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What did he want with her?
More importantly, who was the man behind the mask?
Her first captor—the man who laid in wait, pretending he was having car trouble—refused to remove it. On the handful of occasions that he’d come to their room, either checking on Boone and Maria or bring them food, she was sure he was disguising his voice. It was still familiar, which just made this nightmare infinitely worse, and she wasn’t sure what was worse: being alone with Boone watching her with that flat expression, or having the two of them there, ignoring her presence entirely.
Right now, it was just Maria and Boone. She’d learned early on in her captivity that it did no good to refuse to eat. Boone was a big man with little patience. When she refused, he force-fed her until she thought she might throw-up on the comforter.
Since then, she choked down as much as she could, eager to keep up her strength in case she found an opportunity to escape. If Mack Turner taught her anything, it was that there was always a chance to get away if you were willing to risk it, and desperate and afraid, Maria was.
She couldn’t now. Laying on the bed, wishing she could sleep if only to escape this waking nightmare, Boone sat sprawled in the armchair. His legs were spread, his suit jacket tossed on the back of the chair, and he had a gun perched on this thick thigh as he watched her closely.
Despite the cuffs keeping her hands tied together, Maria nervously twirled the ring on her finger.
Boone snorted. “My boss bought his wife a much bigger rock than that and he only married her ‘cause the old man was on his ass. You sure your sheriff actually gives a shit?”
Over the last few days, Boone rarely spoke if the masked man wasn’t around. He seemed more interested in watching something on the computer he brought with him—from the sounds that she heard, she was certain it was pornography more often than not—than paying her any attention. She liked it that way, though part of Maria was rebellious enough to talk back.
Mostly because, when Boonedidtalk, it was inevitably to once again worship the ground that Thomas Mathers had walked on.
She couldn’t help herself. The dig toward Sly was bad enough, but the reminder that Boone returned to Hamlet time and time again in the honor of a dead psycho? “Grace never married that other man.”
“Wasn’t talking about Tommy,” Boone said. “But now that you mention him, you should’ve seen the ring he picked out for his ballerina. Man was fucking obsessed and you could tell from the jewelry he bought for her. But that’s what having money gets you.” Another dark look at Maria’s ring. “That’ll be soon.”
The dark look did something to Maria. That, and the promise in his tone when he talked about having money. She knew he had to be doing this for a reason… but had someone reallypaidhim to kidnap her like this?
She didn’t ask. She wouldn’t have anyway—but she didn’t have to.
For some reason, Boone seemed suddenly interested to share. “If the boss gets what he wants, I’m done with this shit. The stalking. The following. The baby-sitting. Getting shot,” he added, patting his wide chest with the flat of his palm. “We pull this off, me and my new partner, and we’ll get what we deserve.”
Boone grinned. It was the first time she’d even seen him make that expression, but there was no humor in it. Onlywant. “And you know what I decided I deserved? Enough money to get out of the job for good… and a feisty Italian woman that will wear a rock much bigger than that one.”
Maria froze. He couldn’t possibly mean…
His grin kicked up a little higher. Without taking his dark gaze from the fear on her face, the big man dropped his hand to his crotch.
She gasped.
His eyes lit up, as though he got more pleasure from the sound of her fright than he did touching himself.
“Don’t be afraid,principesa,” Boone said, the way he murmured the Italian term of endearment—literally “princesss”—in his deep voice making Maria’s stomach twist even tighter than when he fondled himself. Italian… did he know about her heritage, or was it a lucky guess? She didn’t know—and that terrified her even more.
“I’m not,” she lied.
Boone gave her a look that said he knew she was full of shit before he went on to say, “Good. There’s no internet in this backwater shithole, but I came prepared this time. Downloaded enough porn to keep me company while I wait for the next signal. I can rub one out in the bathroom and be fine… I’m not going to touch you.” He paused, stroking himself one final time, a cruel edge finding its way to his smile. “At least, not until I know they’ll sacrifice you for Tommy’s whore.” Leaning back in the armchair, angling his hips so that there was no denying the bulge pushing against his tailored pants, he added, “And then you’ll bemine.”
For a moment, Maria stopped thinking.
Stoppedbreathing.
She froze, knowing there wasn’t any escape, though she desperately wanted to be anywhere else but this room with thismonster.
She couldn’t believe what it was he implied before—and, her heart thudding so loudly, she swore he heard it, she had to admit this wasn’t the first time she caught him staring a littletooclosely—but hearing him come out and attempt to claim her? It was so much. Especially since Boone had returned to Hamlet for Grace’s wedding last winter, telling the gathered village that he would be taking her with him because, in his theory, if the former ballerina was good enough for Tommy, then there must’ve been something about her that Boone wanted.
And now? Whatever was going on… whatever stunt Boone and her faceless first captor were pulling… whoever this mysterious new ‘boss’ was… it seemed as though the man had set his sights on Maria next as his new prize.
Was it because Boone had complete power over her since the moment he helped carry her drugged body to the back of her car and got off on it? He knew enough about her to taunt her in Italian while stroking himself, dark eyes locked on her. If that’s what he did when she was visibly awake, what did he do when she chanced a restless few hours fo sleep?
Don’t be afraid?
