Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
RACHEL
The men drink, talk, and laugh. They’re really pleased with themselves for having gotten me away from C Crue.
Periodically, Alberto gives me an openmouthed kiss.
I let him, numbly. I try several times to extract myself, but he drags me back to the couch, talking about the wedding, snapping selfies of us. I feel ill.
Eventually, my father grows tired and bored of it all. He gets up and intervenes. I know it’s not for my sake. He wants to talk to me alone. He’s said as much.
I don’t want to talk to him alone. I need to talk to Alberto alone.
“I’m going to bed,” Frank finally says. “Come on, Rachel. I’ll walk you up.”
“No, no. There’s been a lot of drama. I want her right here with me.” Alberto’s grip is hard enough to bruise my arm.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing his wrist. “That’s too tight.”
“There’s no such thing. I’m sure the Hulk’s rougher than me. That’s his thing, right?”
A heavy silence settles over the room.
Frank looks at Alberto and then at me. Suddenly, I’m not ready for Frank to leave.
“It’s late,” I say.
“Not that late. Not even midnight,” Alberto says.
“Goodnight,” Frank says.
“Dad—” I say.
“No, I’m tired,” he says, cutting me off. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Wait,” I say, but he shakes his head and walks out.
“You and me, princess,” Alberto hisses, placing a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek. The smell of stale alcohol is strong on his breath.
I jerk back. “That’s enough.” I get up, yanking my arm free. I get only two steps away before he knocks me down. Hard. I’m face down on the carpet, stunned from the force of the blow to my back. Dazedly, I realize he’s tearing at my clothes.
“Tell me,” he slurs. He turns me over and slaps me across the face.
I’m terrified and nauseous, but I don’t move or fight. A stillness settles over me. I’ve been in dangerous situations before. I think if I fight, it’ll fan the flames.
“Berto, babe, you’re drunk,” I say softly. “Let’s go upstairs.”
He’s breathing hard, and his head shakes. “No. You know what? Yeah, we will go upstairs. And you’ll do exactly what I say. Right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah,” he says, getting up.
I’m shaking as I stand, but a little relieved that he let me defuse the situation.
I start to walk. Then he shoves me against the wall, my head hitting it hard enough for the thud to echo in my ears.
There’s a metallic taste in my mouth. Blood.
I bit my tongue. I swallow, so close to being sick.
My forehead hurts where it banged against the plaster.
He pushes his pelvis against my ass. Tears sting my eyes, but I stay still.
“Was he good? Were you a good little whore? The kind he likes?” His breath is rank, and it turns my stomach. I breathe open-mouthed as sweat pops up on my skin.
Tears spill over my lashes. “Do you even know where she is?” I whisper.
“Who?” he asks.
“My mom,” I say.
“Hell, no. But I knew that would get you. And I will find out. But you won’t see her. I’ll just tell Frank. And you’ll never see her again because he’ll kill her. That’s your punishment for betraying me.”
He drags me by the arm to the stairs. I could scream. My father’s not the only one in the house. Would one of the guys come?
Not if it’s Pauly Mangia. He’d let Alberto Leone rape me and cheer him on while he did it.
And I bet my father would think I’m getting what I deserve.
He was no stranger to leaving a few bruises on my mom when they were together and she made him angry.
I’m sure I lost any chance of getting his help when I didn’t leave Zoe’s apartment and go straight home with him when he told me to.
I saw the apathy in his eyes when I asked him not to leave the room tonight.
More tears burn down my cheeks. I don’t want to beg. I won’t scream for help. I shouldn’t have to.
I climb the stairs silently, with Alberto shoving me forward. At one point, I fall, banging my shins and palms. I grab the banister tightly as I rise. I don’t want to fall down the stairs.
I picture the bedrooms, my mind racing wildly. Which ones have windows that open and doors that lock? Alberto pulls me toward the first guest room at the top of the stairs. I grab the doorframe and hold on to slow us down.
It gives him an excuse. He hauls me into the room, throwing me onto the floor.
I burn my palms on the carpet. He slams the door shut and locks it.
