Chapter 18 Captured #3
It was also closer to two in the morning in New Jersey, so the fact that it took Michele De Salvo three rings to get to the phone was—objectively—understandable.
“Believe it or not, you’re not the only asshole on the planet,” Mikey snapped.
“Your report should be ready in time for your morning coffee.”
Any other time, Santino would have grinned at that. “My fiancée might be dead by then, Michele. I need your brain tonight, I’m afraid.”
Mikey managed to curse and groan simultaneously. There was a shuffling sound, followed by a muffled, “I have to take this, kitten.” Seconds more passed before he spoke again, clearer and sharper. “Tell me what I need to know.”
Once upon a time, not so long ago, Reiko had thought she was curious about being tied up. She’d thought it could be sexy to be so at the mercy of her partner, trusting him enough to allow it and surrendering to his control in such a way.
She’d been curious about blindfolds, too.
She sometimes slept with a night mask when her nightmares became so frequent that she fell into full-on insomnia, and the forced darkness somehow helped her in those times.
It wasn’t something she’d ever fully understood.
But as a result, she’d realized how much more aware her other senses became after hours behind the dark curtain.
Her hearing sharper, her sense of smell more acute, her skin more sensitive.
She’d thought it could, possibly, be quite a lot of fun to play that up in a trusted scene with a sexual partner.
All of those thoughts had been fantasies, developed slowly and in sporadic stages. Though she could see herself trusting Santino that much.
It hardly mattered anymore, because after however long she’d been effectively stuck on that tarp, Reiko never wanted to touch such items again.
The idea of being restrained—of having her arms locked and immobilized for lengths of time—only emphasized how much they had come to hurt.
Her shoulders were screaming worse than her head.
Or perhaps she’d grown used to her head.
The surface beneath her was so hard, her hip was threatening to detach altogether and storm off just to escape the pressure-pain.
And yet, none of that compared to the fear that wouldn’t release her throat.
Because she was still blind. And what good was hearing, when most of the time her not-so-charming captor spoke in a language she didn’t know?
All she had going for her was the awareness that she was freezing cold. The surface beneath the tarp was probably concrete, or at least tile, because it was not becoming warmer over time. And it was hard as hell.
She wanted to cry, but her eyes were the only part of her that had any moisture left between the bone-chilling temperature and the nauseating cotton-gag still in her mouth.
She was never going to be able to eat cotton candy again, on principle.
Reiko tried to at least flex her fingers, hoping to keep some life in them despite the wretched angle. Every movement made her shoulders hurt worse. She’d have whimpered if not for the thing in her mouth.
If I could just see… If she could see, she could have tried rolling to her knees. Maybe tried knee-walking to something that would help her up, or even better, cut her arms free. She didn’t think her wrists were bound by handcuffs. But then, what did she know?
She knew she had to pee. And she had no way to communicate the need, let alone to help herself.
The soft thud of footsteps alerted her to Turkey Carver’s approach, and sure enough, his taunting voice reached her ears moments later.
“Well, my bad. Looks like I forgot to offer you a blanket before I took my nap.” She jolted—bringing herself more pain—as he ran the pad of one finger down her arm.
“Your skin’s all bumpy and everything. Almost makes me feel bad. ”
Prick. Asshole. Dick-face. Walking dumpster pile.
His touch receded and he made a sound like a chuckle.
“I bet you’re real fuckin’ thirsty, right?
” Something whispered lower, over the front of her thighs, and she squeezed them as tight as she could manage.
“Relax. I’m not interested in Jap pussy, let alone my fucking cousin’s sloppy seconds.
I just figure, you’ve been here a few hours, you probably gotta pee, right? ”
Her heart clenched. His cousin? Santino had been worried about trouble with his cousin. Segreti. That had to be what this was.
She almost missed a muted sound, as if it carried through walls, or insulated windows. A sound that couldn’t be Turkey Carver Segreti, since he hadn’t moved far enough away to take his stench with him.
Segreti exhaled, his boot sliding on the hard floor, and the sense of his presence retreated a bit. Not fully from the room she pictured herself in, but far enough that he couldn’t reach out and touch her.
She heard him mutter a curse. Something was wrong. Something was not going according to his plan.
Her heartrate doubled and Reiko wiggled her fingers and toes again, carefully, in her miniscule efforts to be mobile if she ever got the opportunity.
A moment later, she heard something crash, followed by the tell-tale rapid-fire popping of gunshots.
They went off in bursts, like they were aiming before firing rather than just doing broad sweeps.
As if they were trying to avoid hitting a particular target.
Segreti stomped around, muttering something in Italian.
Reiko ignored him and sucked in the largest, deepest breath she could through her half-congested, entirely raw nose.
This is it. She held it for a beat to wait out the next burst of gunfire, and then she pushed out the loudest, most painful scream she was capable of around the gag trapped in her mouth.