Chapter 21
HARLOW
My head ached like a bitch. It pounded in time with my heartbeat.
I still had a heart to beat; that was a good thing, right? Okay, that depended on what happened in the next hour.
Right now, my hands and feet were tied almost tight enough to cut off the circulation. Was there any chance my men did this? They might have thought I'd enjoy being bound and fucked boneless.
I would. But I knew for certain that wasn't what was going on here.
I tried to blink. I could move my eyelashes slightly, nothing more.
No response came.
No Boner saying, "She's awake, fellows, let's go."
I'd never heard him say the word ‘fellows,’ but it fit with the scenario I was hoping for.
Pushing away the anxiety that stirred in my chest, tightening around my heart before traveling up to my neck and my already aching forehead.
Think calm thoughts. You're alive. That's a start. Whatever's going on here, if they wanted you dead, you'd be dead.
My throat was so dry, when I tried to swallow, it felt like my larynx was scraping against itself.
The inside of my mouth tasted bitter. What was the last thing I ate?
I remembered drinking coffee in my restaurant. This wasn’t the bitter aftertaste from the delicious beverage. No, this was something else. Did someone slip something into my drink?
Cass fell against me.
Getzoff. He was there too, wasn't he? Yes, he fell before the rest of us. It wasn't my drink that was spiked, it was all of ours.
Someone was in a whole heap of shit when I got out of here. I didn't call myself Chef Stabby for nothing. This was going to come out in all its bloody glory. Whoever did this to us, I was going to fuck them up.
I swallowed again and tried to open my eyes. Why did I have sandpaper in my tear ducts?
I blinked it away and glanced around.
Wherever I was, it was dark. The floor underneath was concrete, cold and hard. Perfect for breaking heads.
Other people's heads, not mine.
"Miss St. James," a voice said. Smooth as silk.
I responded with an angry hum, and tried to sit up. The pounding in my head worsened.
"How nice of you to join us." he said.
Definitely a male voice. Not Getzoff. Not any of my men either.
I tried to place it, but I didn't recognize whoever they were.
"What do you want?" I managed to croak out.
"I was wondering the same thing," he said.
Before I could ask, a groan sounded from beside me. What was Detective Getzoff doing here?
I turned my face far enough to see him a couple of feet away. His wrists and ankles were bound as well.
"I heard a rumor." A chair creaked as our captor rose. His silhouette was slender as he moved around the room. "The rumor is, the good detective here might be investigating me and my associates."
Understanding came crashing in on me.
There was a reason they called him Hypnos. It wasn’t because he hypnotized people. He drugged them to get them under his control. Men like him, they thrived on power.
I had to keep that thought in my mind. Try not to give him power over me. At the same time, try not to threaten him too much. If his back was against the wall, he'd come out swinging.
Right now he held all the cards.
"What are you talking about?" Getzoff asked. He struggled to sit up and stare into the shadows. "I'm hunting a serial killer."
Of course he was forthcoming with that information now. He wanted to save his own skin, didn't he? Fair enough. That was why I was here too, in a manner of speaking.
I glanced around.
None of my men were here as far as I could see. What had he done with them? Were they…
No way I was going to finish that thought. That would lead to despair. If I despaired, I wouldn't try as hard to get the hell out of here.
No, they were out there looking for me. They had to be.
"Perhaps Miss St. James can cast some light on the issue," our captor said. "The information came from her restaurant."
I screwed my eyes shut. Cass would have done all he could to cover his tracks. Evidently it wasn't enough.
"You see," Hypnos went on, "we've been keeping an eye on you and your establishment."
"Oh yeah?" I asked. My voice sounded stronger. Good. I didn't want him to think I was beaten, because I wasn't. "My restaurant isn't for sale, if that's what you want to know."
He chuckled. How did he make a chuckle sound evil? I didn't know but he did. It could have been the circumstances under which the chuckle took place, since we were tied up and somewhat incapacitated. That lent itself to a certain level of evil.
Also, from what I could tell, this looked a lot like a lair. Maybe I'd watched too many movies. Whatever, it resulted in the same thing: this man was not on my side.
"I’m not interested in buying it," he said. "If I wanted a restaurant, I would have bought Solomon's after his untimely death."
"Friend of yours?" I asked.
"You might say that," he agreed.
Getzoff looked over at me, confused. "What the hell is going on here?"
I exhaled softly. "This man is a predator. I've been hunting him for years. He and six others raped and murdered my sister." After a beat, I added, “Five of those six are dead."
Getzoff shook his head and struggled against his bindings. "If you're trying to say…"
"That's exactly what she's trying to say," Hypnos said easily, like he was talking about what color marshmallow he preferred. "She murdered them. In cold blood."
I snorted softly. "There was nothing cold about it. I prefer to think of it as retribution for what they did to her. They had it coming."
"And you believe I have it coming," Hypnos said. "So you used this man to flush me out?"
"It worked, didn't it?" I asked. "Here you are, flushed like a piece of shit."
