4. Dante
CHAPTER FOUR
dante
T his isn’t my first rodeo. I know she’s only being cute with me to try to make a break for it. I’ll be nice and let her think that it’s working for a while.
“So, you come here often?” she asks, covering her mouth, which is currently full of spaghetti noodles.
“You could say that,” I respond.
“And this is some kind of torture thing, or do you just get off by making people feel like Zoo exhibits?” She asks, her wit never faltering.
“Yeah, you got me. Big time Zoo-fetish.” I laugh.
“So, how long do I have to be on display? I’m a busy girl, and I have things I need to do. People that depend on me.” She says, twirling noodles around a plastic fork. Giving her a pointy object might have been a mistake, but I don’t think I’m in danger. She’s not stupid.
“You’ll be safe in your own bed by Monday, you have my word, and trust me, you’ll be grateful I’m the one here with you.”
“Grateful. Yeah. I’m feeling really fucking grateful…” she huffs, rolling her eyes and looking around the cell.
“Look, Bianca, I’m gonna be straight with you. We both know how these things work. If you don’t give me a reason to hurt you, I won’t.”
“Right. If I’m a perfect fucking hostage, you can what? Use me as a bargaining chip? Where the fuck is Dmitri? Is he alive? Can you at least tell me that? He’s my fucking brother, please just tell me if he’s dead or alive.”
Well, there’s the foul-mouthed Bianca I’ve heard so much about.
“Dmitri is… well, he’s alive. He’s probably going to need to see the doctor on your payroll, but we have no intention of killing either of you. We need a little cooperation, and sometimes we must get… creative.”
She knows what that means. It’s nice to talk to a beautiful woman I don’t have to lie to. She gets what this life is like.
Fuck, Dante you moron. This isn’t a date; she’s a hostage.
“I understand. So, who is ‘we’ then? What do they have on you? What’s your price?”
I finish chewing and swallow hard before answering. I don’t necessarily want her to know anything about me, but something about her makes me feel chatty.
“I know exactly what you can offer me, and I’m gonna stop you right there. I can’t be bought.”
“Mmm someone has some deep hooks in you, huh?” She asks, finishing off her prison pasta.
“Nah. It’s not like that. It’s more of a respect thing.” Fuck. Why am I even entertaining this? It’s like she makes me have no control over what I say.
“Ya know, when I get out of here, I’m gonna find out who you are anyway, so you should just tell me who you work for. What the fuck can I do about it from in here?”
“Tempting. And you’re probably right. But that’s not my call.”
“Can you at least tell me your name?” She slides the styrofoam, fork included, into the chute and takes a step back.
I don’t respond.
“Well? Haven’t I been a good girl, just like you asked?”
“Dante. My name is Dante.”
“I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, Dante. Can I ask for one more thing?”
“Depends.”
She spins around, pointing to the back of her head. Shit, I didn’t realize how deep that cut was.
“Fuck.” I say, unintentionally at the sight of her bloody, exposed flesh.
“Fuck, indeed. This needs dealt with or it’s going to get worse. Listen, Dante. If you really don’t want to hurt me, doesn’t that mean you need to clean up this mess?” She points at it again and then turns back to me.
“Look, I’m really sorry about that. It wasn’t me that hit you, and it isn’t usually how we do things, but I just don’t…”
“I get it. Trust me, I do. What if you drop some handcuffs in here and I put them on willingly? Can you at least clean the cut? You don’t even have to stitch it, just help me avoid some infection or something. Please. Dante.” She presses her hand on the glass, and her eyes look…brighter. Like the hate she had for me is starting to lift.
Shit. Gio will have my balls if I screw this up. I don’t make mistakes. It’s what makes me so dangerous. I can’t let her get worse, though. God damnit.
“Alright. I do this and you continue to cooperate?” I ask, reaching in to get her trash from the chute.
“Yes. Anything!” She retorts.
I nod and carry the trash back up to my office. I grab handcuffs and head back down.
“Here’s how this is going to go. I drop the cuffs; you put them on. You turn around and face away from the door. I’m not supposed to hurt you, but if you try anything…” I lift my shirt to show the Glock tucked underneath it.
“I’ll do what I need to. Understand?” I finish my instructions, and she nods in agreement.
I drop the cuffs in and shut the door. I watch her put them on her dainty wrists and squeeze them closed intently so as not to miss anything. I need to be sure she isn’t going to try anything.
“Turn around and take two steps forward,” I add as I reach into my pocket and free the ring of keys settled in it.
I unlock the door, slowly entering and shutting the door behind me. After being held captive in here for a few hours, her sweet scent has filled the room. It reminded me of those little fruity candies my aunt used to have on her coffee table when I was a kid. I fucking loved those things, the perfect mix of strawberry and cream. The smell makes me feel a bit too at home than it should.
“Have a seat.” I motion her to sit in the chair, now sitting closer to the glass from our ‘dinner date’.
She sits down, straddling the chair and putting her chest against the back. She puts her hands on the top of the back.
“Is this okay?” She asks.
“Yeah, you’re good. Okay I’m going to start now so I just, I’m going to have to move your hair and…”
“Dante, I know. I appreciate you helping me, and I do trust you.”
Hmm. That’s not something I usually hear from my prisoners. But then again, I typically don’t worry about keeping them alive. She’s…a special kind of hostage.
I set down all the supplies I brought from the kit upstairs: Antiseptic, gauze, sutures, a needle, and other essentials. The only other time I’ve used this stuff was when I had to patch myself up last year. At least I don’t have to dig my fingers into her wound to remove a bullet. Fuck, that was the real torture. I move her silky dark hair to one side, exposing her long, perfect neck. I drench the gauze and clean the cut. She winces but fights it. She doesn’t want to look weak.
Admirable.
“You okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“Fine, thanks.”
“Alright, I’m gonna stitch you up. Sorry, I don’t have anything to ease the pain.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve rawdogged stitches. Not gonna be the last.” She responds, hissing through the pain of my needle sinking in to make the first stitch.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone use ‘rawdogged’ so elegantly.” I joke, trying to keep things light while I continue stabbing and suturing.
She stops responding, probably to keep her cool. I know this stings like a fucking son of a bitch. She doesn’t budge, though.
Her hair smells like citrus. Well blood and citrus. Intoxicating citrus. I pretend it doesn’t make me want to stick my tongue down her throat and finish sewing her up. I wipe it clean again.
“Alright, that should do. I’m no doctor, but I think it looks pretty good.”
“I really can’t thank you enough. I know you didn’t have to do that. But I really appreciate it.” She says, turning around to look at me. Her neck was looking more and more appetizing.
“Of course. No need to be barbaric.” I say as I gather my paraphernalia.
I unlock the door, and set the supplies on my chair right on the outside before returning and locking the door. She may be sweet to me now, but she’s going to try to rush me any chance she gets. It’s what I would do.
“Alright.” I grab the back of her arm gently and lift so she knows my intention. She stands and turns to face me. This is the closest we’ve been to each other, and my lord, she is even more stunning up close. Her skin is smooth and porcelain-like, but with rosy cheeks and lips. Her cheekbones are high and tight but littered with the perfect amount of tiny freckles across her nose. Her hair is long and dark, and her eyes are bright green. Green but with a bit of gold in this harsh lighting. I stare at her for a second before reaching down to unlock her cuffs. I glance down at her wrist, and as soon as my gaze hits them, I see her start to move.
Fuck! This bitch somehow got out of her cuffs. Why can’t anything be easy?