11. Draven
Chapter 11
Draven
Seeing Moretti in chains is possibly one of the best moments of my life, other than meeting my niece for the first time. I’d spent days upon weeks tracking this guy, learning everything I could about his movements, watching with growing anger while he trapped more young girls and desperate women into a life of prostitution, then spent the proceeds snorting coke, driving fast cars, and forcing himself on any female he fancied.
Less than a week has passed since his arrest, during which time they’ve arraigned him, refused bail, and locked him up in the county jail pending transfer to a state prison facility sometime next week. Timing-wise, it’s worked out beautifully. Rick’s jurisdiction covers county, but I’d have had much more difficulty arranging this visit if Moretti had already been transferred to the state penitentiary.
The bruises my rough treatment caused during Moretti’s arrest have faded to a pale yellow, but his hatred shines brightly, pouring off him the moment he sets eyes on me. But when Moretti turns his attention to Louise, his gaze fills with hunger, and I almost break my promise to Rick. Only Louise’s sixth sense prevents me from launching across the table and beating the fucker to death. She somehow gauges my growing rage and surreptitiously shifts in her seat, edging closer to me, pressing her thigh against mine in a silent warning.
“Eyes on me, jerkoff,” I bark, already regretting bringing Louise into the room. Then again, suggesting she stay away would have probably gotten me a punch in the face and a twist of the balls.
God, a feisty woman turns me on, and there’s none feistier than my Lola. And that’s what she is. Mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. Hell, I’m only just coming around to the idea of keeping her long after this case is solved myself. I can’t bear the thought of letting her walk away now, which is why I don’t intend to.
Moretti’s lips curve in a half sneer, half cocky grin. “And there was me thinking you’d brought me a hot piece of ass as an apology.”
“Don’t worry, sugar.” I snarl, my lip curling and nostrils flaring. “Where you’re going, you’ll be the hot piece of ass. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You and I both know I won’t end up in the pen. My associates will have me out of here before that happens.”
“Yeah, they’re doing a bang-up job so far.”
Moretti’s smirk drops, and his eyes darken. I push back my chair, my legs splayed wide in a deliberate act of arrogance while the officer who accompanied Moretti chains his hands to the table and his feet to the floor. Retreating to the corner of the room, the cop laces his hands behind his back and averts his gaze.
“So, how’re they treating you? Need anything? Cigarettes? Shampoo? Lube?”
“Fuck you.”
“Afraid that’s never gonna happen. You’re not my type.”
The sound of bone on bone as Moretti grinds his teeth brings a smile to my face. Rick is probably cursing next door, worried about Moretti suing the city.
Moretti won’t sue anyone, but I also purposely excluded Rick from the details of my plan in case he went all saintly on me. The only people who know are Pavel, the two other guys he’s drafted, and the very talented Octavia—an old friend of mine, and the cornerstone of my plan.
Moretti glances at the cop standing in the corner. “Take me back to my cell. This fucker is wasting my time.”
The cop doesn’t move.
Good man.
I shuffle my chair forward and rest my forearms on the table. “You’ll leave when I say you can leave. Now, shut your fucking mouth before I put my fist in it.”
Moretti snorts. “Do it and watch me sue this city for millions.”
“You won’t sue this city, but you will answer my questions.”
Another derogatory snort. “Your negotiation skills suck, man.”
I knit my fingers and rest them behind my neck, rocking my chair on two legs. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say they’re fucking awesome.”
Moretti turns his attention to Louise. “And what about you, darling? What’s your purpose here, other than giving me a boner?”
The chair slams back into place and I bang my palms on the table. The entire room, including Moretti, jumps. “Eyes. On. Me. Motherfucker. You look at her one more time, and I’ll gouge yours out and ram them down your goddamn throat until you fucking choke to death. You got me?”
Moretti tries to stand, forgetting his wrists and ankles are shackled to the floor and table. He emits a growl, shooting a venomous glare at the cop in the corner. “Take me back. Now!”
The cop just looks bored, his gaze on the wall behind my head.
I’m buying that man a beer later.
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” I say, resting the edge of my laced fingers on the table. “At least fifteen women have recently been taken from four areas in Jersey. Six in Camden, another four in Essex, three in Hudson, and two in Bergen… that we know of.”
Moretti’s black, soulless eyes lock on me again, and he hoists one shoulder. “So?”
“So, you’re going to tell me who’s behind it.”
Moretti sneers. “Of course I am. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to help out a guy who punched me in the face and stomped on my balls.” The chains clang as Moretti lifts his middle finger. “Fuck. You.”
