Chapter 11
Hollis
I can’t even stand to look down at her. I should’ve put a bullet in her head and left her in the car with the inefficient guard.
I run my hands over the top of my head, turning my back to her, but it doesn’t matter that I can no longer see her. The way her dress has flipped up, revealing her panties, is fucking burned into my brain.
I want all the fucking secrets. I want to know the things her dad thought he could use against the Severinos. I want their destruction, but for much different reasons than he does. Is the man bitter? Did his daughter turn against him?
She’s too calm and cool when around them to make me think she’s actually not okay with who they are. Maybe she eased into their world without a hiccup.
I know she’s the key to the entire family, but I also know I didn’t exactly take her only for vengeance.
I could’ve easily gotten the information out of her without driving her three hours to the fucking Texas border, forcing her to cross a low point in the Rio Grande, and bringing her to one of my safe houses in fucking McAllen, Texas.
I could’ve driven her ten minutes away to a back alley and sliced at her skin until she started talking.
No, she’s not here only because of who she is and her connection to the Severino family. This is more than personal vengeance, more than just about Ellie.
I spin back around, facing her once again, but she’s frozen on the bed, despite her arms having to be killing her from the way they’re tied behind her.
I let my eyes roam, unconcerned about the way it makes me feel, uncaring of the absent shame as I spend a little too long looking between her crossed legs.
It’s very possible that I’m just as bad as the Severinos with the temptations running through my mind.
There were hints in the files about Ellie’s murder that Patrick believed her death was in retaliation to a traffic stop or some shit, but it didn’t make sense.
I couldn’t ever believe that was possible, that someone would be angry about a ticket and it led to murder.
I think Patrick was grasping at straws, trying to understand something so unimaginable happening to his little girl.
Could I hurt her? Could I be just like them? Can I punish someone for something they had no control over?
She has to be guilty of something. There’s no way Madelene Lombardi can walk beside a man like Alessio Severino with her head held high and not be just as guilty as him.
Complacency makes me mad enough to spit nails. If I had a way to take them all out, I’d include her fucking father in this as well. Any connection to the family is a bad connection. He’s part of the disease.
It makes me want to call Nash, but just thinking of his laughter and the way he’d joke around about this makes me want to track him down as well.
I leave the room because doing what I really want makes me no better than the men I stole her from.
They’ll come seeking their little toy. It doesn’t matter if she’s a captive or an active participant in their twisted way of life, they’d never leave it alone that I had the ability to take her right from under their fucking noses.
It’s a fucking slap in the face, an insult.
It would make every enemy question their strength.
They can’t let it stand. I’m betting on all of it.
The tiny house doesn’t offer much of a reprieve from her.
She’s silent, unmoving. If it weren’t for the rapid rise and fall of her chest before leaving the room, I’d think she was dead.
She isn’t whimpering or begging to be released against her gag like she did several times before entering the house.
I won’t let myself imagine that she’s just accepted her fate. Women like her don’t ever give up the fight. When she realizes that her compliance won’t help her, she’ll stop just like she did with the begging.
I haven’t been to this house in months, but it looks the same as it always has—sparsely furnished and unassuming. The longer I walk from one end of the house to the other, the angrier I get.
I know I’m pissed at the world, at my dad, at the entire Severino family… at myself.
I shouldn’t have this girl here. I shouldn’t stoop to their level. God, the way she flinched when I got close to her.
I’m no better than every other monster who puts their fucking hands on women. I can reason that I haven’t hit her, that she isn’t hurt, but even the scratches on her legs from the brush at the river make me feel like a piece of shit.
I haven’t decided whether I’m accepting my destiny as an evil man as I reenter the room or if I’m going to pay penance and ask for forgiveness.
She stiffens further when I enter the room, but she hasn’t moved other than that.
She doesn’t fight the restraints, doesn’t beg and plea against the gag in her mouth.
God, her fucking panties.
She tries to wiggle away, the first real sign of life when I brush her skin as I pull her dress down.
The whimpering sound she makes affects me in all the wrong fucking ways. My dad and Patrick would be turning over in their fucking graves if they saw me right now.
I don’t have the integrity they have. I don’t sit back and watch as the justice system fails people over and over. I don’t have a problem getting my hands dirty like they did.
