Beneath These Lies (33 page)

A smile spread across my face. When the high beams flashed again, I hurried downstairs and slipped my feet into flip-flops before turning off the alarm and rushing outside. My front gate had been fixed, on Rix’s orders, so I unlocked it and pushed it open. I strolled toward the SUV, a huge smile on my face. The door pushed open partway and I slipped inside—and froze.

It wasn’t Rix.

It was a man I’d never seen before. And the barrel of his gun was pointed directly at me.

T
HE NIGHTMARE WAS SO VIVID
—being tossed over a shoulder, the taste of blood filling my mouth, men barking orders and slamming doors. I jerked awake, thankful it was just a dream.

My head pounded against the cushion.

Why am I sleeping in a chair? How much wine did I drink?

I yawned, rubbing a hand against my aching temple. It came away wet and my brain snapped into gear. It wasn’t a dream.

The Escalade. The guy with the gun. Everything going black.

Fuck.

Rix is going to kill them
.

And he wasn’t going to be very happy with me either. I’d gotten myself kidnapped.

Feelings of helplessness swirled inside, fighting to break free.
Keep it together, Valentina. You are not a victim. You are not going to fall apart. You’re going to save yourself.

Rising to my feet on shaky legs, I studied the room I was in. It was dark, but the carpet was plush and a fresh, clean scent tinged the air. I walked to the window and tugged aside the curtain. In the darkness, I could see lights reflecting off the surface of water. A lake? Maybe Pontchartrain? I craned my head, trying to get a better look, but in the darkness any landmarks were impossible to make out.

I flipped the latch on the window.
Could it be this easy? Just climb out the window and slip away into the night
. I shoved at the sill, but it didn’t move.

So that’s a no for easy.

I ran my fingers along the frame. It wasn’t painted shut . . . and then the pads of my fingers touched the screws.

Seriously? Complete fire hazard!
But could I break it?

Scanning my surroundings, I spotted a floor lamp near the chair I’d woken up in. Crossing the room, I bypassed the lamp for the door. Sheer curiosity had me trying the knob. Locked. Obviously. But I still had to try.

Rounding the chair, I pulled the plug free and hefted the lamp. It was solid and would work for my purpose. The window was about shoulder height, and I’d be able to haul myself up and over and be gone before they even knew I was missing. I hoped.

Using the lamp base like a battering ram, I slammed it into the window.

It bounced off.

Crap.

Readjusting my grip, I rammed it into the window again. Glass shattered and I spun, avoiding the flying shards.

Setting the lamp aside, I searched the room for something to clear the glass away so I could climb out without slicing myself to ribbons. The recliner I’d woken up in had two cloth covers over the arms.
Those’ll work
. Grabbing them both, I was almost to the window when the door burst open.

“Fucking bitch!”

The guy with the gun was back. And he looked even more pissed this time.

I reached for the window anyway.

Metallic pops sounded, and something hit the wall to my left.

Bullets.

Holy. Crap.

I dropped to the floor, hands over my head, not caring that glass sliced into me. If I caught a bullet, I might not live long enough to heal anyway.

The room quieted, but fear kept me curled up in a ball.

The man spoke, triumph in his voice. “They told me not to touch you. Told me I couldn’t fuck you. But all bets are off when you start causing problems, you little bitch.”

His words echoed in my pounding head.
Told me not to touch you. Told me I couldn’t fuck you. But all bets are off . . .

No. No. No. Not again.
I couldn’t go through that again. Never. Again. I would fight. As my hands squeezed into fists, I found a shard of glass clenched in one palm. I would kill before I’d let someone make me helpless again.

“Get the fuck up.”

I forced myself to look up at him. The long barrel of the gun stared back at me. I shook, swallowing back bile rising in my throat.

He could kill me and no one would even hear it because even I’d seen enough movies to recognize a silencer. I shook and the glass sliced into my palm. The pain helped me hold on to the thin shred of my sanity.

“Get the fuck up,” he ordered again.

I pushed up onto my knees, my eyes never leaving the gun. Rising slowly, I fought my trembling muscles to stand tall.

Don’t show fear. Never show fear.

“Get the fuck over here.” He gestured with the gun.

The last thing I wanted to do was walk a single inch closer to a man who’d said he wanted to rape me. When I didn’t move, he snarled and strode toward me. As soon as he was within striking distance, my hand shot out, the shard of glass held like a dagger.

But I’d moved too soon. He dodged, roaring at me when my makeshift weapon sliced a path across his shoulder.

“You cunt!”

His fist swung, once again catching me in the temple. The blow sent me to my knees, the glass flying from my hand.

I wasn’t too proud to admit that I cowered as he grabbed me by the throat and dragged me to my feet.

My hands went to his, clawing at the grip cutting off my oxygen supply and unleashing flashbacks of the last time a man had pinned me down against my will.

You stupid whore. What kind of slut leaves with a man she just met? I’m gonna give you what you’re begging for. Make you beg for me.

I could feel his breath on my face as blackness edged around my vision. For a moment, I hoped for unconsciousness. But then I wouldn’t be able to fight back.

I fought harder. Clawed deeper.

He lifted and shook me until my arms dropped to my sides. “Stupid bitch. Fighting will only make it worse.”

