Oh god, that hurt.
Blood drips down my nose as his hands tug at my shirt, trying to rip it off while the other begins to pull down my yoga pants.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I scream at the top of my lungs while his friends cheer him on. I lift one leg and kick him in in the chin, snapping his head back. I take the moment to kick him in the chest too, and he tumbles out of the cage, landing flat on his back.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Vince shuts the cage before I can run out of it and hooks the lock in, clicking it shut so I can’t get out. I clatter against the walls heavily, drawing the wind from my lungs. I scream again and rattle the wall, but collapse back on my ass on the ground before I can make any more noise.
I’m tired. I’m so tired.
“Malcolm,” Vince greets.
A few of the other guys in the room quiet down as their leader steps forward. Everyone is wearing cuts, but there’s nothing on them except their names, now that I can get a good look. Who are these guys and what the hell do they want?
Malcolm’s footsteps are heavy but languid. He takes his sweet time coming to me, which gives me a chance to look at him. He is tall, average build, and definitely not ugly. He has a nasty scar across his cheek, bright scalding blue eyes, and shaggy black hair that is a bit greasy. Evil oozes from his pores.
“And who do we have here?” he asks, squatting down to my level, the whiskey on his breath making me hold mine.
“That is my brother’s wife. She fucking killed him,” Vince spits.
“Aw, all that time searching, and you come up empty-handed? So sorry for your loss,” he drones, not sounding sorry at all.
“I didn’t kill him, but someone else did. And I couldn’t fucking care less,” I hiss.
“Feisty. I like that in a woman. You seem… resilient. I bet I could make you obey me if given the time.”
“I’d rather die than ever obey anything you have to say.”
He inhales sharply, closing his eyes as if he is getting high off my reluctance. “Mmm,” he chuckles, tapping his finger against the bars. “But wouldn’t you rather live as a Queen next to her King than die a lonely whore?” he smirks, the scruff on his face adding to his rugged appeal.
“I’d rather die a whore than live a life anywhere near you or any of you.” And I’m already someone’s Queen. Not that Malcolm cares.
“We will see about that. I want you for myself, Alicia,” he enunciates my name. Sounds like he enjoys saying it. “What can I say? I have a thing for redheads. Reminds me of fire. And I really love fire.”
“Make no mistake, Malcolm.” I push my face against the bars again and he does the same, calling my bluff. I can almost feel his lips against mine and it makes me want to curl away, but I won’t. I refuse to look weak in a man’s eyes ever again. “I am nothing but ice.”
“Ooooh,” he pretends to shiver. He dips his head down and brushes his lips across mine, his clear eyes reminding me that his favorite beverage just might be iced. “I’m intrigued.”
Great.
A psychopath.
It must be in my blood to attract men who are fucking out of their minds.
“No one is to touch her. Do I make myself clear?” he announces, and I sag against the bars with relief. “She’s mine. I want her brought to my room later. Tomorrow, we will have a ceremony.”
“A ceremony?” Vince asks.
Malcolm’s fingers slide under my chin. “Oh yeah, get the word out. We’re getting married.”
Dread, cold and stagnant, settles into my lower belly.
“What? No. You can’t marry her. She’s the reason my brother is dead.” Vince protests. For the first time in my life, I agree with him.
“And…” I swallow. “And I have a daughter. You wouldn’t want that.”
“To have an heir to take over my empire that I’ve built underground? I’d want nothing more. I want her fed properly. Don’t touch her. Anyone who touches her will answer to me. And don’t think I don’t see the bruises on her face, Vince. No one touches her beside me.”
I swallow, already feeling my happiness with Quin quickly becoming a faded memory, like something from a distant past. I know when Malcolm says only he gets to touch me, it isn’t going to be how Quin touches me. It’s going to be borderline hate and pain.
Men like Malcolm and Vince don’t love easy. They don’t have the soft side that I love so much from Quin.
I’ll be lucky if I make it out of here alive. I grip the bars desperately and charm him with the best smile I can. “Malcolm, can’t I just go with you now? I’d love a bath and new clothes. I’m starving, and my head is killing me.” I hold my hand to my head and wince. The pain is real, the show isn’t.
“Are you hurting, my love?”
My love?
Fucking psycho.
I nod and give him the saddest eyes I can.
“Absolutely. You don’t have to be with these animals.” He snaps his fingers and Vince hands him the keys to my cage.
I might be free of these bars in a moment, but I’m smart enough to know I’m trapped in something much bigger.
A prison.
And I’m not sure of the way out.
I’ve checked her apartment and came up clean. Wolf didn’t find anything either. We are stumped. I found a few letters that said New York City signed by Vince, but no address, and while having the city is great, having the address would be a lot better.
Where the fuck do I start in a city of over eight million people?
“You okay?” Wolf asks, lighting a smoke as he leans against his bike outside of a small deli shop.
What I love about New York City is the fucking food. It’s best. What I hate is that I’ve lost my appetite. I haven’t eaten since yesterday when we left. No one in my network of connections has heard one fucking thing about Alicia or Vince.
It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
“I’ll be okay when I have Alicia back.” I bite into the Italian sub, the salami bursting across my taste buds and waking them up.
I guess I am hungry.
“I know it’s tough, but we will find her. At least she’s alive. You have that to go on.”
“Maybe. For all I know she’s dust in the Hudson River by now.”
He shakes his head and wipes his hand on a napkin as he chews. “You’d know if she’s dead. You’d feel it. People know. People hold onto hope, but deep down there is always something telling them that the hope is pointless because the one they love is dead. Do you have that feeling? Look past all the other bullshit, the fear and uncertainty. What does your soul say?”
I concentrate on what he is talking about and clear my mind with a deep breath. There is a huge knot of anxiety in my stomach, but it isn’t one of mourning. “I think she’s still alive,” I say, tossing my half-eaten sandwich in the trash. So much for fueling up. I can’t stand the thought of eating more right now.
“Then that’s what you go by.” He takes a sip of his Coke before taking another big bite of his Philly cheesesteak.
“Is that how you knew? About Abigale?”
He stops chewing and immediately his face saddens at the sound of her name. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to piss you off or put you back in a depression—”