“He’ll be all right,” Leo whispered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Cassidy turned into him and did her best to control herself.
Leo reached out and slammed the door. Then he walked them back to the bathroom and slammed that door too.
Cassidy stiffened against him.
“Easy, Cass. You’re safe. I have no doubt that lecherous bastard is gonna check the cameras to see what we do now that Mario’s gone. Smoke and mirrors, that’s all this is.”
She nodded.
“It’s fucked up that they’ve got your room bugged in the first place, but that’s a battle I can’t fight at the moment. There aren’t any cameras in the bathroom—I checked earlier—so we’ve got more privacy here than anywhere else. Turn around and face the door.”
Without a word, she did as he asked. She’d been appalled when she’d found the cameras in her room, but when she’d complained, Lloyd had laughed and told her that she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food to eat. That it was the price she had to pay for living in such luxury.
She’d wanted to retort that she’d gladly give it all up if she could just have her and Mario’s passports back, but Lloyd had leaned in and hissed, “We own you, bitch. Get used to it.”
And she supposed he was right. If what Leo had said was true, and she had no reason to doubt him, Michael really had given her to Leo to use however he wished. It was a miracle he hadn’t done something like that before now. Maybe they really had needed someone to look after the kids, but now that they were getting older, she’d have to earn her keep some other way.
She’d rather die than become a sex slave for Michael and his cronies.
The shower turned on once again, and Cassidy flinched.
“It’s okay,” Leo said, and she felt his hard body—his fully clothed body—against her back. He’d turned on the shower to make it seem as if they were having sex in there. He put an arm diagonally around her chest and rested his chin on her shoulder, much as he had the day before. He didn’t say anything, just held her as the room filled with steam from the shower. Eventually, she relaxed against him until he was practically holding her up.
“I want to go home,” she whispered.
“And I’m gonna get you there,” he told her. “You just gotta trust me.”
“I do.”
Leo was the first ray of hope she’d had in years, but she’d learned the hard way that the only person she could really count on was herself. She closed her eyes and prayed that Leo wouldn’t let her down. She wanted her life back, and more importantly, she wanted Mario to be free. To be an eleven-year-old kid whose biggest worries were things like getting a pair of the most popular shoes and what she was making for dinner.
Gramps had put off his meeting with Coke for another four hours. He’d holed up in Cassidy’s room with her, trying to distract her. Keeping their backs to the cameras and the music on loud enough that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard, they’d talked about mutual acquaintances in El Paso, and she’d told him funny stories about Mario.
He’d brought them into the bathroom more than once to make anyone watching think he was fucking her behind the door. Gramps hated doing so, however, because it was degrading to Cassidy. She’d taken it in stride, telling him that she’d do whatever it took to help him with his mission.
He wanted to stay in the room with her all day, keeping her safe, but he needed to meet with Coke. Move the mission forward. Mario being taken outside the mansion walls was the first step. He’d hoped that would happen. Now Gramps had no doubt that Smoke would be on the boy, that he’d do what needed to be done.
The ball was in motion, and Gramps had to pick it up and run with it.
He left Cassidy in her room. She’d wanted to come with him, but Gramps knew it would be safer if she stayed put. He didn’t want Lloyd’s men to come to the conclusion, now that she’d been with him, that she was fair game for anyone else who wanted a shot.
Martin had appeared seemingly out of nowhere within seconds of Gramps stepping outside of Cassidy’s room. He’d obviously been waiting and watching for him.
“You must be hungry,” he told Gramps. “I’ve been instructed to escort you to the boss’s office, and to see what you might like to eat. I can bring it to you.”
“Surprise me,” Gramps said. “Something Jamaican. Your native food is delicious.”
Martin nodded and gestured for Gramps to precede him down the hall.
Despite not liking having the man at his back, Gramps strode forward as if he wasn’t in a hurry. They arrived at Coke’s office door, and Martin knocked once. Without waiting for a response, he opened it, and Gramps walked in.
Coke was sitting behind his desk, his hands steepled under his chin, as if deep in thought. He didn’t bother to stand when Gramps entered.
The door shut behind them, and instead of sitting in the chair directly in front of the desk, Gramps strolled around the room, as if this was a social visit. He examined the books on the shelves and opened the liquor cabinet, not surprised to see it well stocked with Jamaican rum and not much else. He ran a finger over the globe in the corner, sending it spinning.
“You’re a cocky son of a bitch,” Coke observed.
Gramps merely shrugged. “I’m feeling mellow,” he said after a moment. “Courtesy of the fine piece of ass you gave me to enjoy.”
“So you succeeded in making her want you, huh?” Coke asked.
Gramps nodded smugly. “I might’ve needed a little help, but yes.” He saw the look of curiosity in the other man’s eyes before he pretended to be bored once again.
“A little help?” Coke couldn’t help but ask.
“Yeah. I told you earlier that I didn’t care much for unwilling women, and I wasn’t lying. But giving them a bit of help to calm down? To jump-start their libido? To keep them going all night? Yeah, that I’m not opposed to.”
“Molly?” Coke asked.
He was referring to MDMA, or ecstasy. Gramps nodded. “The serotonin triggers their hormones and makes chicks beg for cock. It also makes them trust more easily. Putty in my hands,” Gramps said with a grin.
“That why you’re just now comin’ out of her room?” Coke asked.
Gramps knew the man had been keeping tabs on him. If he hadn’t already known for sure, his hunch would’ve just been confirmed. “Woulda stayed longer. Appreciate you taking the brat out of the picture, but I wanted to respect you and your time,” Gramps simpered.
“I don’t want to get between a man and his pussy,” Coke said.
“Business is more important,” Gramps said, playing his part.
Coke nodded respectfully at him. His body language said he’d lost some of the stiffness and distrust he’d had when Gramps had first entered the room. He stood up from behind the desk and headed for the liquor cabinet. “Drink?”
“Of course,” Gramps said. He needed to play this smart. The last thing he wanted to do was get drunk before negotiations, but given his plans for later . . . Coke was playing right into his hands.
The drug kingpin poured two shots of rum and settled on the leather couch. Gramps sat on the other end.