Page 7

Chapter 6

Because I’m about to fuck some shit up.

I wasn’t sure why, but those words calmed me just a bit. They probably shouldn’t have. Fuck some shit up. What did that even mean?

I was fully aware that this man was likely the one who had purchased me— and how messed up is that? —but I wasn’t afraid of him. That was likely stupid on my part because he looked dangerous.

Dark hair swept back from his forehead to reveal brown eyes and high cheekbones. He was model pretty with a perfectly proportioned face—other than his nose, which was slightly crooked from being broken. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the white cuffs of his shirtsleeves.

Everything about him screamed danger, including the… oh shit .

The man pulled a black gun with a long tube on the barrel from behind him, and I knew from all the action movies I’d watched with Monty that the tube thing was a silencer. I took a step back, unsure of where the hell I thought I was going to run, but he gave me a sharp shake of his head.

“I’m going to get you out of here and back to your family.”

When he whispered those words, realization sunk in, and my knees almost buckled in relief. This guy didn’t buy me; he was here to rescue me! He was probably an undercover agent with the FBI. Or was it the CIA? Whoever the hell it was that handled international incidents.

Holding my hand with his free one, he nodded toward my shoes in a silent reminder. I slipped them off, making me have to crane my neck to look up at him. This guy was super tall, and I knew the gray pinstriped suit he wore must be custom made. I’d grown up in the fashion industry, after all, and I knew suits.

“What do I call you?” I asked in a quiet voice.

After a brief hesitation, he said, “Damiano.”

“Okay, Agent Damiano. What’s the plan?”

His chin jerked back, and a slight smile curled his lips upward, revealing a flash of white teeth. “Just stay behind me and run when I tell you to.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, moving to stand between me and the door as he called, “We’re done in here.” His right hand, the one holding the gun, was hidden behind his thigh.

Prick one and prick two reentered the room, and Ethan rubbed his hands together like a greedy pig. “I’m assuming everything is satisfactory? Ready to make the transaction?”

“Actually, no. My property has been damaged, and I want a discount.”

Property? Ah, hell naw! I was about to lift my leg to knee him in the ass when his left hand reached back and found mine, giving it a gentle squeeze of warning. So I kept my mouth shut and my knee down. For now.

“There are no fucking discounts,” Felipe snapped. “You agreed to seven million, and you’re not leaving here with the girl unless you pay every penny.”

Seven million? As in dollars? The implications of why someone would pay that kind of money was daunting. And scary as hell.

Agent Damiano let out a low chuckle. “I wasn’t thinking of monetary compensation. I had… something else in mind.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Ethan sneered. God, I hated the sound of his whiny voice.

The agent tilted his dark head a bit to the right. “Your lives aren’t worth much to me, but I guess they’ll have to do.” I was aware of his right arm swinging up and then a muffled pew pew sound, followed by two thunks.

What the actual hell? Did he just…

Peering around him, I saw that my suspicion was confirmed. He’d shot Felipe and Ethan. Like, shot them! Dead!

“Y-you… they’re…” I stammered. I wasn’t sad that they were dead. They were both horrible people who had been nothing but cruel to me, but I was shocked to my core.

“Dead, yeah,” he grunted, pulling me across the room by my hand. It only took a couple strides because the space was minuscule. Damiano paused and looked down at my bare feet only inches from the blood that was pooling and spreading from the bodies. “Don’t look at them. Just close your eyes.”

I did and then almost screamed when my feet left the floor, but I managed to clamp my lips together to contain it. The man had just casually tossed me over his shoulder and was carrying me. My body bumped against his as he moved swiftly, and a few seconds later, I was back on my feet in the threadbare living room I’d passed through hours earlier.

“Stay behind me,” Agent Damiano ordered, and I gladly complied. After all, he was a trained professional. I had to jog to keep up with his long strides as we passed through the other hallway, and then we stepped through an open door. The room was set up like the one I’d been kept in, with only a mattress on the floor and a nightstand, and I wondered if one of the other women had been kept here.

