The room is cloaked by darkness—in more ways than one—but I can tell the exact moment the ugliest of my past rears its horrid head. The dark-haired man’s discovery of my two-inch scar screws up the face of the elderly man behind him. He looks sickened like I’m suddenly as ugly as I feel.
I’d rather his disgust over the gleam his eyes held when they first landed on my face. Even someone with the purity of a saint couldn’t have mistaken the longing in his heavy-hooded gaze.
I glance over the stranger’s shoulder when the man behind him says, “You seem to have caught the eye of my son. I’m not surprised. He has quite the fascination for redheads.” The man I’m guessing to be mid-sixties places himself between his son and me. His strut is as vile as the amused smirk on his face. “Is she one of yours, son? A little plaything for the night?”
My throat aches to release a frustrated scream when the man whose eyes seem oddly familiar mutters, “I forgot I ordered her. What can I say? The schedule of women coming and going from my life every week often gets confusing.”
Everyone laughs except me. I know he’s lying, but I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. He’s a little hard for me to read. He seems to be protecting me, but there’s an undeniable amount of anger radiating from him. It’s as if he’s torn between wanting to soothe my panic or double it.
I stop seeking answers in his beautifully tormented eyes when the man with the gun points it at my head. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to find another plaything for the night. This one knows too much.”
I shake my head, assuring him I know nothing. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw.” I shakily cross my heart. “I swear to God.”
“God can’t help you now.” He smiles a grin you should only ever see in hell. “But be sure to tell him I said hello.”
I don’t breathe for a second when he curls his finger around the trigger for the second time. His expression is so impassive. He shows no emotion whatsoever.
I can’t cite the same thing.
The lady at the makeup stand lied earlier today. The mascara I paid twenty-two dollars for isn’t waterproof. I can’t see my cheeks, but I can feel the big black smears rolling down them. They’re mixed with the saltiness of my tears, but the chunkiness that comes from applying three generous coats of mascara is highly obvious.
I stormed in here feeling as brave as a soldier.
Now I’m on the verge of peeing my pants.
That makes me ashamed of myself.
“Do it. Kill me.” I step up to the man until the barrel of his gun digs into a dress too thin for this time of year. It makes the shudders reeking with my body more apparent, but has me proud I won’t die a coward. “Put me out of my misery once and for all.”
“Do you want to die, little girl?” asks the man with a thick Italian accent.
“No,” I answer with a shake of my head. “But I’m not going to beg for my life to be spared. That would have me dying a coward. I’d rather die than be seen as weak.” My words are strong, however my composure is anything but. I’m shaking so much, the black blobs rolling down my face quiver in the panted breaths when they cling to my top lip.
“You should be happy you made it this far. Usually, I would have shot you in the back.” He shrugs like killing is something he does every day before he raises his gun to my head. “A change-up is as good as a holiday. I can see your eyes now.”
I’m at a loss as to what he means, but his son has no issues understanding him. He grabs the barrel of his gun in an instant, shocking me so much my eyes bulge. “Let me.” His voice is extra deep like his cock is hard just from the thought of killing me. I’m not surprised. He seems like a man who gets off on danger. “It’s my fault she’s here, so it’s my responsibility to clean up the mess.” When his father hesitates, the stranger adds more authenticity to his assurance. “Then I can get my money’s worth during our trip to the woods. I paid good money for her, so I plan to find out if she was worth her price tag.”
His father smiles a wickedly evil grin that has my stomach flipping even with him weakening his clutch on the trigger of his gun. “I understand your interest. She has such a feisty spark.” My chest labors through a challenging breath when he angles his torso to face his son. He isn’t peering at him in a loving manner. It’s as if their family has as many issues as mine. “She reminds me a lot of your wife.” He assesses his son’s face for a response. Like he’s hopeful his words will hurt him. “Is that what has you so fascinated, son? Or are you looking for a cunt to keep your dick warm for the night? Or a replacement spouse?”
“A man has needs.” Even not knowing the dark-haired man, I’m confident in saying he’s exuding mammoth self-restraint. His dipping tone is indicating enough, much less how white his knuckles are. His hands are balled so tight, even if his father were to yank back the trigger, the bullet wouldn’t make it through the barrel. That’s how fierce his grip is. “I had them long before I married, and I still have them now.” His eyes are deadly, tainted with hate. “Do you have an issue with that?”
The tension in the room turns roasting. It hisses and crackles in the air even more than the energy that teems through me when the gray-haired man lowers his gun two heart-thrashing seconds later. “Fine. Do with her what you may, but be sure to have it done by sun-up.”
Vomit scorches my throat when he fills the gap his gun no longer takes up. I never understood the term ‘skin-crawling’ until now. My skin does precisely that when he runs the back of his hand down my mascara-stained cheeks. If there weren’t so much evil in his eyes, I could have mistaken his gesture as kindness. It’s almost gentle, in a psychotic, mass-murderer type of way.
“Just don’t be too gentle with her. I want to hear all about her screams.” He waits for his son to dip his chin before he sidesteps me and exits the gloomy room.
I think I’m clear of danger.
It was silly of me to ever believe.
The door has barely banged closed when a white cloth is pressed over my mouth and nose. The scent vaping off it bombards me with horrendous nausea in less than a nanosecond, and even quicker than that, I black out.
Chapter Twelve
Dimitri
I hold my finger in the air, cutting off the scorn I see in Rocco’s eyes before he can deliver. My mood is teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff. I’m the most unhinged I’ve ever been. Now is not the time for him to lecture me. I know what I saw, I know who Roxanne is, and I plan to make sure she takes responsibility for the death of my wife.
I knew I had seen her mesmerizing green eyes before. The change in her hair coloring and the maturity of her looks threw me off the scent for over a year, but there’s no denying them now.
Her mascara stained-face is undeniable.
When she stood across from me minutes ago, riling my father like he wouldn’t gut her where she stood, it felt as if I had stepped back in time. I was once again entrapped by her beauty, stunned she could emanate such appeal on her darkest day.
Roxanne was the woman standing on the corner of the restaurant Audrey was kidnapped from. The woman I gawked at for so long, I didn’t see my enemies creeping up on me until it was too late. She’s the reason Audrey is dead and the cause of me not laying eyes on my daughter in person since she was born. Now she must pay the penance for her stupidity.