The words were too similar. He slammed me into the wall again, my back cracking.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?”

Another voice penetrated the static rushing through my head. My eyes slid shut as the blackness crept closer and closer.

The man released his grip before I lost my hold on consciousness. I hit the floor, sucking in lungfuls of air. When the blackness receded, I stared up at the men as they shoved each other and argued.

The man with the gun grunted and threw his hands into the air. “Fine! Fucking take her! Cunt’s more trouble than she’s worth.” He shoved the door open and left.

The other man crouched in front of me, a hand wrapping around my arm. “Get up. I’m moving you.” When I jerked away, not wanting his touch on my skin, he only gripped harder and said, “Don’t fucking fight me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Tremors racked my body as he dragged me to my feet.

“Let’s go.”

I stumbled behind him as he led me around a corner and up a set of stairs. In my peripheral vision, I caught sight of two men standing near a table piled high with black packages shaped like bricks. Black duffel bags were mounded on the floor to the side.

Drugs.
The obvious answer penetrated my brain beyond the fight-or-flight instincts vying for supremacy. I snapped my eyes forward, not wanting anyone to realize I’d seen anything. I didn’t need to give them another reason to want me dead.

The man hauling me up the stairs turned right and shoved open a door to reveal a nursery.

“You make a sound, you’re dead. You try to climb out that window, you’re dead. You piss me off, you’re dead. And if Hernandez gets you, you’re probably worse than dead.”

Worse than dead.
Going back to the world where every sound terrified me and I couldn’t close my eyes without being haunted by nightmares would be worse than death.

He shoved me inside and I stumbled to the wall, pressing a hand against it as I slid down before wrapping my arms tight around my legs to present the smallest target possible.

“You try to leave this room, I promise you’ll regret it.”

He didn’t need to spell it out for me again. I got it. He turned and left the room, and I didn’t even hear the sound of the door locking.

But his threats would keep me from testing that handle. Who was I kidding? His threats would keep me curled into a ball on the floor while my memories battered me and I lost control over the tears welling in my eyes.

Rix. I need Rix.

W
ATCHING A MAN DRINK WASN’T
my idea of a good time, but something kept me sitting on the bar stool beside Hennessy as he ordered his first bourbon. He hadn’t said much since he walked in the door, but words weren’t necessary.

I checked the time again. Just after seven. I wanted to get to Valentina’s before eight. The way Hennessy was staring at the bourbon placed in front of him without touching it had me wondering how long this would take. I tried Johnny three more times with no answer. Something was off.

My phone lit up with a message from an unknown number. A photo.

I opened it and froze. I’d recognize Valentina anywhere, and the sight of blood dripping from her temple sent burning fires of rage bursting through my veins.

What. The. Fuck.

A text followed.

U
NKNOWN
N
UMBER
: She’s a fighter, but she ain’t getting away from us. She’ll get a bullet to the head if you don’t cooperate.

I wouldn’t panic, but I sure as fuck would rip the limbs from someone’s goddamned body for touching her. For daring to take my woman.

I closed out the message and called her phone. There was no goddamned way the FNDs had her. No fucking way.

It rang and rang until the voice mail picked up and her cheery voice answered.
“You’ve got Valentina. You know what to do.”

That was the fucking problem—I didn’t have Valentina. Someone else did.

I shoved away from the bar and stalked to the corner of the room. Leaving a message was probably pointless, but I didn’t care.

“I’m gonna get you home safe. Stay strong, duchess. I love you. Just hold on, and I’ll be there. I’m coming for you.”

I ended the call and slammed a fist into the wall.
How the fuck did this happen?
She was supposed to be locked up safe inside her house.

Didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting her back.

My phone buzzed in my hand. A call. My first thought was Valentina. But it wasn’t.

It was another unknown number.

I answered. “This is Rix, and if you got my woman, then you’re gonna die.”

A dark chuckle met my ears. “I’m not worried about dying today, but you should be worried about how long she’ll live. She’s a feisty one. I can see the appeal. You don’t cooperate, then I’m gonna let my guys feel the appeal when they fuck her on her hands and knees, tied up and screaming for you. They like the fighters.”

He would die. They would all die.

There was no other alternative.

I didn’t care what he wanted, but I held back my threats because I needed to know where he was. The voice, I recognized. Same piece of shit who’d been running weak game for years. He’d stepped up, and now he would die. Trio, a lieutenant of the FNDs, would not live to see the sunrise. He didn’t need to identify himself because I’d recognize his rough voice anywhere.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“What I’ve wanted since you left two of my guys dead and three as good as dead. Blood.”

“Then you come after my blood, not someone else’s, cocksucker.”

He laughed, and I gritted my teeth. Hennessy was off his stool and leaning against the pool table beside me.

“Hers spills just as easy.”

“Fuck you, you want a trade? Is that what you want?” I demanded. I wouldn’t let her bleed another drop for me.

“You know I’ll take your blood any day, but tonight, if you want her back, you’re gonna bring me money too. A fuck ton of it. I know you got it. You got two hours.”

The amount he rattled off was
big. So fucking big that if he’d given me a couple of days, I could get my hands on it, but not in two hours. No fucking way.
Shit
.