“Calm the fuck down,” I growl. “I’d never risk sticking my dick in a Mafia whore.”
I lift her, shoving her back to the headboard with her in a sitting position, leaning her forward long enough to pull the hood from her head and the gag from her mouth.
To my surprise, she doesn’t scream for help. Mascara streaks down her face. Her lipstick must be that all-day-wear shit because it’s still perfect. The sight of it makes me want to scrub it from her skin. No one’s lips should be that fucking enticing, especially not this bitch’s.
“What’s your fucking name?”
“Mad-Madelene Lombardi,” she says, telling me one truth I already know.
“I want to know everything about the Severino family.”
She blinks up at me, but I know she understands fucking English. Her silence is her refusal.
“Do you have any idea how badly I could hurt you?” I growl, liking it a little too much when she pulls her head back only an inch. “Tell me.”
“They will kill me if I tell you anything,” she says, her words calmer than I’d ever expect from someone in her position.
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
She blinks up at me, her red-rimmed eyes puffy from crying while she had the hood over her head.
“Looks like I’m dead either way.”
I stare at her. I can’t tell if she’s acting tough because she’s an actual badass or if it’s her fear of the Severino family that has earned her silence.
I doubt they will see her strength as a good thing.
I doubt they would ever expect her to remain silent.
Her capture will be viewed as a betrayal all on its own.
I lean in closer, ready to spit another threat I’m not certain I could follow through with, when my phone rings.
I pull it from my pocket, wondering if I’m already fucked when I see Angel’s name on the screen. I leave the room, walking through the kitchen to the back porch before answering.
“Yeah,” I grunt.
“Have you not checked your email?”
“I haven’t.”
“I want an update.”
“On what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You were supposed to rescue that girl. I haven’t heard shit.”
“I tried,” I say. “She was already gone.”
“You lost her?”
Answering yes implies failure, and it’s something I would normally not allow myself to be associated with, but this isn’t exactly normal.
“I went to take a shower and get a couple hours sleep,” I lie easily. “By the time I got back on their trail, she was already gone. I don’t know if they stashed her somewhere or sent her home.”
“So you’re still tracking them?”
“I gave up. Those guys are boring as hell. I figure getting intel was no longer part of the deal. Besides, I can’t get fucking close enough to hear them say shit.”
“Gave up?” He grunts like a father disappointed in me rather than some quasi-boss that only sends us information on jobs because he collects part of the fee. “Guess I can see if Nash wants it.”
“Whatever, man,” I say, trying to keep the nonchalant air I’ve always had with the man. “Tell him the last time I saw the group, they were heading south out of town.”
It’s the complete opposite of where I abducted Madelene. I’m praying the cops and any witnesses are on the cartel’s payroll, and that the new bond the Severinos have with the Cortezes will keep that information from leaking out past the paid men who will be hunting me down.
“I’ll let him know. Fuck, the goddamned new guy is here early.”
“Hey, I think I need a break for a while. I’ll email when I’m ready to get back to work.”
The line goes dead. I don’t even know if the man heard me. He has the phone manners of a fucking distracted toddler.
It isn’t until I walk back into the house and back toward the bedroom that it occurs to me that she didn’t scream. Most people would cry out for help, either to the person on the phone or because they hope someone walking by might hear their cries for help.
She’s different from any woman I’ve ever seen in captivity. There’s no hope in her eyes as I enter the room. It’s as if she’s resigned herself to her fate, like she knows how this ends and she has no power to change it, so why waste the energy?
I know better than to think that makes her an ally. She’s likely to kill me the second she gets the chance.
But as I inch closer to her on the bed, I just can’t bring myself to follow through with any of my threats. I know it would be different if she was a man. I didn’t think twice about putting a bullet in that guard’s head. I won’t fucking lose sleep over it either.
Hurting her seems counterproductive to everything I’ve done, and I have to wonder if that would even change if I had proof that she helped the Severinos hurt others.
Normally the complacency would be enough to move me into action, but there’s just something about this bitch that’s keeping me from crossing that line.
It makes her fucking dangerous, possibly more dangerous than Alessio Severino himself.
That should be reason enough to kill her.