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Victor understands how personal it is to me. He promised he’d help me get revenge, that I’ll get to be the one to put a bullet through Bellini’s head. It’s because of that promise that I’m willing to help him. I don’t care who runs the dark side of Benton City anymore, just as long as that fucker dies by my hand.
“Took you a while,” Victor says mildly. There’s a glass of scotch in his hand, which he sips slowly. “I started to wonder if you two couldn’t handle her.”
“Fuck off,” I answer. “She was on the move, so we had to change our plans.”
Lucia’s been awfully quiet. She’s even stopped pounding on my back. I could set her down gently, but I don't want her to get the wrong impression. I’m not gentle.
I dump her on the floor, and that short moment where she’s falling, she shrieks. Her body makes a loud thud as it lands.
“Screw you!” She struggles to get onto her knees. She probably wants to stand, but I place my gun against her temple.
“Show some respect, Princess. Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“No one important. Just another two-bit low-life criminal, who thinks he’s the hottest shit in town. You’ll get kicked out of this town real fast.” She smirks at him, like she’s forgotten she’s on her knees with her hands cuffed behind her and my gun against her head.
Victor doesn’t react to her taunt. He calmly takes another sip of his scotch before looking at Saint. “Gag her, would you?”
“Sure thing!” Saint pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket. He just carries those around. Says you never know when they’ll come in handy, and I guess that’s true. We’ve had to impromptu gag a few people over the past few years.
What’s weird is that Saint doesn’t tie the cloth across Lucia’s mouth. He covers her nose and lips, and although she struggles for a few moments, she soon slumps forward into Saint’s arms.
“The fuck?” I lower my gun and glare at him. “Was that necessary?”
Saint shrugs, still smiling. “At least I didn’t ask if it smells of chloroform before I knocked her out. That would’ve been the tacky part.” He lifts Lucia up in a bridal carry, her head lolling against his shoulder. “This way just seemed faster. Where do you want her, boss?”
Victor finishes his scotch calmly and sets the glass down on the coffee table. On a coaster, of course, because Victor can’t abide by water stains on the furniture. Sometimes I put my drinks right next to the coasters just to piss him off.
“Take her to the basement. I have a camera set up there. We’re going to show Bellini exactly what will happen to his daughter if he doesn’t give in to our demands.”
I feel arousal pool in my belly. My cock throbs with anticipation.
The basement is where we take care of the dirtiest business. Lucia’s going to have a very, very bad day.
But us? We’re going to have a lot of fun.
3
Saint
Inever get tired of feeling the softness of a woman in my arms, especially when she’s dead to the world and I have control over each and every thing she does. Lucia is out cold, and even if she wanted to fight me, she wouldn’t have been able to. She’s a little bit of a hellcat, but she’s weak, too.
I’d have expected Giorgis Bellini’s daughter to be more capable of handling herself, but she’d been surprisingly easy to subdue. If she’d made a scene on the train, it might’ve been more difficult, but she’d been meek as a kitten until she’d realized just how much trouble she’d been in.
And trying to fight against Angel? That was just downright stupid.
But I’m glad she did it, because it’ll make what we do to her that much sweeter.
I set her down on the bondage chair, and Angel unlocks the cuffs. We remove her sweater and her torn tank top, leaving only the black lace bra behind. Angel takes off her pants, too, and I get a glimpse of a gorgeous pair of silk and lace panties.
Black lace.
It’s a surprise for Giorgis’s oldest daughter to be wearing something so naughty, but I’m not going to complain. We secure her arms to the chair once she’s undressed, and her head lolls to the side. Another strap goes around her waist just for good measure, but I don’t bind her ankles. Not yet.
I have plans for her, and they involve leaving her legs wide open for me.
Once we have her in the chair, I go to the camera and inspect it.
“Jesus, Victor. Did you have to pick the worst one we have?” I gripe.
