Chapter 35 #2
“I suggest you just collapse,” Nicole said brightly. “Take a nap. Wait for your people to get back. I want a report, as soon as they’re here, got it?”
He didn’t answer, still fighting for air, so she kicked him in the side, making him yelp. “Understand?” she repeated.
“Y-y-yes,” he forced out, coughing.
“Don’t go into shock and die,” she directed sternly.
“That would be weak and stupid. If we don’t have you working here, there’s no reason not to put Jay into the incinerator.
” Her arm flashed out. A hollow thunk, as she whacked him on the side of the head, and Mick toppled to the side, unconscious.
Blood matted his hair. “That’s better,” she said. “That looks good.”
Nicole turned, her gaze flicking over us. “Get those two strapped in,” she said.
I wished for the whole hellish ride that I could reach out and grab Holly’s hand, but they had kept my cuffs on. I tried to do it with my eyes, but poor Holly was staring blankly into space.
I couldn’t gauge how long the trip lasted. Not a lot more than an hour, maybe. Cloth bags were jerked down over our heads before we landed, so there was no way to check out the environment there, either.
When we were dragged off the helicopter, we were bundled into the back of a van. Holly was tossed on top of me, which made it possible to curl one of my hands around her fingers. Hers tightened on mine, holding on for dear life.
After some other unmeasurable unit of time driving, the van stopped and we were hauled out. I struggled to keep my balance. I kept staggering and swaying.
I could hear Nicole’s crisp, click-click footsteps, and the squeak and scuffle of Holly’s athletic shoes, stumbling next to her.
“You turned Mick by hurting his uncle?” I said. “You’re a real piece of work.”
“Oh, but I am,” Nicole replied. “Smelly old geezer doesn’t give much satisfaction, though. He’s a stoic, and he’s too used to pain. I like them nice and fresh and juicy, with so much more to lose. Like you two, for instance. You two will be fun.”
That shut me up. I didn’t want her to spout any more of her shit to terrify Holly.
Another set of footsteps approached. “You have them here? Wait, don’t take them downstairs yet. I want a look at them.” A man’s voice, youngish.
Nicole ripped the bags off our heads. “Be my guest,” she said. “If you must.”
We stood there, hair tousled over our faces, blinking and swaying as a slim, well-dressed man with short hair and glasses approached, and looked us over.
“So this is your Payback Bitch, eh?” he said, lifting up a lock of hair that had fallen over my face. “I feel a little let down. She doesn’t look as feral and ferocious as I expected.”
“Watch out, Vin,” Nicole said. “She’ll bite off your hand.”
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
His eyes widened, as if taken aback that I possessed the faculty of speech, and then laughed at me. “I am Vincent Egan, the head of this operation.”
“You?” I looked over at Nicole, startled. “This guy is the boss? Then what are the hell are you? His errand girl? His nasty little bitch? His rabid dog?”
“Watch your mouth, Kat,” Nicole said, through her teeth. “Or Holly pays.”
Vincent laughed delightedly. “Oh, yes. Feisty, bloodthirsty. This is going to be fun, Nicole. You’ve done well. You’re an excellent nasty little bitch. Good girl.”
Nicole’s smile was frozen stiff. “You’re pushing it, Vin. Get out of my way and let me put them to bed. I’ve got things to do.”
We were dragged down a few flights of stairs, into an area that smelled of moisture, mold, cement dust, and worse things that I did not try to identify. A door opened, and a square-built, muscular guy wheeled a gurney out of a small, dark room that looked like a broom closet.
A thin, still figure lay on it, eyes open, his livid body covered with bruises and lesions.
“Don’t look,” I whispered swiftly to Holly, but she had seen it. Her eyes were huge, bruised-looking, and her lips trembled.
“What the hell is this?” Nicole shrilled. “What happened? Is he dead? Who killed him?”
“Nobody killed him,” the man pushing the gurney said sullenly. “Except for you. You’re the one’s been messing with him. He just croaked, is all. He was sick. And older’n shit.”
I put it together. “Oh God. That’s Uncle Jay, right? Mick’s uncle. You really have been sending Mick nasty videos of you torturing that poor old guy? Oh, Nicole. You just suck.”
Nicole swung around, backhanding me so that I crashed against the wall. “Put them in Jay’s room,” she spat out, her voice vindictive. “Since he no longer needs it.”
“It’s a stinking mess,” the guy said. “There’s blood everywhere, and it—”
“Good. Let them look at it and consider what their future holds.”
We were herded into a gray-painted cinderblock room that looked like it had been a broom closet before. It had a narrow, bloodstained cot. Old, brownish blood was spattered on the floor. There was a bloodstained, prison-style toilet and sink.
It smelled unspeakably bad in there.
Nicole hesitated for a moment. She pulled out a blade, and slashed through Holly’s cuffs. Then she cut mine, shoving me sharply forward so I was still stumbling when the door slammed shut. When the lock engaged, Holly’s mouth began to shake.
I held out my numb, aching arms, and she came right into them.
We found the least bloodstained corner of the room and huddled together on the cold, clammy floor. I cradled Holly in my lap, her head under my chin.
It was so ironic. I could almost laugh, if it wasn’t so awful.
This whole shitty scenario—being captured, imprisoned, threatened with torture and an early death—all that was old hat for me.
I was familiar with that nightmare, because I had always known perfectly well it would end like this for me, sooner or later, once the Petruzzis caught up with me. It was just a matter of time.
But I had clung to the notion that at least this time, I would be alone. That they wouldn’t be able to hurt me by hurting my family. They had already done their worst, so I had nothing left to lose, right?
Hah-hah-hah. The joke was on me.