“What are we doing?” I hissed quietly.

Damiano leaned forward, his lips to my ear. “Stay in here while I take care of the guard.”

I was pretty sure I knew what he meant by take care of the guard , but I didn’t want to think too much about that. Freedom was within my grasp, close enough I could smell it. Or maybe that was my body odor since they hadn’t allowed me to shower since I’d been taken. Was that yesterday? The day before? The timeline was fuzzy in my head.

He backed out of the room, closing the door silently behind him, and I rubbed my hands up and down my bare arms, suddenly chilled now that I was alone. Muffled voices carried from the back door.

“You need help getting the money out of your car?” That must be the guard.

“Actually, Ethan asked me to come get you. He said he needs to talk to you about something.”

Lumbering footsteps plodded against the floor outside the room I was standing in. “Huh. What’s he need?”

“Not sure. He’s in this room.”

I had a moment of panic, thinking he was going to bring the guard in here, but I calmed once I heard them enter the room across the hall from me. Though I knew it was coming, I startled at the muffled gunshot and the subsequent sound of the guard’s heavy body hitting the floor.

Jesus, how is this my life? It was like I was in a movie. Kidnappings and shootings and big, dark strangers coming to the rescue.

My breath stalled in my lungs when the door opened, suddenly afraid Damiano was the one who’d been shot and the guard was coming for me. But it was the agent in question who opened the door and gestured for me to follow him. He’d thankfully closed the door across the hall so I didn’t have to see yet another dead body tonight. Nope. I’d seen enough corpses in the past ten minutes to last me a lifetime.

“Come on, Evie. It’s safe now.”

Safe. It was a single syllable, but after what I’d been through, it was the most profound word I think I’d ever heard in my life. My throat burned with so many emotions as we exited the house into the muggy night. Free. I’m free. And that was synonymous with safe in my mind.

I gritted away the tears threatening to spill down my face and limped toward the black sedan parked behind the house. Both of my knees were skinned from my fall when I’d stupidly tried to run with my legs shackled, but the left one seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact. It hurt like hell.

Damiano opened the passenger door for me, his eyes darting around before he went back to the porch and retrieved something from the wooden box there. Another gun.

“You’re awfully shooty,” I told him when he slid into the driver's seat, and he glanced over at me in bemusement.

“I’m shooty ?”

God, what am I saying? This man just rescued me from the most horrible fate I could have imagined, and all I could come up with was: You’re awfully shooty ?

I hastily corrected myself. “Not that I’m complaining. At all. I’m just not used to…” My voice shook, and I pressed my lips together to try and get myself under control. “Thank you,” I whispered, meeting his brown eyes in the darkness.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, turning away and starting the vehicle. “You were limping. Do you need a doctor?”

“N-no. Just some scrapes.” The reality of being free was starting to sink in, and my hands began to shake, so I stuffed them beneath my thighs. “Can I use your phone to call my family?”

He glanced over at me before circling the car around and pulling up to an iron gate. “Not tonight. We have to get to the safe house.”

I tried to cover my disappointment. All I wanted was to talk to my dad and my brothers. Hell, I’d even like to speak to my bitchy mother at this point. Anyone from home. My nerves settled at yet another four letter word: home .

Safe. Free.

Home.

My eyes darted around as we pulled out onto a quiet street. “Where are we? Not still in Cancún, right?” We’d driven for a long time, me and the other girls practically suffocating in the narrow space in the back of that truck. Just the thought of it almost gave me a panic attack.

Damiano’s full lips pulled up on one side. “No, New Orleans.”

More relief flooded my veins. I was back in the United States. “Is it okay if I open the window? I want to breathe the outside air.”

“Of course,” he said, and I pressed the button to lower my window a few inches, closing my eyes and taking in the scent of freedom. And something sweet. Probably beignets. My stomach growled in response.

A few minutes later, I opened my eyes when I felt the car slow and turn. We were in the parking lot of a fast-food burger place. My stomach came to life once again, making a noise like an angry bear.

