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“Is everything okay?” He seems interested, yet an intelligent man knows he's merely digging for information. Quickly as possible, I give him the rundown, hitting on the important parts for the sake of time. “I'm sure my ex-wife had something to do with this, although I don't know who she was working with. Romero has eyes and ears on it, so hopefully we'll have an answer soon.”
A glance into the room shows Romero seated at Tatum's side. I don't think he's blinking, staring at her with an intensity I've never seen from him. “My money is on Jack Moroni.”
“I'll ask around, see if there's been any chatter. Please, let me try to help.”
I don't have a choice but to accept, do I? No less than my entire life hangs in the balance. My daughter, my unborn child, and the woman I love. They need me. I can't afford to fall apart the way Charlie is, swinging from grief to rage to helpless horror and back again.
“Thanks. Let me know if you hear anything,” I mumble into the phone and hit the end key. I grip the device in my hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary. Somewhere out there is the woman I love, and she's at the mercy of someone menacing because of me.
I'll never forgive myself if I lose her, if I lose our baby.
Finding her isn't an option.
If I have to, I'll burn the world to the ground to bring her home.
BIANCA
Just when I thought I'd been through the worst that a person could ever possibly go through…you know, after everything that happened with Lucas, all the ups and downs I went through with Callum, losing mom, and watching my father fall apart. All of those things have left invisible scar tissue running through my body, brain, and heart. That scar tissue however isn't thick enough to protect me against the shame that's now coating my insides with a sticky residue.
“Do you really have to watch me do this?” As if pissing and shitting in a bucket in the corner of the room isn't bad enough. That alone would be horrifying and degrading without an audience keeping tabs on my every move.
The thick-necked thug standing with his back to the closed metal door barely offers a sneer in response. The room is no longer dark thanks to the bare bulb glowing overhead, but I'd prefer the darkness. At least then, the darkness would hide his vulgar expression and the cold glittering of his beady eyes.
“Aren't you going to respond?” I demand, standing beside the bucket, trying like hell not to look inside, because these assholes refuse to empty it.
“Yeah.” His lips turn up into a full-on, nauseating smile. “I was actually just thinking about how I can't wait till the boss says it's okay for us to get to know you better.”
My stomach churns when he reaches down and grabs his crotch through his jeans. Like I needed a visual explanation.
“I'd think long and hard about that because the moment you put a hand on me, is the moment you'll end up losing that hand,” I vow, meeting his gaze.
“You're a real big talker, but I don't see anyone coming to rescue you yet. A smart girl would learn her place around here before talking shit like you are.”
My biggest concern is keeping myself alive. I don't know how long these guys will treat me decently—not that there's anything decent about watching me relieve myself, which I have no choice but to do while they watch me do it. I'm both ashamed and embarrassed, but I have to be strong the way I know Callum would need me to be.
Somewhere out there, he's looking for me, and the only thing I can do is keep it together until he gets here. I refuse to let Jack think he's won. That thought alone keeps me from shattering into a million pieces. I'm not going to give him that type of satisfaction. He thinks he's dealing with a weak, fragile flower. Except I'm not a flower. I'm a Queen and given the opportunity, I'd kill him and anyone else I have to in order to save myself and my baby.
“Satisfied?” I ask once I'm finished peeing.
“I'll be a lot more satisfied when the boss loosens up the rules.” He's even breathing heavier than before, the noise making my stomach churn. It takes a certain kind of sickness to get off on the despair of another individual.
“Hey, remember what I said. I doubt I would be breaking any woman's heart by castrating you. In fact, I'd probably be doing them a favor.” My panic rises when he turns toward the door, and I blurt out, “Where is Jack? I want to see him.”
“It's a real shame you don't call the shots.”
“I'm serious. I want to talk to Jack.”
“So am I.” He lets out a malicious laugh before leaving the room, swinging the heavy door back into place with a thud before the lock clicks into place.
Now that I'm alone, I can let the mask fall. Putting on a front is exhausting, and the exhaustion only gets worse with every visit from these assholes. No matter how hard I try, there is no fighting back the fear that races through me. It isn't easy to ignore the doubt tickling the back of my mind now that a full day has passed, and it's dark all over again, signaling the end of another day. So much time has passed, and Callum still hasn't found me. I know he's trying—I believe that to the depths of my soul—but that doesn't mean he's anywhere close.
How much longer until they're no longer satisfied following Jack's rules, which probably aren't going to be strictly enforced anyway. These do not seem like patient or smart men, for that matter. They're bored, probably irritated that they have to be here to guard me.
Eventually, they're going to want some entertainment, something to make it worth their time. Humiliation appears to be their favorite tactic at the moment, because, of course it's more fun to hurt me than it is to watch paint dry, and I'm sure Jack enjoys knowing I'm being humiliated. Instead of lying back down on the dirty cot, where springs poke at me no matter how I position myself, I throw my arms over my head to try to loosen the stiffness in my muscles.
Being in this cold, nasty place isn't helping any. I finally came to the conclusion that this is some basement, but to what building, I'm not sure. I can reach the window enough to know it's painted shut, but I can't see much of anything besides the sky when I look through it.
The frame to the cot is heavy, but not so heavy I couldn't drag it across the room and stand on it to get a better view. The only issue is that I don't need any of the men in the hall hearing me. I'm sure it would make a terrible screeching noise, dragging the rusted metal over a concrete floor. If I was only concerned about myself, I would still try it. They might slap me around a little, but I could handle it, but there's more than just myself to think about now. I guess I don't need to see outside that badly if it means risking another life to do it.
