.
Just when I don’t think I can go any longer without oxygen, I’m suddenly lifted out of the water. Sputtering, I drag air into my lungs, coughing and grimacing at the burning sensation of water in my nose and draining down the back of my throat.
“Please!” I beg, shivering from head to toe. “You don’t have to do this!”
Before I can fully recover, I hear Nolan say, “Again.”
And I barely have time to take a breath before I’m forced under the water again. This time they keep me under longer, and I end up inhaling some of the water. When they bring me upright again, my body convulses as I violently vomit the water out of my lungs. A string of curses flies from my mouth as I struggle against their grip on my arms, but they hold me firm.
I’m struggling to breathe now, but they dunk me five more times before I’m finally thrown back inside my concrete cell.
Soaking wet and feeling like I’m freezing to death, I huddle under the thin blanket and sob. I’ve never felt so desperate or so alone in my entire life. I try to think of something to calm me, but I can’t seem to focus on anything.
Feeling the weight of the locket against my neck, I grasp it in my hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. I lay there for what feels like an eternity, holding that locket in my trembling hands. And, when I finally close my eyes, I see Damon’s face. He smiles and tells me everything will be all right.
But I know that I must be dreaming, because he’s not coming to save me.
No one is.
CHAPTER 8
DAMON
I’M SITTING AT a small coffee shop that has bad coffee but free Wi-Fi when I open up my laptop. I’m incognito, wearing nondescript clothing — black jeans, black Henley and a black baseball cap pulled down low on my head. I glance around me to make sure no one is watching before clicking to open the camera feed to Victoria’s apartment.
I search for any sign of her, but there is none. And there hasn’t been for three days now.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath before closing the laptop.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stare out onto the streets of New York. I should have left here weeks ago, but something is holding me back.
No. Someone is holding me back.
Even though I destroyed any chance I have of being with Victoria, a part of me just can’t seem to let her go. I had already packed up my apartment, ready to leave everything and everyone behind, only to find myself coming back to a hotel in the city not far from Victoria’s place.
I know that Victoria survived the gunshot wound, and she finally went home a few weeks ago. I know that because I’ve been watching her on the cameras I had installed in her apartment before she even moved in.
I’ve become obsessed with watching her, sometimes staying up until all hours of the night just to watch her sleep.
Call it intuition or a gut feeling, but I just couldn’t shake the notion that something bad was going to happen to her.
And now that she hasn’t been home for a few days, I’d say whatever I was feeling was right.
Something happened to her.
My cell phone begins to vibrate in my pocket, and I’m quick to answer when I see Baz’s name pop up on the screen. “Hello?”
“I have something here you’ll want to see, my friend.”
And then he hangs up the phone without another word or explanation. Furrowing my brows in confusion, I put the phone away, grab my laptop and leave the coffee place in a hurry.
Finding the nearest subway, I take the old access tunnels until I finally arrive at Baz’s underground lair. Usually I have to wait for access, but I notice the door is open and Baz is waiting for me.
Shit, this can’t be good.
“Follow me, my friend,” Baz tells me, leading the way through the twists and turns of his underground mecca. When we enter his office, he closes the door and indicates for me to have a seat at his desk. “I intercepted this being sent to Ciccone yesterday.”
He clicks the mouse, and a video begins to play.
At first, it’s just Nolan Farrell standing around with his gang of goons. But then, a petite brunette is led into the room. I instantly recognize her. “No,” I say with a shake of my head.
The moment they sit her down on a chair and she raises her head, my fingers involuntary move to the screen, tracing Victoria’s beautiful cheek. Fuck, I want to somehow reach in there and save her.
Nolan tells her to say hi to the camera, but Victoria remains firmly seated, glaring at him. I can’t help but smile at her stubbornness and courage in the face of adversity.
That’s my girl.
But then Nolan is wrenching Victoria’s arm behind her back, forcing her to scream. The scream pierces me like an ice pick going right through me to my very soul.