“Burger and fries okay?” the man beside me asked, and I’d never felt more grateful. I seriously could have kissed him just then.

“Yes, please.” I gestured at my very skimpy dress. “I obviously don’t have any cash on me.”

He shook his head as he pulled up to the speaker and rolled down his window. “Don’t worry about that. What do you want to drink?”

“Dr Pepper.” Juliette was a fiend for that soda, and she’d gotten me hooked on it when I moved to Texas. “Actually, I probably need to drink some water instead. I haven’t had any in… I don’t know… a long time.”

“Can I take your order?” a tinny voice said from the speaker.

Damiano leaned to his left. “I want the burger combo with a Dr Pepper and also two glasses of ice water.”

Five minutes later, I had inhaled one glass of water and started on the hamburger. I didn’t give a damn about manners, ravenously eating like I’d never seen food before.

“Drink your other glass of water, and then you can have the soda,” Damiano informed me.

I glanced at the cup between his thighs. “I thought that was for you.”

“Nope, all for you.”

By the time we pulled onto a gravel driveway, I had scarfed down all the food and was sipping on the Dr Pepper. The sugary soda tasted so damn good on my tongue.

The frame house wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either, the nondescript gray exterior a bit weathered. A garage door lifted, and when Damiano pulled the sedan inside the bay, I saw a man standing beside the door that led into the house.

The garage door closed behind us, and my stomach turned over at the sense of being trapped.

“Who is that?” I breathed around the bile in my throat, cramming the soda cup into the drink holder so I could clasp my hands into tight fists in my lap.

“That’s Rodrigo.”

The man appeared to be in his sixties or seventies, and in the muted glow of the overhead light, I could see a jagged scar that bisected one eyebrow before snaking upward and into his hairline.

Rodrigo. The name meant nothing to me, but I figured he was another agent. As soon as Damiano rolled up my window, panic seized around my heart. I needed to be out of this vehicle. Now.

Scrambling for the door handle, I jumped from the car so quickly, I stumbled. Strong hands caught me, and I gazed up into a pair of hazel eyes. Despite his scar, Rodrigo’s face was kind, and I swallowed hard.

“Sorry,” I muttered, embarrassed. “I don’t like to be closed up.”

“It’s okay,” the older man said. “Let’s get you inside. The house is spacious.”

He was right. Entering through the door into a tidy kitchen, I noticed the open floor plan that bled into a small dining nook and then a living room. There was no television there, only a couch that had seen better days and an end table.

“Thank you, Agent Rodrigo,” I said, and a bemused smile turned the corners of his lips up, revealing a set of slightly crooked teeth.

“No problem. I’ve set you up in the middle bedroom.”

Damiano had followed us into the house, and he handed over the car keys to Rodrigo. “Let’s get Evie settled, and then I need you to run an errand for me.”

The man pocketed the key ring and nodded.

My bedroom was painted in a soft taupe, and a double bed rested in the center of the far wall. The bedcovers were a simple white and looked like something you’d see at a Hampton Inn or something.

“You have your own bathroom,” Rodrigo said, standing just inside the room and gesturing toward a wood paneled door.

Bathroom? Yes, please.

“I-I need a shower,” I stammered as the events of the past few days began weighing on me. I’d put on a brave face for as long as I could, but fuck . I was exhausted, and my nerves were frayed like an old rope.

Damiano’s hard face seemed to have relaxed slightly now that we were at the safe house, and he stepped forward and gently squeezed my upper arm.

“Take your time. I’m going to talk to Rod for a few minutes. I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I barely managed to say through the swelling in my throat. I wished I could think of something else to say. I owed this man way more than a simple thank you.

“I’ll leave the door cracked,” Damiano said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the knob until there was only a slit between the door and the frame. “You’re safe, okay?”

Those two small kindnesses—leaving the door slightly open and reminding me I was out of danger—almost broke me, but I managed to get a hold on it, my fingers pinching the extremely short hem of the slinky dress they’d made me wear. Slipping into the bathroom, I stripped the horrible garment off and threw it to the floor with force.

