Chapter 37 #2
Olivia would get her suffocation of Gio after all.
And I was plenty okay with that this time.
“Take off your clothes,” Gio commanded.
My mouth went dry and a chill ran down my spine, moving faster than the blood weeping from my stab wound. The hatred in her eyes dwindled and a cold, hard look replaced it. “If I don’t?”
“They’ll come off no matter what, and what we’ll do to Nathan if you refuse, it won’t be enjoyable to watch.”
Her hands moved deliberately, undoing the rest of the buttons on her blouse.
She moved at such a slow pace because she didn’t want to undress, but I was also betting it was because she was trying to buy time.
Gio was young and fit, with a high metabolism.
If she’d used all the sedative in the bottle, and he had an empty stomach, it could start hitting him in as little as ten minutes.
It was silent in the room, other than her rapid breathing, and the voice in my head that was currently screaming. She finished with the shirt, leaving it open on her shoulders so her pink bra peeked out.
She bent gingerly and pulled off one shoe, followed by the other. Her socks were peeled off. Trembling hands drifted to her pants. The zipper was quiet as she tugged it down, tooth by tooth.
“Faster,” Gio ordered.
The pants fell down, exposing her gorgeous curves decorated with all that pink lace. Everyone watching inhaled sharply, although mine was in horror. Purple-red raised lines tattooed her legs. Welts from the rod she’d been beaten with.
“A woman after all,” he said appreciatively. He leered over every inch of exposed flesh, and rage threatened to pull me apart.
“Before we go further,” her voice was unnervingly calm, “may I have another glass of wine?”
He motioned to the bar, “Go ahead.”
Every action was slow and methodical as she padded to it. The open white shirt of her pilot uniform couldn’t be shed with the handcuffs on. So when she reached the bar, Carlo ordered her to stand still. His knife sawed through the shirt fabric, cutting it away from her shuddering body.
“What happened to your back?” Gio said, repeated by Carlo.
Her words were tight. “I was in an accident.”
He made his “tsk, tsk” noise. “You should have had cosmetics done. It looks awful.”
Despite what she’d gone through, she managed to smile. “The procedure’s expensive. Why do you think I took that terrible job of working for you?”
The realization hit me softer than the rod had, but not by much. She was so self-conscious of her wounds, she’d taken the shady job to save up for treatments. She wanted the physical reminder of that dark night gone.
Gio’s comment about her back seemed to have brought her back on her game, even though she was nearly naked in a room full of men. She stopped shaking, her posture confident again. She poured the glass of wine, took a sip, and her eyes narrowed on the Italian she’d drugged.
“This wine is good,” she said, a lie that only I caught.
Gio smiled, proud. “It’s from my family’s vineyard in Lazio.”
She leaned back against the counter and sipped slowly, pretending to savor it as she stalled for time.
The back of my shirt was drenched with blood, and I hoped it wouldn’t be much longer, or the loss of blood could impact my speed. I considered different scenarios for how to escape, and the best ones all depended on her doing the bulk of the work.
Behind me, the door banged open and Vitale charged in, an ugly glare fixed on his face. “Who do you work for? CIA?”
“No, Vitale, I work for you.”
His posture was stiff with anger. “Tell me what they know, and we can get this over with quickly. It doesn’t have to be too unpleasant.”
“We’re way past unpleasant,” I muttered.
“Do you want this woman to die?” He took in the sight of her, all bruises and lingerie, but she stood strong under his scrutiny. Defiant. “Is she willing to die for you?”
It wouldn’t come to that. I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider that possibility. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“We’ll see. Carlo, what do you suggest?”
“The feet are the most painful.”
“Then we do the feet. I don’t want this to take all night.”
Carlo grabbed her under the arm and began to drag her to the desk, but she struggled.
“Wait.” It was out of my mouth without thought. “Why did you attack the hangar this morning?”
Vitale arched an eyebrow. Perhaps he wondered if he should explain to me how interrogation worked and who was responsible for asking the questions.
“Because the Hayward woman could tie Constantine to Juric,” Gio answered, swaying on his unsteady feet. “They all had to go.”
Vitale threw a displeased look at his son. The drug was starting to get to him. Good. He was weak, and the time to distract Vitale was now, while Gio was still conscious.
“Just like Renzo,” I said, “when he wanted half of the deal you’re working with Amin, right?”
Vitale hesitated, and his eyes narrowed toward his son. “What is he talking about?”
“Is . . . lies.” The empty wine glass slipped from Gio’s hand and thudded to the rug beneath his feet.
“Are you all right?” Carlo asked.
“Fine.” But the couch jostled when Gio collapsed on it to sit beside me, and the shifting made me bite back a groan. It was hitting him fast now. Did the men notice his eyes were hazy and unfocused? Because they didn’t notice the way Olivia subtly drifted closer, or how she snuck a glance at me.
Oh, she had some sort of plan, and I was grateful. At this point, we needed to try anything. I was desperate to avoid what was rapidly becoming unavoidable.
When Gio spoke, his words were too slurred to understand. He reached out for her, but she stepped back and he tumbled face-first off the couch.
“What’s happening to him?” she asked. She bent and made a production of trying to help him, but what she was really doing was helping herself to his knife.
“Get back,” Carlo ordered.
She had a hard time getting the blade to flip open, and worry twisted my stomach that she wasn’t going to make it in time. Carlo was almost on top of her when the blade sprang up from the handle. He wrapped a hand around her arm and yanked her away from the nearly unconscious Gio—
Only for her to turn and sink the knife into his right bicep, all the way to the hilt. The black wand bounced to the rug, and she kicked it away while he screamed in pain.
We had to hurry. That scream was going to bring more men in here.
She’d stabbed him quickly, and when she’d pulled the knife back, blood shot out all over her hand. The screaming man was then put on the floor by her unwounded knee that went straight to his groin.
Vitale stumbled back, stunned at the turn of events. As I suspected, he didn’t draw a gun . . . probably because he didn’t have one.
“Stay back,” she yelled, swinging the bloody knife at him that she’d just proven she was more than willing to use.
“Cut me free,” I commanded, urgent. The taut cord vibrated as she sawed through it, fraying more with each pass. It broke loose, and she tried to slice through the plastic ties that held my hands together next—
Shit!
Carlo was up on his feet.
I grabbed her arm and twisted, throwing her away from the attack, and the pain in my back was so intense it felt like it was ripping apart and my vision went black.
“Look out!” she shouted.
I put Carlo down, kneeling on the man’s windpipe until there was a horrible gurgling sound. I glared at the man pinned beneath me, then her and the knife still clutched in her hand as she pointed it at Vitale.
“Help us get out of here,” I said in English to Carlo, “and I can get you immunity.”
“What?” It came from her teeming with betrayal. It wasn’t like this offer sat well with me either. I was sure the image of her bruised legs would never fade from my memory, but this was big-picture. Revenge wouldn’t matter if we were both dead.
The doors to the office burst open and slammed into the walls on either side as two of Vitale’s men came in brandishing guns. One of them snatched Olivia up and threw her hard against the desk, a 9mm pressing her head down until her cheek was flush against the desktop.
She closed her eyes, like this was the end.
If that man pulled the trigger, I was sure we would both die from that bullet.