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“What’s…” But I don’t need to ask what it is that’s holding Paul’s attention so thoroughly. There’s a screen turned on, and there on her bed on the television is my Melissa.
I stiffen at the thought. She’s notmyMelissa. Just Melissa.
She’s got her knees pulled to her chest again, and she’s crying into her forearm.
“He’s got a camera on her? On her bed?”
Paul pushes a button that shows a four-way split screen. “Not just her bed. The bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen, too. Greg’s got her whole house wired, the sick fuck. He likes to watch her. It’s recording now.”
Rage kindles in my chest. “No wonder he gave her such a good deal on the rent.” I can’t watch my little doll cry. The whole thing brings about a mix of fury and pity. I want to hold her just as much as I want to put Greg’s head through the wall for doing this to such a sweet girl.
I spin on my heel and stalk toward the living room, where Greg is cowered in the corner with Benny standing over him. I wave away my right-hand man and take a swing at Greg. I don’t hit out of anger, usually. It’s always been a calculated assault, until now. My upper lip curls as I punch his temple so hard, I know I’ve rung his bell. “You sick bastard! That’s how you get off? You tape her for your spank bank?”
“No!” Greg pleads, holding his arms up to cover his head. “No, it’s not for me!”
That stays my fist, but only for a moment. “Who’s it for?”
Greg swallows hard, backing into the corner as much as his body will allow. “Lance. Lance Hamilton. He pays me to record her. He wants her where he can see her, and she won’t let him near. He’s the one who pays the other half of her rent, so she can stay here for very little. He taps into the feed I set up as his payment for chipping in for her rent.”
Benny’s grimace is just as animated as mine. “Are you serious? Lance Hamilton? A man in our organization told you to do this?”
Greg nods. “I thought you knew! He’s part of your organization. He works for Antonio Moretti!”
I punch the side of Greg’s face. “We deal in gems, not women. I’ll settle this with Lance after I handle you.”
Greg drools blood before he speaks. “The feed is live. There’s a good chance Lance watched you break into her unit.”
My stomach hollows. “Is there sound on that thing?”
Greg nods, then holds his head while his eyes roll back.
“Shit.” I step back, straightening while I run my hand through my dark hair. “Shit!”
Benny turns his chin toward me like a good right hand, waiting for my signal.
I don’t know what to do. Or actually, I don’t know what to do first. I take a deep breath when all I want to do is breathe actual fire to burn this place down.
This was supposed to be a quick visit, but now everything is complicated and unsolvable.
“We need to get Melissa out of here. Lance knows that she told me about him stalking her. He knows I won’t let that stand. He saw us…” I can’t even say the word “kissing” because it sounds so trite. Sure, maybe it was only kissing, but it was so much more.
“We need to get her out, and then we can deal with Lance.” I shake my head. “Brunello is going to flip.”
We treat the women in our organization well. If they found out we had this shit going on behind the scenes and didn’t shut it down, it would cause all sorts of problems.
Benny nods. “What do you want me to do with him?” He jerks his thumb toward Greg.
I turn my head in the weasel’s direction. “You got my money?”
Greg shakes his head, tears mixing with drool and blood. “I can get it for you! Give me a week, and I’ll…”
I wave off his excuse. “He’s got money coming in from Lance and from Melissa’s rent. He should have no problem finding the money, unless he’s gone to the south side and blown it up his nose.” I button up my suit jacket. “I don’t have the patience for this shit tonight. Take care of it, Benny.”
I stalk out, whistling for Paul to wrap up his job of wiping the computers so the images of my doll getting dressed or showering aren’t floating around for random perusal.
I stalk back into Melissa’s home with a new mission, but I nearly forget it all when I come face to face with her tears once more. All control and bravado fall to the wayside, my shoulders lowering as I stand in the doorway of her bedroom. “Melissa,” I whisper, waiting for her to look up. I don’t know how good the sound quality on these cameras is, so I keep my words quiet and choose them carefully. “Melissa, I need you to pack a bag. You’re coming with me.”
Melissa sniffles, raising her chin to examine my sincerity. “What?”