Fuck you, dress. And fuck you, Ethan and Felipe. Rot in hell.

I should probably feel bad about being glad they were dead, but I hadn’t asked for any of this… being taken, held captive, and sold. So no, I didn’t feel any remorse at the way they’d met their end.

Looking into the mirror over the white sink, I saw a woman who was bruised, scraped, and afraid, but she was also alive.

As soon as I turned on the shower to warm, my eyes let loose everything I’d been holding back, mimicking the spray from the shower head. Tears poured down my cheeks until I could barely see the towel rack beside the tub. Through the blur of my emotions, I located a dark-blue washcloth and stepped in beneath the hot water.

Oh my god. I’ve never been so happy for the gift of warm water.

With my hands pressed against the white fiberglass wall, my chest heaved with silent sobs as I watched the blood and grime slide from my body, become diluted, and make its way down the drain. I’d never felt more gross in my life.

The hot water stung the scrapes on my legs and hands, but that pain was a mere blip compared to the ache pulsing inside my heart. Rotating in a circle, I let the water wash over me before tilting my head back and wetting my hair as I cried to my heart’s content.

There was a small bottle of shampoo on the lip of the tub, and as soon as I got my hair lathered and rinsed, the food I’d eaten a few minutes ago revolted in my stomach. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I scampered out, naked and dripping, and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet.

Probably ate too fast after having virtually nothing for god knows how long, I thought as I emptied my guts into the porcelain bowl. When I was done, I pushed to my feet, suddenly more tired than I’d ever been in my life, and made my way back to the shower.

I used the rest of the shampoo and washed my hair again before applying conditioner and rinsing. Then I opened the small bar of soap, which looked like it was from a hotel, and went to work on my body with the washcloth, taking care around my injuries. I washed myself again and again until the soap was nothing but a slippery nub.

Lifting my face to the water, I let it wash away the rest of my tears, my hands clasped together beneath my chin in some kind of silent prayer of gratitude. I’m going to see my family tomorrow.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the shower, but it was a long time, and my bones ached with weariness when I finally stepped out and dried myself. My gaze flitted to the tiny black dress on the floor, and I decided I’d rather run around naked for the rest of my life than put on that vile piece of clothing ever again. It had barely covered my boobs and crotch.

There were plenty of towels in here, so I wrapped one around my wet hair and then grabbed a dry one to loop around my torso. I would just sleep in that tonight.

To my surprise, when I trudged into the bedroom, I found a baby-pink floral pajama set with the tags still on it and a pack of cotton panties sitting on the bed. My hand lifted to my heart as I stared at these simple but thoughtful gifts.

My scrubbed skin practically sighed with relief when I slipped into the soft clothing. Limping to the door, I stuck my head out and saw Damiano in the living room. He quickly strode toward me, holding several Walmart bags.

“Hey, I see you found the pajamas.”

“Yes, thank you,” I told him, again wishing I could come up with better words to express myself, but I was just so fucking tired.

“I had Rodrigo get you a toothbrush and some medicine too,” he said, and I stepped back to let him inside the room. He rummaged around and produced a travel-sized toothbrush and toothpaste as well as a hairbrush.

I kissed the toothbrush with a series of mwah noises, and Damiano laughed. “I figured you’d like that. Go do what you need to do. I’ll wait out here.”

Using way too much toothpaste, I scrubbed my teeth and mouth thoroughly in the bathroom before brushing out my hair and leaving the damp strands loose around my shoulders. When I exited back into the bedroom, the agent gestured for me to sit on the bed.

I did, and he kneeled in front of me, inspecting the wounds on my hands and knees. “How did this happen?” he asked, glancing up at me with his coffee-colored eyes. I liked his voice. It was deep and rumbly but somehow soothing.

“I fell when I tried to run. FYI, it’s not a good idea to run while your legs are shackled together.”

