Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
L akeshia
“You have twenty minutes.” Paul’s man says before pushing me forward.
I nearly trip, but correct myself before falling to the ground. Thankfully, I’m able to keep the cake box from spilling as well.
A door slams behind me, and I spin around while whipping the blindfold off my face. The fear from the long ride here is a constant companion, and being locked in a room does nothing to dissipate its potency.
The room is dark, dingy, and bare but for a camera in the corner by the door.
“Lakeshia?” Shinji asks from behind me.
“No, Shinji. You’re wrong. Our wife would never endanger herself by walking in the lion’s den with nothing but a cake box for protection. Whoever that is can’t be her.” Anger, soul deep and barely leashed laces Takeshi’s response.
I slowly turn around and hold out the box. “I brought goodies.” I end the last word on a high optimistic note and an awkward smile to downplay the seriousness of our situation.
Shinji and Takeshi wear matching thunderous expressions underneath bluish-purple bruises. What catches my eye and twists my heart in knots is Shinji’s shaved head. Gone are the long, silky locks I love to sink my fingers in. In their place is a patchwork of cuts and uneven tracts.
“Shinji, your hair,” I cry.
“It’ll grow back, but?—”
“Don’t change the subject,” Takeshi says.
He and Shinji exchange a glance before they charge forward with murderous intent darkening their brown eyes. Even as they march toward me, they can’t hide the slight limp disrupting their gait.
I try to hold in my reaction, and if they get too close I’ll lose my composure. “Hear me out before you do…whatever you think you’re going to do to me.” I circle them and place the box on the mattress on the floor, the only item in the room. I spin around to find them inches from me, their hands fisted and jaws spasming in sync.
It’s been three days, and all the anxiety and doubts I’ve held inside bubble forth in incoherent babble and tears. I lose the fight to keep my emotions restrained and launch myself at them, needing to feel their realness with my body.
Unprepared for my sudden attack, Takeshi stumbles but Shinji stiffens, reminding me they may have injuries beneath their clothes. Shinji keeps us all upright and they both tighten their arms around me, switching from scolding to comforting me in seconds.
And boy do I need their reassurance. Granted, I could blame my emotional outpouring on my pregnancy, but that would ignore the sleepless nights where I imagined the worst or seeing the discoloration on their faces and signs of swelling.
“Lakeshia, we don’t have time for this,” Takeshi murmurs while rubbing circles into my back, all previous signs of his anger muted by his concern.
“You’re right.” I pull away and wipe my face in a futile effort to compose myself.
Tears continue to fall, but no longer in earnest, and they don’t impair my speech. Without speaking, I gently draw both men under the camera and out of view of whoever is surveilling us.
“I’m getting you out of here.” I shake my head when Shinji looks like he’s about to object. “The Giamettis and Katsuo agreed.” I unhook my earrings and extract a note written in kanji from Katsuo.
It should detail just enough of our plan to ensure Takeshi and Shinji play their roles when the time comes, but I can’t be sure. I’m never certain of Katsuo’s motives or what goes through his mind, however, I trust him with my husbands’ lives.
They read the note and frown, while I memorize every facet of their changing expressions. Without knowing the next time I’ll see them, I have to cherish these last twenty minutes together while not hinting at my upcoming confrontation,
“I don’t?—”
“Why don’t we eat while we talk?” I stop Takeshi before he makes me say something to give away the parts of my plan I kept from Katsuo. “Kori made miso butter cookies, Shinji’s favorite.” I rush to the mattress with the cake box and pull out two cookies with red dots and give them to Takeshi and Shinji.
“You aren’t eating any?” Takeshi asks, his gaze lasers on me, disconcerting me.
Does he suspect something? I rack my recent memory for a slipup, but I’ve played my part.
“Of course.” I take a cookie with a green dot, making sure to hide the color as I extract it from the box.
“What does Paul get in exchange for us?” Shinji stares at his cookie without eating.
“You’ll have to ask Katsuo when you see him.” I surreptitiously watch them, waiting for them to eat at least one damn cookie. Everything hinges on them eating at least half of one.
Finally, I bite into mine. “I forgot how good this tastes. Then again, Kori made them, so they’re guaranteed to be delicious.” I eye my men, then the cookies in their hands while counting down the time in my head.
They both take a bite, then place their cookie on the box to pepper me with more questions. I deflect until Takeshi’s first yawn. Then Shinji follows suit. Soon they’re blinking blearily at me, and I almost huff in relief.
