AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good.” I turn and leave the office.
Chapter 24
The van door slides open to reveal bright daylight. A hand wraps around my upper arm, dragging me outside. I squint at the sun, my eyes having become accustomed to the gloominess of the van. I try to see the place they’ve brought me to. A big metal hangar that looks like some kind of a warehouse looms a few feet in front of me. It could be anywhere. I don’t manage to see more because one of the men, the bald hulk, ushers me toward the building. Stones and other debris press sharply into the skin of my bare soles.
What will they do to me? If they planned on killing me, they would have done it already. I cast a glance down at my tied hands and the gold band around my left wrist. Salvatore’s OCD is going to save my life. He’ll send someone to get me out. I just need to stay alive until they get here.
The inside of the warehouse is nearly empty, with only a few random pieces of furniture scattered around. In the far-right corner, there are a few mismatched chairs next to a longFormica coffee table. Eight men are sitting around it, drinking and laughing. I quickly drop my head to keep my eyes fixed on the hard ground between my feet. The guy holding me drags me toward the wall on the left and pushes me to the ground. With my hands tied, I don’t manage to soften the fall, and land hard on my shoulder, my nose against the damp and dirty floor.
“Don’t fucking move,” the bald guy barks and crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking in the direction of the wide sliding doors they’ve left open.
Looks like we’re waiting for someone. Probably the head of the Irish clan. I wiggle into a sitting position and lean my back against the wall, turning so I can see the entrance.
* * *
It must have been two or three hours since I’ve been brought into the warehouse. I can’t be sure since I don’t have a watch. I’ve spent most of that time on the cold floor, looking around, searching for a way out. Nothing has come of it. The bald guy keeping guard over me hasn’t said a word.
When I wasn’t looking for an opportunity to escape, I thought about the three men who died for me today. I didn’t know the two bodyguards who remained at the store’s door very well. I can’t even remember their names, and it’s eating me up inside. How can I not remember their names? I think about Alessandro. He might have been a big sullen grouch, but he saved my life today, probably several times, only to end up dead because of it. I wish the bald guy hadn’t shot Vincenzo. That fucking traitor deserved a much more painful death.
What do they plan to do with me? Are they going to askfor a ransom? Why haven’t they done something already? Other than maybe a few missing strands of hair, some cuts to my feet, and bruises on my arms from being manhandled, I’m pretty well intact, at least on the outside. At one point, I thought I might be gang-raped over a rusty oil can, but aside from the dirty jokes I’ve heard from the men around the table, I’ve been largely ignored. Obviously, I’m a pawn in a much larger game. Is that a good thing? Will they get more money from Salvatore if I’m unharmed?
A phone in the bald guy’s pocket rings. He takes it out, listening to the person on the other end for a while. Then, he looks over at the men who are gathered around the coffee table, watching some videos on someone’s phone and laughing.
“He’s here,” the bald hulk barks. The men jump off their chairs and rush to pick up their weapons resting against a wall nearby.
A large silver car pulls through the open doors. One of the men runs over and shuts the warehouse door behind the vehicle while the other seven stand in front of the car, their guns pointed toward it. The driver-side door opens and Salvatore steps out. I fumble my way up from my spot on the floor, intending to run to him, but the bald guy wraps his meaty hand around my upper arm, holding me firmly in place.
Salvatore closes the car door and looks around, paying no heed to the men pointing their guns directly at him. It’s as though he’s entered a 7-Eleven to buy a fucking carton of milk. I hold my breath, waiting for his men to barge in. Nothing happens. What the fuck? Why is there no one with him?
His gaze reaches me and stops. His eyes move down my body. I can only imagine what he must be thinking as he seesmy tangled hair and the scratches on my left cheek that I obtained when the bald Irishman pushed me roughly to the ground. His eyes roam over my stained powder blue dress and finally down to my bare feet. The men around yell at Salvatore to raise his hands, but he ignores them. His gaze travels back up my body until it reaches my eyes, where it remains fixed. Three of the Irishmen circle behind him, their guns trained on Salvatore’s back. They’re still shouting.
Two of the men grab Salvatore’s biceps and drag him to the chair at the center of the huge space. And he lets them. What the hell is going on? Where the fuck is his backup? They have the GPS coordinates from my bracelet, so why has Salvatore come alone, damn it? I watch in horror as they push him down onto the chair, and a short stocky man proceeds to tie Salvatore’s hands behind his back.
Salvatore doesn’t try to resist and says nothing. He just sits in the chair and stares directly at me.
* * *
The stocky guy pulls his fist back again and punches Salvatore in the stomach once more. I stifle a whimper and close my eyes for an instant as his fist makes contact.
“I think we should keep him alive for at least a few days,” one of the men standing by the wall says and laughs. “Until everyone gets their turn.”
When the stocky guy swings his fist again, I pull on my arm in an effort to get away, but the bald Irishman holding me tightens his grip. He’d moved me so I was standing in Salvatore’s line of sight. The only thing I can do is watch as another blow hits home.
Since the moment Salvatore entered ten minutes earlier, the Irish have focused all their attention on him, leaving me on the sidelines with the heavy-set bald man. I was bait, used to get Salvatore here.
He hasn’t uttered a word since he arrived. Not when they dragged him to the chair in the middle of the room and tied him to it, and not while they’ve been hitting him. He just sits there in silence and watches me—his piercing eyes never leaving mine.
The stocky guy hits him again, this time on the chin, and Salvatore’s head snaps abruptly to the side. I try to blink back tears, but they fall anyway. Some trickle down my cheeks to land on my ruined dress. They’re going to kill him, and he knew that the moment he stepped inside the warehouse. Still, he came. Salvatore takes a deep breath, lifts his head and returns his eyes to mine. I sniff and tug at my arm again, trying to lurch forward, but the hand holding me only tightens. I’m powerless against its vice-like grip.
The wide metal doors on the right slide open and a car moves inside, coming to a halt close to the chair where Salvatore is bound. The driver gets out and opens one of the back doors. A man in a navy suit emerges. He throws a look in my direction, then shifts his gaze to Salvatore as a wicked smile spreads across his lips.
“You know,” he says as he walks toward Salvatore. “If anyone had told me a woman would be your downfall, I’d have laughed them out of the room. I wonder what’s so special about her.”
Salvatore’s eyes leave mine and focus on the man in the suit. “Patrick,” he says in an even voice. “How nice of you tojoin us. I expected you to hunker down in your hole and let the others do your job for you, as is your usual style.”
What the fuck is he doing? Why is he provoking the Irish leader?
“Always so composed.” Patrick shakes his head and looks at me over his shoulder. “Will you maintain composure when I start playing with your wife? She is a pretty thing, I’ll give you that.”
