Page 43 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)
THIRTY-FIVE
NAZ
I got sucked into the vortex of strange coincidences.
After checking twice that the doors were securely locked, closing the open slivers of the lounge curtains and rattling every other opening available, I set out on the hunt for my bags.
I used to move them quite frequently, and now I find myself lost in the maze of memories and possible hiding spots.
I decide it would be better to move systematically through my home. As well as that, the most likely hiding spots would start in the kitchen. I open every cabinet and peep around tall cereal boxes.
Sometimes I would stash smaller bags with different amounts of money in household containers. I wanted to be prepared for anything that could be thrown at me.
Finally, I find one of my big bags stuffed behind the stove – not the best hiding place in hindsight – but I have no visitors who might spot the odd appearance of unseemly décor in my kitchen.
Relieved, I clutch the bag to my chest, lean against the kitchen counter, and take a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding.
I feel some of the tension drain from my shoulders.
This is going to work.
I know I will get all the money in time. And then I will get Griffin out of jail, and we can tackle this absurd situation together.
I am coming for you, my little brat.
When I open my eyes, my stare gets caught on a curious-looking gift that has somehow separated from the tower of boxes on the dining table.
The reason it held my gaze captive is because this one appears to be a weird shape, and the wrapping paper is weirdly darker than the rest, although it was the same pattern.
Putting the bag down on the counter, my feet hover in indecision.
I don’t have time for this, but my legs carry me to the table on their own accord.
I pick up the package and find that the paper crunches under the pressure of my fingertips. The wrapping sticks to whatever is inside, and the moths in my stomach scatter like crazy as the odor of decay wafts from the torn corner .
Dry blood flakes on the table, and I drop the package with a gasp. This can’t be. There must be a better explanation than what my eyes are seeing.
Grasping the edges of the table with white knuckles and stunned into hyperventilating, I miss the gentle opening of the back door. Being so close to the kitchen, their black combat boots float silently over the tiles until they have me surrounded.
“Finally, the lost little lamb has come home. Couldn’t take slumming at the penthouse anymore?”
It can’t be. Not here. Not now.
That voice is the same one from my nightmares. And when I turn around slowly, the eyes are the same dead eyes that watched me slip into painful oblivion that fateful night. I thought my mind was slowly erasing the memories of what happened, but here I am, faced with the same spiteful snarl.
Riley fucking Deacon.
“How did you find me?” My voice is barely a whisper
He puts his hands on his hips and stares me down. “Did you think you could hide forever, little lamb? Haven’t you learnt the lesson that there is nowhere you can hide from me? I will always find you.”
He looks from me to the other two men filling my space while he motions to me with his soft hand, “Look at this idiot, boys. Thinking I would let my property get away from me. ”
I turn to face the one closest to me. The thug on the left is built like a bear and has a jagged scar over his left cheek that twitches into a malicious smirk.
“Dumb broads always think they know better,” the one on the right says.
I look toward him to find a smaller version of the one on my left but just as menacing.
They are both dressed in black combat gear, and various weapons are glinting on their belts.
They came prepared for war and found a weak woman to bully. Or maybe even do more.
You never know with Riley. Once he smells blood in the water, he becomes ravenous.
The accent of the thug that has spoken up seems familiar, and I rack my brain to place it, thinking about where I have heard it before. Riley casually walks up to him and punches him in the face.
Hard.
He goes down with an almighty thud but doesn’t stay down. When he jumps up, Riley’s index finger is in his face. “Don’t forget, you are the hired fucking help. Not the comedic relief. Now tie her up. I need to get out of this place before her poverty rubs off on me.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” I plead.
Riley turns and looks down at me when he says, “Whatever could you mean, little lamb?”
I gather my courage and face the devil that has torn my life apart.
“I will never tell anyone what happened that night. I will simply disappear, and you never have to set your sights on me again. You don’t really care about me.
I am sure you have a harem of women who can’t wait to please you properly.
You can simply let me go, and I will run far away.