My last exchange with Katsuo before Kori began baking worried me. So I convinced her to add sedatives to the cookies resting on top of the cake with the hidden weapons. I had to ensure Takeshi and Shinji wouldn’t make things difficult when I surrendered myself to Paul.
My husbands slump to the side. I maneuver them on the mattress in a more comfortable position and breathe easier when their eyes don’t open. I caress their faces, lingering over their fading bruises.
“If things don’t go as planned,” I whisper, needing to voice my farewell, although Shinji and Takeshi can’t hear me. “I hope one day you’ll forgive me and find another woman who’ll give you the children and family you want.”
I sniff, hating whoever the woman is that they find to replace me, but wanting them to heal from the pain of losing me more. I take a shuddering breath and continue. “I can die in peace knowing you’re safe, and that’s more than I ever thought I’d have.” I kiss their warm lips and bruises one last time before the door opens and someone interrupts. “I love you.”
“Time’s up,” the same man who pushed me earlier says, bringing an end to my final moments with my husbands.
The asshole ushers me to a new area. The area is wider and more open than where Paul is keeping my husbands. Light filters through dusty windows, and we pass by an area with ropes hanging from the ceiling and splotches of dried blood on the floor.
I swallow my rage at the evidence of my husbands’ abuse.
“Over here. We’ve got the perfect setup for a woman with her…proclivities.” Tomasso stands in a far corner between another entrance and a gaudily made king-size bed.
A red velvet blanket and black pillows adorn the bed as if it came from a low-class brothel.
My guide pushes me toward Tomasso. I’m getting tired of this treatment, but if I won’t jeopardize the 0.01 percent chance I have of walking out of here alive.
“Whores don’t wear their hair up. Take it down.” Tomasso points at my head.
I glance around the room, nervous because the most dangerous person to my mental stability is missing. “Where’s Paul?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll get here when he gets here. Now take down your hair.”
I pull the barrette out of my hair and keep it in my fist.
Tomasso circles me, inventorying my features. “You must be very skillful. A natural, huh? So natural you deceived my nephew, now no one will carry on my family line. Your daddy must be so proud.”
I lurch at him. “Don’t you talk about my father.”
The man behind me grabs me by the elbows seconds before I get a punch in.
“Your father was a worthless traitor who deserved to die. Wait, did you target Paul because of your loser father’s death?”
I struggle against the man imprisoning my arms, welcoming the pain of strained muscles because it stops me from losing my shit at Tomasso throwing out Paul’s name. “I didn’t know you were related until after he violated me. But he deserved everything he got.”
Searing heat balloons across my cheek from Tomasso backhanding me.
“No one deserves… You know what? Fuck this. Let’s put together a gift for those assholes you conned into attacking my family.” He passes me and I follow him with my eyes to a camera I overlooked earlier.
He points it toward me, and a red light shines showing it’s recording. “Now, strip!”
“Fuck. You.”
“All in good time. Strip her.”
The man holding me pulls, tugs, and rips at my clothes until I stand naked in front of my enemy.
“I won’t let you repeat what Paul did to me.” I hug my body, hiding it from the camera. Shame, thick and oily slides down my skin. So many years have passed since I last felt this way. Knowing my husbands could witness my humiliation doubles the unpleasant sensation.
“Don’t worry, this time you won’t have wine to blame for your shitty memory.” Tomasso closes the gap between us to stand over me. “And with the men about to run through you, it won’t be anything like the care Paul showed you.”
I swallow a flood of bile rising from my esophagus to choke me. I won’t go down without a fight, but I need to time things right.
“Ah, Zio Tomasso, looks like I’m right on time.”
My heart spikes at the sound of Paul’s voice. I squeeze the barrette in my hand, welcoming the slight pain of its hard edges digging into the soft flesh of my palm. I don’t have Riu or my husbands to keep me grounded while I struggle to breathe and my vision starts to narrow.
“Damn, Sheila.” Paul sneers. “Seeing you like this pisses me off so much. The things I would do to you.”
“Kill yourself.” I force the words through my tightening throat.
“Zio?”
“I’ve got you, nipote.” Tomasso grabs my face and points it toward the camera. “Smile for your husbands .” He chuckles before dragging me toward the bed.
I kick and try to fight free. I manage to break away, but Paul intercepts me. I freeze the moment he lays his hands on me, allowing him and his uncle to drag me to the bed. Tomasso holds me down while Paul cheers him on from the side.
I want to keep fighting, but I get weaker and weaker as the seconds pass.
Not again, I scream in my head, too weak to fight. The only thing stopping me from using the blade hidden in my barrette and ending my torment is the red light documenting everything for my husbands to see.