Page 13

T hree days.

The man has left me in this room alone for three days.

He’s been nice enough to send staff in with food every few hours, and plenty of it, and it’s all been beyond delicious. But that’s beside the point.

He let that doctor drug me and then just left me here.

I haven’t even seen him, not that I want to see him. He’s not bad to look at, but it’s hard to demand your release when your captor refuses to come around.

Well, today is the day I’m getting the hell out of here. I’ve missed work, so who knows if I even have a job now. And Marco is going to come looking for me soon.

I have nothing to offer him. Dread fills me at the thought of our next conversation, but before it consumes me and freezes me up, I have to act right now.

Enough is enough. I’ve never been one to just sit around and wait for someone to come save me.

No one’s coming. Life has been a cruel teacher, stealing away my father when I was only twelve and then slowly dragging my mother to her grave when the ink on my high school diploma was still wet. But I’ve learned my lesson well.

I’m on my own, and that means saving myself.

Finding my bag in the closet, I dig out a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt and get dressed. I throw open the bedroom door, ready to fight whatever guard is sitting outside.

There’s no one.

I’d just assumed Alexander would have someone posted outside the room, and with my ankle being in such bad shape for the past few days, I hadn’t exactly been able to make a run for it.

With my bag strapped over my shoulder, I march as confidently as I can down the hall to the wide winding staircase that he’d carried me up days ago. Stopping every few steps to listen for voices, I get down them as quickly as I can.

“What are you doing?” Alexander’s voice hits me as soon as I’m in the foyer. The front door is right there. Only a few more steps.

I drag in a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back and throwing my chin up as I turn to face him.

“I’m going home. Enough is enough. I have a job, hopefully, and a life.” And an entirely different mob boss to placate in order to keep Mira and myself alive.

I shift my weight to my left foot. Even with the swelling down and the pain only a slight dull ache, I don’t want to take any chances on making it worse.

Alexander is dressed in a pair of black slacks with a black button-down shirt tucked into them. His belt hugs his hips, and for a moment I can feel the heaviness of it on my neck again. I have to stop myself from reaching up to touch the skin there.

He hooks his hands on his hips and stares at me, his jaw getting tighter by the moment. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the dark tattoos covering his forearms.

“You’re right.” He gives a curt nod, making his way to me. “Enough is enough.”

I’m barely able to register his movements as he grabs my bag from me and tosses it to the ground.

“This way.” He cups my elbow and urges me along with him.

“Alexander.” I try to tug away from him, but he tightens his grip. “What are you doing? Let me go.”

“I’m going to show you something, Megan.” He brings me down one hallway, then another and another. This place is an absolute maze. I’m completely turned around by the time he brings me to a door.

He has to unlock it with a key before opening it, then gestures for me to climb down the stairs ahead of him.

I give a little shake of my head. It’s dark down there, and that door had been locked. How do I know he’s not going to just lock me away since I’m not giving up on leaving?

His heavy sigh blows through my hair as he leans over me to hit the light switch. The stairwell illuminates and there’s a dim glow at the bottom.

“Go.” He nudges my back when I still stand frozen.

I don’t really have a choice. I know that. He’ll just drag me down there if he wants me there.

Slowly, I climb down the wooden steps into a basement. The door shuts behind me with a clank. It sounds more like a jail cell slamming than an ordinary basement door. I pause to look back over my shoulder. He’s right there, coming with me.

“To the left,” he says when I reach the bottom and can step in two directions.

Another light flickers on as I take cautious steps over the cement floor. Air whooshes from my lungs.

It’s just a basement. Boxes stashed on shelves line the outer wall. The musty smell from years of storage fills the room.

“Down here.” He guides me with his hand on the small of my back when we reach another hallway.

There’s another locked door that we move through. The hallway narrows, like we’re in a passageway between buildings or something instead of his basement. It’s colder in here. I don’t think we’re in any part of his house anymore.

A chill runs over my skin when we come to another door. Unlike the other typical wooden doors, this one is made of steel. There are three locks on it, and a deadbolt.

“Wait.” I grab on to his wrist when he goes to slide the deadbolt open. “What’s… why are we down here?”

He ignores my question and slides the lock open. The metal scraping against the bolt screeches in the dead silence of the passageway. I have to step back when he pulls the door open toward us. It’s thick, almost like a vault door.

There’s nothing but darkness inside, yet goosebumps cover my arms and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Evil happens here, and I don’t need a light to show me that.

“Go on in.” He flips a light switch on the outside of the room, lighting up the room. It’s empty. “Megan. Go. Inside.”

“I don’t want to,” I whisper. Fear keeps my feet planted. If I go in there, I might not come out.

His warm touch to the back of my neck does little to melt the icy terror in control of my thoughts.

“I thought I made it clear already, but let me explain again. I don’t care what you want.” There’s a sharp edge to his tone, like I’ve pushed him far enough.

With small, hesitant steps, I make my way inside the room.

Just like the tower room he had me in that first night, this room is completely round. The walls are cement and painted a dull gray, the floor the same. Except this room has what that one didn’t.

A hook dangles from the ceiling in the center, and below that a drain in the floor.

I jump away from the grate and hurry to a wall, pressing my back to the cold cement.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Alexander prowls around the room, his pace unhurried until he stops in front of me. He plants his arms on either side of me, caging me against the wall.

