CHAPTER 58
Frankie
I’m a prisoner.
A prisoner out in the open, walking down the Vegas Strip, dressed in a sleeveless silk Prada dress so tight and so sheer that a passerby could give me a pelvic exam.
I’m well aware of what I look like in this dress, the fuck-me heels, and the crazy-heavy dangly earrings that’re pulling my earlobes down toward my shoulders and giving me a splitting headache.
Not to mention the teased hair and makeup that completes my ensemble.
But I do all this to please Niko, to distract him—at least temporarily.
Because he doesn’t believe a woman’s a woman unless she’s wearing an entire face of makeup.
That includes eyelashes, foundation, concealer and cheekbone highlighter, lip liner, eyeliner, contouring, powder…
enough for a drag burlesque performance.
I’m Niko’s fantasy come to life today. My fake eyelashes are so thick and long that if I blink I can barely see where I’m going. The only difference between me and a street whore is that I’m not carrying a bag.
A bag would mean I have possessions, like a real human being. And Niko has made it perfectly clear that I’m no longer human in his eyes. I’m not even an animal. I had dogs when I was little, and they were treated far better than what I’ve endured in the past two weeks.
But I’m alive, and there’s been no talk of any of the MacLaines coming to harm. Niko would absolutely tell me if they had because he’d enjoy watching me fall to ruin.
Niko ranted and raved at first about the MacLaines, but when no one came looking for me, he eventually stopped. I made sure he did. I offered myself up for punishment to keep him focused on anything other than Sweetbriar, Yosemite Ranch, and the MacLaines.
And I made sure he had all the drugs he wanted.
And that’s been my strategy, and I’ll stick to it for as long as it works. If it loses its appeal, I’ll figure out another way to keep him engaged.
Like a toddler.
Niko squeezes my hand so hard that I nearly yelp in pain. I clamp my mouth closed. He’ll see any kind of reaction as a complaint, which makes me nothing but trouble to him. I can’t be trouble. I have to make him happy because if Niko’s not happy, he’ll punish me.
I have to keep him entertained because if he’s not entertained, he’ll do far more than punish me.
All this means that if Niko ever gets bored or displeased, he’ll have no reason to keep me around.
“What the fuck are you thinking over there?” he snaps, yanking me tight to his side. “Shoes too tight on your little whore feet?”
My pulse spikes but I hide my fear, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek. “No baby. Not at all. I love them!”
“Good. You should—they cost a fucking fortune. So did that fucking dress.”
I remember when I used to find his thick Slavic accent sexy. I have no idea what I was thinking back then. Now, the accent sends shivers skittering up my spine. That accent makes me feel like puking my guts out.
“Don’t piss me off,” he adds. “You have no idea just how bad things will get if you ever cross me again. Understood?”
“Of course, baby. Understood.”
The threat isn’t even necessary. It’s just extra fun for him, because we’re in public, and he loves to see me cower in public.
The real threats come in private, multiple times a day.
His favorite threat—the one that gets him leaning into my face to judge my reaction—is the one where he threatens to kill me and dump my corpse in the middle of Sweetbriar’s Main Street.
“That way, all your new friends will be able to see you one last time.”
I pretend that I have no idea what he’s talking about, that I haven’t made any friends in Sweetbriar, that I was only passing through.
Niko isn’t a stupid man. A stupid man would’ve gotten himself killed long before he could climb to the highest echelon of a crime syndicate. He knows I’m lying when I tell him I came back to him because I can’t live without him, that I’m madly in love with him.
He knows I came back because the jig was up. Because he found where I was hiding. Because someone beat his men to hell and back on a public street trying to defend me. He knows I ran back to him to protect others.
He’s not stupid, but he’s evil. And the truth is, he gets off on the game. The torture game. He loves forcing me to pretend that I love him, that I love to suck his cock and fuck him whenever he wants.
He loves the game more than he would ever love another human being.
I hate him. I want him dead. True, I don’t have the stomach to kill him myself. But I sure wouldn’t stand in the way of someone else taking out the trash.
I’d wear a bright red dress and matching party hat to his funeral.
Niko’s phone rings, and he stops dead to answer it. He yanks my hand hard to make sure I stand still, right in the middle of the sidewalk, and I turn my back to him to give him privacy for his call, just as he’s trained me to do.
I don’t listen in, but I can hear the conversation anyway.
