“And your stupidity made you sloppy.” Marco shows me exactly how sloppy with a barrage of fists to my face and a series of kicks to my midsection. “Or are you confused as to why you’re down here?”
“I thought I was down here because you needed a punching bag.” My flippant reply makes his anger flare. I have a sense very few people talk back to him and live to tell about it.
It’s just a body.
I hope one of Mitzy’s three drones stayed in here. We couldn’t get more of a confession than that.
It’s been a long, hard road getting to this point.
Alpha team has definitely worked our asses off to snuff out this particular organization, and I don’t use that word lightly.
Human trafficking is the least of Marco’s crimes.
He’s the leader of the operation responsible for not only the kidnapping of innocent women, but orchestrating disgusting snuff films, which took far too many lives.
“Who do you work for?” Marco clocks me in the jaw, snapping my head violently to the left.
My teeth chomp down, taking another chunk out of my inner cheek. Spit and blood spray in an arc upward.
I’m beginning to see how those stains got on the ceiling.
My answer is a sloppy grin.
“What do you know about my organization?” He shakes out his fists. Marco’s sweating with his exertion. That says a lot. I have a feeling Marco isn’t generally this one-on-one when it comes to torture.
Reverting to the shrug, it’s almost time to expand my repertoire of responses.
I’d wipe the blood from my chin, but my hands remain tight behind my back. My shoulders ache—ah, the joys of a stress position—and I roll my ankles, making sure to circulate blood to my feet. Eventually, they’ll go numb, which will make it difficult to stand.
“Marco, please …” Maria pleads from the far side of the room. “Stop.”
My gaze cuts to Maria, begging her to remain silent. She was doing so well, practically ignored in the corner. She’ll only make things worse if she draws attention to herself.
I won’t let that happen.
Marco spins, delivering another devastating roundhouse kick that sends me and the chair careening back to the floor. I land hard on my shoulder and barely keep my head from smacking the concrete floor. Marco’s goons lift me back into position.
“Who are you working with?” Marco does a bit more tenderizing with his fists.
I brace for each blow, but he’s a strong man, packed solid with muscle. His blows sting.
My lip swells, split from the heavy ring on his finger. The inside of my cheeks bleed from multiple cuts. My left eye waters, forcing me to blink to clear my vision. That ring on Marco’s finger cuts my forehead, sending blood streaming down my temple.
I hack and spit and blink, then hack and spit some more. Meanwhile, Marco fires off question after question. His frustration rises with my stoic silence.
“Are you with the men who rescued Sybil?” Whatever he’s going to say is cut off when his attention suddenly shifts to Maria’s mother.
“The men who what?” Muriel screeches at Marco.
Did Marco forget to tell Muriel about Sybil?
This just got interesting.
“She was to be mine.” Muriel’s eyes burn as a murderous rage overcomes her. “You promised. Now, she’s gone.” She launches at Marco.
Muriel is a mess of arms and legs as she throws herself at him, clinging to his body. Interestingly, the two goons beside me make no move to intervene.
Fingers scratch at his face and pull at his hair. Dark clumps fall to the floor. Damn, the woman is bat-shit crazy. Marco barely reacts. He holds his arms out to the side as she clings to him. Then with a breath in, and a breath out, he calmly lifts her off his chest and slams her down on the floor.
Muriel jumps to her feet and seethes as Marco holds out his hand.
“Don’t push me. I’m not in the mood.”
Using my reprieve from Marco’s fists, I process what I see. None of it makes sense.
Marco dusts off his shirt and spins toward me.
“Enough with this. You start talking or …” Marco walks in a slow circle around me, then draws a wicked blade.
I spit out another wad of blood and give him the Or what look. To my horror, Marco turns toward Maria.
Fuck.
49
MARIA
My uncle beats the hell out of Liam.
Liam’s face is a mess of bruises. A cut to his temple bleeds freely. His left eye swells along with a cut over the curve of his cheekbone. His mouth is full of blood. Every time he opens it to say something, he has to spit on the floor first.
There’s a lot of blood on that floor.
I stand against the far wall, as far from the door, and escape, as possible.
Not my choice.
It’s where I was put and where I stay. I hug the wall and cringe while Marco lands blow after blow.
Marco’s men watch Liam, holding him down when necessary, but they keep their eyes on me.
Liam and Marco go another round. Liam says something. Suddenly, Marco turns toward me, dark eyes swirling with hatred.
It’s terrifying.
But that’s not what makes me suck in a breath.
The curved blade in his hand makes my entire body quiver with fear, even more so when he takes a step toward me.
Well, shit.
Liam goes crazy, bucking in the chair, thrashing as he tries to free himself. The two men beside him hold him down.
“The girl knows nothing.” Liam spits blood. “She’s nothing more than my ticket in.”
“You sure about that?” Marco spins back around. “Looks like she’s a bit more than that.”
“She led me straight to you.” Liam spits again. “Gullible little girl. Easy to fool. Easy to fuck. Bad in bed.”
The words hurt.
Although, I understand what Liam’s doing.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop Marco.
“You’ve been nothing but an annoyance since the day you drew your first breath.” He closes the distance while I prepare to fight for my life.
What can I do?
How can I help Liam?
I take a step away from the wall and focus on what my self-defense instructor taught me. I’ve got seconds before Marco closes the distance. I don’t like that knife.
During practice, we duct-taped my wrists to protect my skin. What I’m about to do can cut deep, but I’d rather slice my wrists than face Marco and that knife with my hands tied together.
The first thing is counterintuitive.
I bring my wrists up to my mouth. Keeping the locking bar in the middle of my wrists, I bite down on the free end of the zip tie and tighten it down until it’s tight enough to cut off the circulation to my hands.
Next, I reach overhead. Finally, I chop down violently toward my waist, imagining my shoulder blades touching as the zip tie snaps under the sudden stress.
My fingers curl as I remember another lesson my instructors taught. Like I told Liam, I’m proficient in self-defense.
Marco should know this, but he’s cocky. He’s enraged. All he sees is a woman much smaller than him.
With nowhere to go, I take another step away from the wall and move toward him.
His face twists into a grimace as hatred thunders through his body. Madness swims in his eyes; a terrifying darkness I face all on my own.