” To the end, my words all but disappear.
He takes a hold of his chin and rubs it as if contemplating my offer.
“Isn’t that a curious notion? You would abandon your life here once again and go into hiding after you have built an erotic art empire. Who am I to motivate such strong action in a weak woman like you?”
He has slowly been stalking closer while talking, and when he is within reach, he raises his hand to slap me across the face. The impact vibrates through my skull, and an incessantly high-pitched scream pierces my ears.
Riley always enjoyed giving me backhanded slaps, sometimes numerous times, one after the other. My face would swell and I had to stay home and eat through a straw. Memories of the agony I felt in those times flood my being, and instinctively, I move out of his reach.
He advances and turns threatening with his face turning red from instant anger.
“I can’t believe you would suggest something so idiotic.
You are my property and nothing more than a thing to be handled in any way I see fit.
You wouldn’t send your dog out to wander the world alone, would you?
” He looks around to get confirmation from the other two men.
They both nod, although one shows signs of slight hesitance.
Once Riley focuses his wrath on me, I can clearly see the mistake I have made.
I only angered the beast, and now there will be no escape.
He utters his words through clenched teeth; I think I can hear grinding between phrases.
“This fucking slut…thinks I would EVER let her go…fucking idiot…should have slapped some sense into her.”
Then he looks back at me and utters the three words that strike unmeasurable fear in my heart, or that of any woman when it comes from the wrong man: “YOU ARE MINE!”
Then he walks out the same door he came in.
Now I have only two left, and I am sure I can take them. Even though my cheek is pounding like a full percussion band.
If only I had not put my gun back in the drawer.
When the men advance on me, I lift my hands in surrender and try to reason with them: “If this is about money, I have some. Probably more than he is paying you, and you can have it all. Just take a look in the bag over there. Half a million could come in handy to start a new life.”
They look at each other, and the one who took the punch nods. He is clearly the one I need to take out first. The other one is much bigger, and I need a gun to take him down.
With both of their attention focused on the bag, I slowly inch closer to the leader.
The bigger one has grabbed the bag and yanked at the zipper until the money comes into view.
The leader’s face turns excited with eyes gleaming when he sees the wads of cash being taken out of the black duffle bag by the other guy.
The money is stacked in neat little piles on the kitchen counter.
I know money isn’t the only item in the bag, and any minute the guy is going to find the small 22 caliber I have in there too. I must make my move before then.
The burly character whistles when he takes out the gold jewelry, which I also have in there. As I said, I was very well prepared. Or so I thought.
When I am close enough and ready to strike, just like Jenny taught me, my foot bumps the canvas leaning against the wall, and it tumbles down. The loud crash puts both on alert, and I am firmly in their crosshairs.
“What do you think you are going? There is no more running for you. I heard your man tell the boss that you have been running for more than a decade. That is a long time to be scared shitless little girl.”
My forced laugh is a tinkling sound echoing into the space.
“Are you sure you are not the comedic relief because you sure like to make jokes? For instance, that creep has never been my man. My man is going to come for me, and you will be the first ones I tell him to kill, mark my words. And the second mistake you made today is I am certainly not scared of greedy, incompetent assholes like you.”
I burst into a sprint toward him and hit him with my shoulder square in the stomach. I am a little shorter than he is but since this was such an unexpected move, it actually counts in my favor. We go down like a sack of potatoes, and I wrestle the gun from his hands.
The other one is running toward me, grabbing hands high and intimidating.
There is no more time. My finger curls around the finger already in the space, and with wavering aim, I fire two bullets into his chest. The hell with what the neighbors are going to think.
Stunned, the man stops to see if there is any damage. When I see no blood stains, I consider the possibility that he is wearing a bulletproof vest. Smart man, if only he hadn’t underestimated me so readily. With renewed vigor, he charges.
The man under me is struggling up while trying to shove me off him. I refuse to let him go and clutch the weapon as if my life depends on it – which it does. I aim higher and fire three times. One bullet misses but the last two find their mark.