Page 67 of Hearts Held

Chapter 19: Brielle

Fuck You, Silent Child

All I can hear is the hauntingclickof the lock.

The man begins slowly stalking toward me, a devious grin from ear to ear. His once slicked-black hair became disheveled as he shoved me into the room, the thin mustache partnered with his devious grin producing the disturbing vision of a madman.

I look around the room to see if there are any items I could use as a weapon.

“Oh, darlin’, we are only going to have a good time. Don’t look so grim,” he states, swiping his bottom lip with one thumb.

The room doesn’t have much to it—a bed, bedside tables, a small lamp and a lounge chair in thecorner.

“Don’t come near me. I don’t want this,” I boldly state, mustering as much confidence within my soul as I can to confront this man.

“Oh, but you do. Every woman does. Plus, it is what you are paid to do, so I will do whatever I want withyou.”

Chapter 20: Everett

You’re Going Down, Sick Puppies

I cross the makeshift dance floor, my eyes roaming every surface of the hotel ballroom trying to find Brielle.

One breath in, one breath out.

Bobby comes up to me, frantic. “I can’t find her, Everett, but someone said they saw a woman looking like her, same dress and hairpiece, dragged down the hall by Giorgio, the Giorgio, Sabini’s boy.”

Blood rushes to my ears as the anger bubbles inside.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I utter slowly.

Bobby looks concerned but ready to start a fight. He begins to take off his suit jacket as he states, “You heard what I said, and if he has her, you know what he isgonna do to her, and you know she ain’t going with him willingly—”

I cut him off. “I fucking know.” My lips curl into a sneer as I growl at him. My control is beginning to slip at the thought of Giorgio and Brielle.

My steps are purposeful as I stride toward the far end of the ballroom and the hallway leading to the hotel rooms.

I begin to loosen the black tie around my neck and wrap one side around my knuckles.

“Are you sure they are on the first floor?” I calmly ask as a storm rages inside the vessel of my body.

“Biscuit spoke to some broad that said they saw a woman like Brielle, held by the hair and dragged past the elevators.” Bobby’s hand shifts inside his suit pocket, searching for a hidden weapon.

Fuck a truce. Fuck peace. Fuck business.

Before I get close to the elevators and the hallway to the rooms, I am stopped by a slinky, slender woman, her hair greased and in finger waves, smoking a long cigarette.

Seraphina.

“Where d’you think you’re going, boys? Someone needs to dance with me,” she drunkenly states, trying to roam her free hand across my chest, but I grab it before it makes contact.

“We’re busy. Find someone else.” As I try to move away from her, she comes to stand in front of us again.

“Oohhh, is someone pissed theirwhorewanted an Italian stallion? No one would wantyou, you stin-hiccup-gy, piece of—” Before she can utter another word, Bobby shoves her to the side and starts stomping down the hallway.

We try to listen at each door, though the slow passage of time is speeding up my anxiety and there are nearly twenty rooms to review.

“Start here. I’ll start at the end of the hall and work our way down.” I run toward the end of the hallway, feeling the push of carpet under my feet.