He left the door open, but it doesn’t matter. Even if I manage to slip out before he catches me, the front door is too far. I’d never make it—not with the soreness still lingering in my ankle.

“It’s time you answer some questions, Megan.”

“I already told you what I know.” My voice trembles and I hate it. I hate how easily the darkness in his eyes can make me question my strength.

“Not about Dexter.” His brow wrinkles. “I want to know about Marco DeAngelo. Why do you owe him so much money?”

Of course he does. Marco works within an entirely different family. Anything Alexander can use against him would probably come in handy for when they do whatever they do.

“I can handle Marco on my own,” I tell him.

His lips curl inward.

“No. You can’t.” He leans closer. “Megan, do you know what happens in this room?”

“Nothing good,” I answer.

The metal hook, like the ones butchers use to hang a side of beef, dangles just behind him. I may not know the details of Alexander’s business, but I can imagine well enough what they do to people in here.

“Not for the people I leave in here, no.” His touch is light as he pushes my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I’m going to ask you again, why do you owe Marco DeAngelo money?”

I’m locked in his gaze. It’s like a weight pulling me down and I’m too tired to struggle against it.

He’ll keep me here until I tell him. Maybe he will lock me in here; maybe he’ll hang me from that hook and do horrible things to me.

If he finds out about Mira, he could send his henchmen to find her, and it could be her hanging from the hook. He can use her against Marco. Or he could hand her over to Marco in exchange for some territory deal.

I wish I understood his world better, then I could prepare for all possible scenarios and play this game better. All I know is he’s not some knight in shining armor. He’s all power and dominance. He wears danger in the same manner most men wear aftershave.

“Mira owes the money,” I finally say. “My roommate.”

“Then why are you making payments to him? Where is she?”

“She’s out of town.” I take a small breath. “She sends me money, and I pay Marco.”

He searches my face, like he’s not sure if he should believe me or not.

“There’s more. What is it?” he questions, his eyes roaming over my face and neck. “Why are you covering for her?”

All I can do is hope the high collar of my sweater will cover any physical tells. I’m not lying, but I’m not giving him everything. I may not know how to play these games as well as he does, but I know enough to keep a few cards close to my chest.

“Because she’s my family,” I explain in terms he can understand. “I would do anything to keep her safe, to help her when she needs it. And she’d do the same for me.”

He’s a big player in the mafia; words like family and loyalty mean something to him. Even if words like legal and morality don’t.

His jaw tightens. “You put yourself in the middle of a mess that wasn’t yours and made it your own.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same for your brothers?” I turn the tables on him.

“Where is Mira now?”

I swallow. Good question. I wish I could answer him.

“Megan?” His voice gets hard. “Where is she?”

“She’s safe,” I say confidently. “So long as the payments keep being made, she’ll stay safe. Marco says he can find her if he wants to. You guys seem to have a lot of resources behind you.”

His left eyebrow arches.

“Don’t put me in the same group as that bastard.” He’s offended?

The man has me pinned to a wall in his torture chamber!

“Alexander, I have to go home. I have to find some way to get Marco to give me an extension, and I have to beg for my job back if I’ve lost it.” I pause. “Because of you!”

He shakes his head.

“Yes, you! If you would have just left me alone, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“I’m not leaving you alone, and I’m sure as hell not letting you meet up with Marco to discuss anything.” He pushes off the wall and takes two steps back. “I’ll take care of Marco.”

“Take care of him how?” Not that the world would be worse off if Marco wasn’t in it, but I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of gangsters opening fire on each other in the streets. Too many innocent people could get hurt.

“That’s not your concern.”

“Then I’ll owe the money to you?”

It’s just a number in a new ledger, if I let him do this. I’m not any freer. Mira won’t be any safer. If she would just get in touch with me, we could figure out what to do next.

“There’s a bigger problem at hand,” he says.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dexter Thompson was murdered. And whoever sent you to get that drive is most likely behind it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to know. I’m not involved in any of that.”

“Oh, but you are, Megan.” He steps forward. “Until we find out exactly who did it and why, you’re in danger.”

“Why would I be in danger?” So long as Marco gets his money, I’m safe from him. Mira can stay safe.

“Because you didn’t get the drive to them. And you’re the only link to them that’s still alive, that we know of.”

My heart slams into my ribs. “So, you think they’ll come after me?”

“You’re definitely a loose end.” He nods.

“So, you’re not going to let me go home?” I glance at the door. There’s still no hope of me getting out of here without his approval.

“No, Megan.” He steps in front of me, blocking me again. “I’m not letting you go home.”

The back of his knuckles runs along my cheekbone. “And if you try to run again, this will be your new room.”

There’s a chill to his tone, just cold enough for me to know he means what he says. Alexander doesn’t make idle threats.

“All right,” I say as though I have some choice in this. “But my job.”

He closes his eyes as though he needs a moment to calm himself.

“Your only job right now is to go back up to our room and rest that ankle. It’s still bothering you. I can tell.”

“Our room?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“But you weren’t— You haven’t been sleeping in there, have you?” Every night I was alone and when I woke up, I was alone.

He cocks a grin.

“No, I haven’t been. But that changes tonight.” He makes a point of looking me over. “Now that I know you’re feeling better.”

“But…”

“We can talk over the terms of your new loan then.”