Nolan releases her and holds up a newspaper to the camera next. The date is from three days ago. Fuck, she’s been going through this hell for three days. She could be…she could be dead already, and I wouldn’t even know it.
“I have your daughter, Ciccone,” Nolan says on the video, bringing my attention back to him. “Your only daughter. Your only flesh and blood.”
I watch as Nolan moves behind Victoria, his hand wrapping around her neck. I grip the armrests of Baz’s chair so hard I can hear the leather cracking under the force. “That son of a bitch,” I growl as Nolan lowers his hand and squeezes her breast. “He’s a dead man,” I spit out through clenched teeth.
“I’m afraid it gets worse, my friend,” Baz tells me.
I listen to Nolan ranting and raving about the death of his son and how Victoria is going to pay for her father’s sins. This is all about the death of Teague, Nolan’s youngest son. Ciccone tortured the kid for information about the Irish Mob and then sent him back to his father in pieces. What the fuck did Ciccone think was gonna happen? Did he think Nolan was just gonna roll over and die?
Now Victoria will have to suffer for what Ciccone has done. Again. Just like she suffered when I tried to get my own revenge on her father.
When Nolan snaps his fingers and two men come over and grab Victoria, I’m not prepared for what happens next. The two men take her to a giant, metal tub in the center of the room. She’s forced to bend over the edge, and I can see her legs kicking wildly as water spills out over the edges of the tub.
“Fuck!” I abruptly stand up. I start to turn away. I don’t want to watch this, but I force myself to return to the desk, to sit down and watch every torturous second of her ordeal. I force myself to watch them try to break her.
She fights the men every step of the way, spewing curses at them and trying to plead with Nolan in between rounds of being dunked under water.
By the end of it, Victoria is a sobbing, shivering mess, but she still fights the men as they carry her away, somewhere offscreen.
I can still hear her screams after the video cuts off. It’s as if they’ve been seared into my mind, set to repeat forever.
“This happened three days ago. How many more of these videos are there?”
Baz hesitates before saying, “One more that I was able to find.�
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Curling my hands into fists on the armrests, I tell him, “Show me.”
Baz cues up the next video, and I force myself to watch this one just like the first. By the end of it, I know what must be done in order to help Victoria. She might ultimately hate me for it, but at least it will give me a chance to save her life.
CHAPTER 9
DAMON
TURNS OUT SETTING up a meeting with Giorgio Ciccone was easier than I thought it would be. The old man actually wants to meet with me to discuss Victoria and what the hell we’re gonna do about trying to get her back from Farrell.
Baz is riding shotgun on our way to Ciccone’s mansion, the same place where everything went down weeks ago. The very place where I ultimately made a choice and, in doing so, ultimately lost Victoria.
The guard at the shack out front lets me drive through the gate, which they fixed since my fast escape, with no problem.
“Are you sure we’re not driving right into an ambush?” Baz asks me, but there is no fear in his voice. If anything, he sounds amused by the idea.
“I’m planning on walking out of here alive,” I respond. “If Ciccone tries to pull anything, I won’t be afraid to draw first blood…again.”
“Good enough, my friend,” Baz comments as he takes in the mansion with a long, low whistle. “Damn, Ciccone is certainly living the high life up in his castle.”
“You’re just used to seeing things from an underground perspective.”
Baz gives me a nod in agreement. “Perhaps it’s time for me to come back to the surface,” he says wistfully, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s serious. Baz has been underground for so long I didn’t ever think he’d want to live in my world again.
Parking the SUV in front of the house, both of us exit and are greeted by more guards. The fact that they don’t frisk us is shocking, to say the least, considering what happened last time I set foot in this place. Baz turns to me with a raised eyebrow, and I give him a subtle shrug in response. I feel like we’re getting ready to walk into something I’m not prepared for, and I don’t like that feeling. I always like to have control in every aspect of the word.
Victorious: A Dark Mafia Romance (Deviant Series Book 2) Page 3