I feel Louise’s eyes on me, but I keep my gaze trained on the piece of shit directly ahead.
“I thought you might say that, which is why I lined up a little incentive.”
Moretti shows his teeth, his top lip curled back. “So, you did bring this hot piece of ass for me?” He flashes a quick glance in Louise’s direction before returning his attention to me. “I mean, after you, she’s probably desperate to be fucked by a real man.”
Don’t react. Do. Not. React. Focus on the long game.
Taking my phone from my pocket and calmly placing it on the table is right up there with one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I deserve a fucking medal for stopping myself from wrapping my hands around Moretti’s neck and squeezing until his eyes pop out of his head. Louise, on the other hand, puts in a stellar performance. She even yawns loudly, her point rammed home with the precision of an Olympic javelin athlete.
I could kiss her.
As soon as we get out of here, I will kiss her.
I open my contacts and scroll down until I find Pavel. Tapping on his name, I put the phone on speaker and wait for him to answer. He does on the first ring, as agreed.
“Hey, my man. How’s it hanging?”
“Pretty good,” I reply. “You got your eyes on the prize?”
“My eyes, my hands, and very soon, my dick.”
I snicker. “And the others?”
“They’re all here. Just waiting on a go.”
“You got enough for all three holes?”
“Yep. And a spare. You know, in case we get tired and all.”
The group of men gathered together with Pavel laugh. Louise shifts in her seat. Don’t react, sweetcheeks. Keep doing what you’re doing. The second my conversation with Pavel began, she sat up straighter, her gaze flicking between me and my phone.
Moretti is still clueless, but he won’t be in about five seconds.
“Put her on.”
A scuffling sound followed by a woman yelping comes over the line, then Pavel’s rasping tone. “Don’t fucking try me, bitch.”
“Please,” comes a pleading voice. “Don’t hurt me.”
Moretti reacts so fast he could have been tasered. He yanks on his chains, his eyes wild, darting, unfocused.
The sound of a punch is followed by a piercing scream, and then, “Franco, help me, please.”
Hearing his wife’s terrified voice launches Moretti into action. He goes crazy, foaming at the mouth, jerking and yanking at his restraints. Veins pop in his forehead, and his neck strains. The cop on watch moves fast, clamping a thick forearm over Moretti’s chest, forcing him back into the chair, his superior strength and freedom of movement quickly subduing the prisoner.
I watch through half-closed eyes with an almost bored expression on my face.
“Draven.” Louise’s tone holds a warning, a worried tremble vibrating the timber of her voice.
I shoot her a glance, my message clear: trust me .
Her lips seal into a thin white slash, but the barest dip of her chin acts as a silent “Okay.”
“Oh, yeah,” Pavel says. “I gotta say, Draven, she’s got a pretty cunt, this one. Unlike the last bitch I had to tame. Yep, very nice indeed. I’ll enjoy fucking her until she bleeds.”
A slapping sound comes over the line as if he’s struck the woman’s ass. Of course, I know that’s bullshit. Octavia would chop off Pavel’s hands if he dared.
“Motherfucker, I forgot the lube. Guess I’m going in dry. Hold her down, guys. Spread her legs.”
More scuffling, more laughter, followed by a woman’s bloodcurdling screams.
“You motherfucker!” Moretti screams. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Louise scrambles to her feet. I clamp a hand around her wrist. “Sit down.”
She wrenches from my grip. “I need to go.”
I let her leave as more crying ensues down the phone line, the woman almost hysterical now, her pleas and sobs falling on deaf ears. Moretti’s legs thrash as he pointlessly tries to free himself from the metal restraints and the strong arm wrapped around his torso.
“Please, Franco. Whatever they want, give it to them, please.”
A guttural moan bursts from the chest of the man sitting opposite, like an animal in acute pain.
I count down the seconds. Five, four, three, two, o?—
“Okay! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Hold it,” I order.
“Fuck’s sake.” Pavel groans. “Leave me with blue balls why don’t you. Bastard.”
I suppress a grin. Pavel really is going for the Best Actor Oscar with this performance.
“Stay where you are, but no one touches the goods.” I lock eyes with Moretti. “For now. Let’s see if the intel is worth it.”
“Got it. Take her back to the basement. Tie the bitch up.”
The sobs grow faint, the sounds of feet dragging along a concrete floor fading away until they can no longer be heard. I end the call.
“Impress me, Moretti, or your missus is about to find out what it’s like to be fucked by a bunch of feral men.”