It’s half Russian, half English, and Niko isn’t yelling, which means whoever’s on the other side of the line is important.
More important than Niko. As far as I can tell, Niko is a senior manager of whatever organization he’s in.
He’s plenty high up, but he’s not the boss.
I keep this information to myself, of course. It’s not like I’m trying to take down the mob. It’s not like I’m even trying to take down Niko. Or escape. I might not even be trying to survive. I’m just trying to save the man I love.
And his family.
My throat hitches, and I struggle to swallow down my emotion. I need to stop thinking about Special K. I need to stop thinking about love. For the good of everyone, I need to believe that this is my present and my future and the extent of whatever miserable reality is possible for me.
Behind me, Niko continues his conversation.
As pedestrians avoid me and throw me glares of irritation, I stay put.
But I take a moment to scan the area around me.
Folks are walking back and forth on the Strip, enjoying their vacations in Sin City.
I watch a group of young women giggling as they walk, and I find myself smiling.
It’s nice to see that there’s still happiness out in the world. Normalcy.
I’m thankful that Niko’s phone call is dragging on.
Just standing here people-watching makes me almost feel like something other than the prisoner of a lunatic killer.
I can pretend that I’m walking to the parking garage after my shift, looking forward to getting home, showering and changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt, and opening a can of food for Pussy.
For a moment, I’m lost in a pleasant snippet of remembered happiness. And the tears come when I think of how much I miss my damn cat.
And then, I see them.
Oh, no. This can’t be.
Oh.
Shit.
I see a very tall man, muscular with thick black hair. By his side is a beautiful woman with long dark hair wearing custom-made cowboy boots. There’s a little pregnant pooch under her shirt.
Pregnant.
The man turns, and I suck in air when I see his violet eyes. So much like Special K’s.
It’s Declan and Summer.
Their faces brighten just before they look confused but try to smile through it. They’re just about to wave, when I shake my head violently, my lips pulled in a line of warning.
It doesn’t matter. They’re curious and walking toward me, smiling but not understanding what they’re seeing.
Of course, they don’t understand. They thought I was in love with Special K. They thought I was good for him. They even supported our decision to take off together for as long as it took to keep me safe.
I must be a liar in their eyes now. An imposter.
I think quick.
“Sure! I’d be happy to take your picture!” I reach out my hand to cross the space between us before Niko can stop me. I mumble under my breath as Summer’s smile freezes on her face. “Give me your phone. Now. Go with it.”
The uncertainty on their faces increases. Declan looks from me to Niko and back again, catching on.
“Get closer together,” I tell them, my voice high and overly friendly. “That’s it! That’s lovely!” I pretend to snap a picture. “Hold on—let me change the focus and I’ll get one more!”
Behind me, Niko finishes his phone call, and I hear the sound of his thousand-dollar shoes tapping along the sidewalk, coming closer. Quickly, my thumbs fly over the keyboard and then I make a show of taking the last photo before I practically toss the phone back to Summer.
I nearly jump when Declan taps my upper arm and says, “Thank you for taking our picture. We really appreciate it.”
I immediately whip around and slip my hand into Niko’s claw. We walk away, continuing in the direction we were originally headed.
“I hate tourists,” he spits out. “Nothing but vermin infesting this city.”
“I know, right?” I sigh, pretending to agree with Niko while checking to ensure Summer and Declan have stayed behind. They’ve read the message by now. I hope to hell Declan doesn’t decide to be a hero.
Niko is scowling at me, his eyes dark with suspicion. I reach around with my free hand and squeeze his forearm, hoping the gesture comes off as affectionate and not the desperation it is.
“Since when do you not like tourists?” he asks me. “You’d be penniless if not for the desperate bastards happy to empty their wallets in exchange for a little bump and grind.”
I laugh, as if I’m amused by his quick wit. I don’t bother to point out that there’d be no Las Vegas without tourists. Or that tourists are the life’s blood of his illegal activities. Without tourists, who would he steal from, blackmail, and sell drugs or girls to?
Or that his own Russian ass isn’t from anywhere around here.
Instead, I say, “You know, you look super-hot in that suit. I like how it shows off your chest.”
The lie makes me feel only half nauseated because I’m riding on a high. I just saved Declan and Summer. They heeded my warning and did what I told them.
I saved them, and I couldn’t be happier.
And all it took was one desperate text message: you don’t know me he’ll kill you special k can’t’ follow me not safe PLEASE