I cried out when he kicked me in the ribs.
"Bitch," he snarled. "You know nothing."
"I don't understand," Getzoff said.
"Allow me to illuminate you." The click of a switch sounded. The room was lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Getzoff and I both stared.
"You." Getzoff looked confused.
"Me," Hypnos agreed. He was the man who sat beside Getzoff at dinner. The man he'd had a cordial conversation with. He'd walked right into my restaurant, sat down and ate, then drugged us.
“Who are you?” I asked.
Hypnos lowered himself back into the chair. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harrison Frankel. Solomon was my cousin."
I should have seen that. The resemblance between them was clear, now I knew to look.
"My cousin and I didn't always get along, but I object to people killing him," Hypnos said.
"I don't know anything about that," I lied.
He gave me a droll look, clearly not believing a word.
"Solomon assaulted your sister. Killed her," he said slowly.
"He went quiet for a while. Then he turned up dead.
The next thing I knew, you bought his restaurant.
Do you think I don't know what's going on under my nose?
" He tapped the side of his. "Next thing I know someone is trying to find me.
You might believe you're subtle, but you're anything but. "
"And yet you took the bait," I said, offering a faint, insincere smile. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
Where was here? We seemed to be in some sort of industrial cannery, judging by the massive vat in the side of the room.
It could fit about ten people standing side by side.
Full of water, it would cover their heads.
A ladder led up to the top of it, and set of stairs led out of the room.
I guessed we were underground somewhere.
"You might want to arrest this man," I said.
Hypnos snorted. "He's in no position to arrest anyone. He's only here as a witness to your crimes. He had nothing to do with this. If it wasn't for you, he'd be tucked up in his bed, comfortable and alive."
"But he's—" I started to say.
Hypnos rose from his chair, pulled out a gun and put a bullet in the middle of Getzoff's head.
The shot rang out, echoing through the space so loud I was going to hear it for days.
"Do you see the blood trickling? Hypnos whispered. If he wasn't an evil asshole, his voice might sound hypnotic. "You did that to him."
He walked over to me and pulled out a knife.
I shrank away, but he put a hand on my shoulder and sliced through the zip tie that bound my hands. Gripping my wrist, he dragged me across the floor. He dumped me beside Getzoff and pressed my hand into the blood that was pooling on the concrete.
"Feel the blood you have on your hands," he said. "Figurative and literal. His death is your fault."
Getzoff"s blood was warm and sticky. The tang filling my nostrils.
I've smelled blood plenty of times before, but this time it made my stomach turn. I wanted to throw up everything I'd eaten for the last twenty-four hours.
Preferably on Hypnos' leather shoes.
I swallowed down the urge. I was tougher than this.
I jerked my wrist away from Hypnos. "What do you want?"
"I want you to stop hunting me and my associates," he said like nothing was simpler. Like they deserved to continue living their lives, when my sister couldn’t.
"The only way I can ensure that is if you're dead." I closed my eyes, sure he was about to stab me or shoot me. I could try to run, but I wouldn't get far with my ankles tied together.
"Same with you," he said. Slowly, he tapped his long fingers against his thigh.
I forced my eyes open and locked my gaze on his. Maybe I could buy myself a little while longer.
"That doesn't work for me," I said evenly. "I have two restaurants to run. I'm a very busy woman, you know. This has been fun and all, but, it’s time I left. Sorry to be a buzzkill for your little party." I shrugged one shoulder.
He chuckled. There it was again, that evil chuckle.
"I’ve never been a fan of the Irish exit," he said.
"I’m not Irish." I snuck out of plenty of parties though. None I wanted to leave more than this.
He stepped closer and put the knife away, somewhere under his leather jacket.
"You're not leaving either. No, I'm going to have a bit of fun with you first."
A chill went through me. I'd always considered the possibility they might use me like they did my sister, but I'd never been faced with it before. Bile threatened to rise again. His shoes were closer now. If I could aim just right…
He must have seen the expression on my face because he actually smiled.
"I’m not going to touch you. Not like that. You're far too tainted." He curled his lip in disgust.
One step toward me and the front of his left shoe would be right there, in front of my nose.
"In fact," he continued, oblivious to the peril the expensive leather was in, "before you die, you should be cleansed." He leaned over, grabbed me by the ankle and started to drag me across the floor, leaving a smear of Getzoff's blood behind me.
The concrete scraped my skin as I went, scrabbling for something to hold onto.
There was nothing.
All I could do was let myself be dragged over to the ladder that led up to the top of the enormous vat.
"It might be a little cold at first, but don't worry, it heats up quickly," he said.
I tried to wriggle away, but he grabbed me, hauling me up onto his shoulder.
I felt him grab hold of the ladder and start to climb. I kicked, struggling to throw myself out of his arms and back onto the hard floor.
He put an arm over me, holding me in place on his broad shoulders. His grip tight until we reached the top of the ladder.
"Say goodbye," he said.
He leaned over the vat and shoved me off him.
I let out a cry as I landed in the water with a splash.