His lips smirked up on one side. “I’ll try to remember that for future reference.”

Over the next ten minutes, he meticulously cleaned and treated my scrapes with hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment before bandaging them. He even applied a thick layer of the salve to the raw spot that was left by the duct tape they’d used to attach the number five to my chest. Somehow, that ranked near the top of the most humiliating things I’d endured since being taken.

Damiano’s hands were large and rough, but he was so damned gentle as he took care of me. I’d suffered nothing but abuse for days, so this care brought on the threat of a new wave of tears, but I clamped my eyelids shut to contain them.

I’d thought I was done with crying, but this big man on his knees, treating me with such tenderness, almost undid me. His lips tightened when he noted the raw skin around my ankles and wrists from the restraints.

“This is arnica,” he told me, smoothing a different ointment around my bruised and scraped joints and then over the marks on my arms and legs that had been left by Felipe and Ethan’s harsh fingers. “It should help with any pain and inflammation.”

“It was really thoughtful of you to get all this. Can I thank Rodrigo too?”

“He’s already in bed, but you can tell him in the morning. He needs to get some sleep because he’ll be flying the helicopter tomorrow.”

“Are you taking me to New York to my family?” I asked, and he glanced up at me with a furrowed brow.

His reply seemed distant and laden with something I couldn’t quite define. “New York? Yeah, I’ll get you to New York.” With his eyes still on mine, he cupped my chin with one hand, angling my face to the side so he could see my cheek. “Swear to god, if those fuckers weren’t already dead, I’d kill them for marking you like this.”

The words were muttered but no less fierce as he smoothed the arnica over the bruise from the backhand I’d taken to the face. I wasn’t sure why he was acting like Ethan and Felipe had hurt him personally, but maybe it was just his nature. Protectiveness as a result of his job.

With tender pressure, Damiano tilted my head until I was facing him again, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. “I’m sorry they hurt you,” he murmured, smoothing some of the arnica over the split in my bottom lip.

“It could have been worse,” I whispered, and his gaze locked with mine.

“Yeah, it could have been.” A muscle clenched in his jaw as we stared at each other in what felt like a very intimate moment. Then he dragged his eyes away and reached for another of the bags, pulling out a cool bottle of water and some ibuprofen. “Take these,” he said, spilling four of the tablets into my palm.

The bandages made me clumsy, and Damiano caught the pills I dropped before they hit the floor. To my surprise, he held two of them to my lips with his long fingers, and I took a drink of the water to swallow them before he repeated it with the other two.

“Thank you,” I told him. “I feel like I keep saying that, and I know it doesn’t come close to being enough. I’m just too tired to think of anything else.”

“It’s okay, Evie. Why don’t you get some sleep now?”

I nodded. “I need it. I don’t remember the last time I slept.” I attempted a small smile, but I could feel that it was weak.

Damiano took the bottle of water from me and placed it on the small table beside the bed before pulling back the covers for me. I slid my legs beneath the cool sheets and rested my head on the pillow.

The man stood and pulled the covers up over my body. “My room is next door if you need me. Is there anything else I can get you right now?”

My tired mind could think of only one thing. It was probably wholly inappropriate, but fuck it. Sitting up, I held my arms wide. Damiano didn’t even hesitate. He sat on the edge of the bed and allowed me to hug him, his large hands finding my back in a soothing up and down movement.

A sigh escaped me at the comfort a simple hug brought me, but I couldn’t muster up any words. So I clung to this man. This stranger. My savior.

Damiano’s deep voice rumbled his chest and vibrated low in my ear. “Do I need to pull a chair in here and stay with you?”

Yes!

But I couldn’t ask him to do that. He needed to sleep too, so I shook my head and reluctantly pulled back. “No, it’s fine.”

With one hand on the back of my head and one pressing against the center of my chest, he guided me down until I was once again resting on the pillow. “I’ll stay till you get to sleep.”

My eyes closed instantly, and I felt fingers brushing the hair from my face as my exhausted body finally relaxed. And then… I slept.