I won’t make it to the bathroom; it’s too far.
I dive under the desk and come up on the other side.
My hands scramble for anything sharp, but there’s nothing.
I can’t even find a pen. My hand slides over something heavy and smooth.
I barely grab it as he picks me up and flings me down on the floor again. I land flat on my back with a crash. It knocks the wind from my lungs and I’m stunned for a moment. He shoves up my dress and drags my panties off.
I don’t move. I concentrate on catching my breath and on the tingling in my arm. I have something heavy near my hand. My fingers stretch. He’s fumbling with his zipper. I move an inch, two. A cool ball of stone is in my hand. The top is like a cue ball, I think wildly. I don’t know what it is.
When he leans forward to force my thighs apart, I swing my arm up, slamming the weight against his temple. There’s a cracking sound and saliva rains down on me. He falls half onto me and half onto the carpet.
I shove at him. He’s heavy. It takes me a moment to get out from under. Then I’m up and running to the other side of the room. I unlock the door and rush out. He could get up and chase me, be right behind me in seconds. My pulse thunders in my ears. I run down the stairs.
I have to get out. I have to—
I can’t catch my breath. I need to get away, but I can’t flag down a car outside Frank’s. The neighbors will tell him. And they wouldn’t even pick me up.
I run to the kitchen and grab keys. I don’t know which car they belong to.
Then I race back to the front and yank the door open.
Outside, it’s cold. I click the key fob and find the car. I use the remote to open the gate. It takes a year for there to be enough clearance.
“Hurry. Hurry.”
Finally, it’s wide enough. I slam my foot down on the accelerator pedal and peel out of the driveway.
It was a paperweight, I realize. That’s what I hit him with. A marble paperweight that was shaped like a globe on top. I remember it now. Blue and green marble.
I drive for fifteen minutes, or maybe twenty-five. Time is fluid. When I’m south of Aberdeen, I tell myself to drive to Boston. But I don’t.
Instead, I go to the compound. I park the car on the street and rush to the gate, immediately pressing the button. Nothing happens. I press it again and again.
“Yeah?” a voice asks.
“It’s Rachel,” I say, my voice shaking. “I need—Sasha.”
“Don’t move.”
When the side gate opens, I launch myself inside and then drop to my knees and the tears I’ve been holding back start flowing.
I’m safe.
I hear footfalls pounding toward me. He scoops me up. I can’t see, but it’s him. I know him.
I sob, unable to stop.
When the warmth and light of the house hits me, my eyes are still closed.
Sasha’s roar of fury startles me, and I stiffen.
“Let’s see,” Trick says urgently.
“I’ll kill them!” Sasha’s shout is so loud the walls shake.
“Bring her. ‘Vil! Let’s see! So we can stop it.”
“Where? I’ll fucking kill them!” he yells.
I hear footsteps pounding down the stairs.
“The blood looks dry,” Trick says. “‘Vil, this way. Bring her,” he says frantically.
I open my eyes, blinking against the light. There’s running water, and Sasha walks into a shower with me. Trick’s in the doorway, getting sprayed. He scrubs my arm with a washcloth.
“No, ‘Vil. She’s not cut. Her arm’s not cut.”
“Hold her,” Sasha says. “Let me see.”
He hands me to Trick and then tears away my dress and runs his hands over me. “No. Nothing here. Turn her around.” Trick turns me, so I’m facing him. My eyes are wide with shock. “No,” Sasha says, his voice lower, calmer.
His hands catch me under the arms, and he takes me back.
“‘Vil,” Trick says softly. “What about inside?”
“Get out. I’ll check.”
Trick disappears, and Sasha carries me to the bed. I’m dripping wet, but not crying anymore. I’m too stunned.
“Raven,” he whispers. “Are you hurt inside? Did they put anything sharp inside you?”
I stare at him, too appalled to speak.
“I’ll check. I’ll be careful.”
I kick his hand away. “No. I’m not hurt inside. I-I’m okay. Just upset.”
“Whose blood was it?” he asks, still breathing hard.
