Chapter thirteen #3
As I slam the door shut, his arm shoots through the gap and is crushed between the wood and the doorframe.
He makes no sound, only smashes his body against the barrier between us.
I push up against it in a feeble attempt to keep him out.
“Emma,” Moreno calls. “You are fighting a losing battle. Let us in, and we’ll be gentle. Resist more, and I’ll go with option B.”
“No,” I hiss then swipe at the man’s hand trying to reach around the door to me with my pathetic knife.
The silver slits open a dark blue swirl tattoo on the back of his hand, and blood immediately pours from the wound.
He pulls it away, and I take the opportunity to slam the door closed.
My eyes search frantically for the lock, but as I reach for it, the door crashes open again and knocks me down.
My whole body trembles with the fall, and searing pain engulfs my lower back.
I scramble to my feet as the three men come through the doorway.
The first guard who attacked me in the kitchen grabs my arms, pinning them to my sides. “Listen,” he growls. “Fucking behave.” The second man appears with a rope and ties it around my chest, securing my arms. Moreno appears behind them.
“Finally,” he mutters. “Okay, Kathryn. Now that you’re listening, I’ll tell you how tonight will play out.” He steps forward then crouches slightly so we are at eye level. I suck deeply then fire the spit I was holding in my mouth; it hits him square in the eye.
“Disgusting bitch,” he yells, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at his eyes.
He lifts a hand, and I expect it to crack against my cheek, but the blow doesn’t come.
Instead, he leans down, removes his shoe and sock, then stuffs the material into my mouth before putting on his shoe again.
The vile taste of sweat and unwashed male coats my tastebuds.
I gag, but the sickness has nowhere to go.
“Do you want her roughed up, boss?” one of the goons asks. “Teach her a lesson?”
“No, her death needs to look plausible. Stick to the plan. Take her to the bathroom then clean up that mess,” Moreno says, gesturing to the blood splattering the floor and walls from his henchman.
The big man visibly deflates, obviously disappointed at not getting to toss me around a bit.
“There can’t be any sign that we were here. Make sure the place looks like it did when we arrived before you leave.”
The second guard stands behind me and holds my shoulders firm.
“Walk,” he instructs. I take a single step then stop.
“Walk,” he repeats firmly. When I don’t move, he knees me harshly in my lower back, exactly in the spot still throbbing from my earlier fall.
It stings fiercely, and I wobble but hold my ground.
The next thing I know, my feet are removed from the floor. I am thrown over his shoulder. He stalks out of the room as I wriggle furiously in his grip. As we step through the doorway, he swings me to the side and the top of my head cracks off the frame.
“Be fucking careful,” Moreno snaps. “She needs to look untouched.” My captor grunts but continues on course to my bathroom. When we arrive, I see the tub is already filled with hot water; steam rises from the smooth surface. He sets me back down then unties me.
I feel a sharp prick on my left arm. “A sedative,” Moreno advises.
“What?” I shriek as the tiredness washes over me. I fall to the floor and everything goes black.
***
“Emma,” Mrs. D’s panicked voice resonates between my ears.
I try to blink my eyes open, but they stay firmly closed.
I’m cold. Everywhere feels wet. I try once again to open my eyes.
A small slit of light appears, but it hurts to look at it.
Every part of me is sore. I’m exhausted.
“Emma,” the voice says again, then I hear her speaking to someone.
The next time I open my eyes, I’m met with what I think is an empty hospital room.
Machines beep and trill, but the room is dark with only small nightlight glowing softly.
I glance to the windows and, sure enough, night has fallen.
As I go to lift my hands, I find they are held fast to the bed rails tied with something soft.
Over my nose and mouth, I have a mask of some sort.
Terror takes hold of my body, and I scream.
As I pull fiercely at my bindings, the room door swings open and a nurse runs in.
“Emma,” she says firmly, coming to my side.
“Calm down, you’re safe.” Her words are loud, slow, and deliberate.
She places one hand on my arm while reaching with the other to turn on a side light.
“You are in Kings College Hospital.” She gently removes the mask from my mouth and begins to untie my wrists.
“What happened?” I gasp. “Where’s Moreno?” The words shoot out, but they sound barely audible.
“Who is Moreno?” she asks, her voice soft. Puzzlement flits over her features before she resumes her kind but impassive expression.
“The man who threatened to kill me,” I say sharply. “Do the police have him?”
“Emma, you were found on your own in your apartment after attempting suicide. Your housekeeper alerted 999. No one else was in the property.”
“No! I would never…” My voice trails off before I can say more, as a second person enters the room. Damon.