I sit up, shivering. “I’m cold.”
“Yeah, all right.” He jerks the blanket and wraps it around me.
A knock on the door draws our attention. “‘Vil?” Trick calls.
Sasha strides to the door and opens it. “No. Not her blood.”
Trick exhales. “Good. Yeah. Fine.” He sucks in a breath and exhales. “Jesus Christ.” Then after a moment. “I’ll do a sweep and lock the gate. Fuck.”
ANVIL
I kneel next to the bed, watching her, not sure what to do for her. When I reach out, she backs away and her voice is strange. She sounds lost.
“I don’t have anything. No phone. No clothes. Nothing,” she says dazedly with tears dripping down her face.. “I left without anything, and I’m not going back. I’m never going back.”
There’s a knock on the door. Her eyes dart to it.
I stand and go to the door. C stands just outside, holding Zoe at arm’s length to keep her from pushing forward.
Zoe’s crying again. She’s been crying on and off all night.
“She wants to see Rachel.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. I close the door.
“Zoe?” I ask.
She grimaces. “I can’t—she’ll cry, she’ll be so upset. I can’t.” She bites her lip.
I go to the door, open it, and step out, backing them up. “Z,” I say firmly. “Listen to me,” I order.
She nods, crying.
“She’s all right. If you pull yourself together, I’ll let you look at her from the doorway. No questions. Just in and out, so you’ll know she’s all right.”
“Why can’t she talk?” she asks with a quavering voice.
“She’s talking. Not about what happened. Just random shit. Come on,” I say, my voice firm. “Get it together. If she sees you upset, it’ll upset her. Be tough. I know you can. I’ve seen it.”
She nods, sucking in a breath and rubbing her eyes. “I need a minute. I need—let me wash my face.” She spins on her toes and walks away. In a minute or less, she’s back, her face clean and dry. “I’m fine. Let me see her.”
I open the door and back in a couple of feet.
“I’m just checking on you,” Zoe says calmly, looking at her. “Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“If you need anything, come and knock on my door. We don’t care what time it is. Right, Connor?”
“Right. Anytime,” C says.
Zoe takes a deep breath. “Okay.” Then she backs out slowly.
Rachel visibly relaxes when the door closes. She tilts to the side, falling over onto the pillow, lying in a strange half folded position. I resist the urge to pick her up and rearrange her in the bed.
“The light hurts my eyes.”
I flick the switches, dropping us into darkness.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“When?”
“Right now.”
I’m gonna stand guard, I decide, but I don’t say that. “Nothing,” I answer.
“I don’t want you to leave me in here alone.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Your clothes are wet.”
“I know.”
“You could take them off and hang them in the bathroom.”
I do it and then come back to the bedside. “What else?”
“You could lie down with me. Just don’t—”
“I won’t.” I climb on the bed and lie back.
After a moment she sits up. “Don’t move,” she whispers.
I lie completely still as she covers my body with the blanket.
“Stay still,” she whispers, as she lies down next to me, so close her silky skin’s touching me. She finds my arm and pulls it. “You know what would be good?”
“What?”
“If you laid on your side, so this arm could reach where I want it.”
I roll onto my side and lift my arm to help her position it in front of her. Then both of her arms wrap around mine and draw it against her.
“He might be dead,” she whispers. “I felt a crack. Or heard it. I’m not sure. It happened so fast.”
I’m silent, waiting for the rest of the story.
“If you’d been there—” She swallows. “You weren’t because I let myself be tricked.” Her small hands tighten their grip on my forearm. “I wish I’d stayed your prisoner. I wish—”
“What?”
“Could I stay with you for a few days? Until I figure things out?”
“Yes.” The thought of her being out of my sight for even a second is inconceivable, but I don’t say it. I will never let go of her again. I don’t say that either. I don’t want to say anything that might upset her more.
“If someone comes looking for me, will you hide me and pretend I’m not here?”
“Sure,” I lie.
“Will you really?”
I hesitate to answer. Finally, I ask, “The truth?”
“Please.”
“No one will come, Raven. Because if they do, I’ll kill them.”