Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zahra
Elio got into the car, all clean from the blood on him, making it a point to avoid looking at me.
I fed off attention and control. In whatever position or situation I found myself, I always made sure the rein of control remained firm in my grip.
Losing it would shove me right back into that scared sixteen-year-old girl—the spineless Zahra who chose the wrong person to hold her hand under the guise of freedom.
With Elio, I held the reins, but there were just times when my control flickered. Flashing him hadn’t been my plan to get his attention. A part of me just wanted to see his reaction, and boy, was it priceless. His eyes had been lust personified.
It excited me.
It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t because after I left that damn washroom, I felt guilt cloud my senses. What would Devil think if he discovered this new development?
I couldn’t want this man beside me. But I did want to play with him.
I was itching to tease him till he was at his brink—but God—that expression on his face when he walked in and saw me half naked.
The control that had been at the top of my palm. The reaction it had elicited.
After leaving the clutches of those sex traffickers, I’d made all my sexual encounters ride on my terms. We had an equal say.
Don’t grab. Don’t own unless I ask. I never did.
The fear of giving my trust to a man and letting him take me was not something I liked experiencing.
But damn it to hell if I didn’t—somehow—like the way Elio had arrived at that shed and shot Buzzcut, holding me firm to his body afterward.
My pride seemed to be nonexistent.
While I liked to be the one in control most of the time—my gaze shifted from the road to Elio, who had an elbow resting on the window while his tattooed fingers rested on his cheek and his lips, his other hand controlling the steering wheel—I wondered how it would feel to be owned by a man like him.
I wanted to drive him to the edge, make him lose control, let go of the reins, and see what he would do to me.
I had never wanted this … I would probably never go through with it, but it wouldn’t kill to wonder, would it?
Minutes later, Elio pulled up at the mobile restaurant he had talked about. It was small, but a few travel cars were parked around.
“So, how do we pay for the food? You don’t look like you have a phone or an ATM card.”
He turned off the engine before turning to look at me like he was surprised that I’d asked that question. I just knew in my gut that he was about to respond with an indirect insult. The mock concern in his eyes was a dead giveaway.
“I remember we spent hours away from each other, and you seem like a person with a good memory, like the fact that this was not what I was wearing yesterday. Who knows? Maybe after I left you with your captors, I went to get clothes for you and myself … and I never told you I didn’t have any money on me if I recall correctly,” he said with a cautious stare, one that made me feel like I was intellectually inept.
“Well, at least you’re talking to me.”
Seconds passed before he shook his head, getting out of the car. I got out after him, following behind as he walked towards the restaurant entrance.
I spotted a pay phone by the side, making a mental note to ask if it was still in order.
When we entered, the smell of roast beef and late-night greasy food filled my nose, and my stomach grumbled. There were people in booths here and there, but overall, the building had a cozy, secluded, homey feel. I just knew the food was going to be great too.
“My God, I’m so hungry; it’s been years since I’ve gone this long without eat—”
“I’ll find a booth,” Elio cut in rudely before walking away from me.
I shook my head, ignored him, and ordered a variety of food, sending the plates to the booth where Elio was before rushing outside to use the pay phone, which I had confirmed was thankfully still in order.
I borrowed a few coins, assuring them the man dressed in black would cover it.
Entering the phone booth, I placed a call through to Dog’s private cell, and he picked up at the third ring.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Zahra—”
“You’re not dead?” His voice came with a twinge of relief and mock shock, and then I heard footsteps from the other end. “Guys, she’s alive. We can’t use her bedroom for the orgy anymo—hey!”
There was a quick scuffle, followed by Dog’s protest, and then Devil’s voice reached my ear. “Z, are you okay?”
I smiled, leaning on the booth wall. “Yeah, D, I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
I looked around. “Some restaurant out of town, but I’ll be back soon. I was a little hungry.”
I heard him sigh. “You had me worried—you had all of us worried.”
I chucked away my guilt. “Sorry, did you guys find anything about the painting and why I was fucking abducted by really hot French guys? Also why they were asking about some … gold?”
There was a mini silence before I heard Milk’s voice from a distance saying, “Put it on speaker.”
“Where are you calling from?” Upper asked, and I knew from the lagging in his voice and the distant keyboard tapping that he was trying to track the device.
“Some pay phone?” I said, confused.
“Hold on,” he said, and then there was complete silence, a little bit of static, and then, “Can you hear me?” His voice was clearer.
“Yeah? What’s going on?”
“I rerouted transmission to something more private. Safer that way.”
“Okay? So … I take it you guys know what’s going on?”
“Yes,” Milk said. “Dog was able to find the location of the person who’s been exchanging emails with us for months. We traced them to Australia.”
“Australia? A lot of people want this thing,” I said.
“It’s fucking gold. Three hundred fucking million bars. Of course people are gonna kill for it,” Dog responded.
“The painting originally belonged to some dead rich dude, Arturo Garza. Feared by most made men,” Devil added.
Ah … I see.
“He made a map, placed it in the original frame, and made about ninety-nine copies of the painting, and sent them out. It’s basically a quest for gold, and obviously something else,” Milk said.
“We haven’t figured out what that something else is,” Devil said, “but if bosses of criminal families are also hunting for it, it’s gotta be big.”
“Probably intel,” Milk said. “Groundbreaking intel is the only reason these men would want it.”
“The power…” I said. “This is huge. People are getting informed of this quest every day. Forget the intel, and think about how many people out there are killing to get their hands on that gold.”
“I want to get my hands on the gold,” Dog said. “We’ll be made for fucking life if we find the original painting.”
“I’m guessing the one sitting in our car right now isn’t the original. Do we know how each painting is released?”
“It’s spontaneous. Arturo was a mastermind.
He wanted this quest to last for a long time, and it’s working; everyone is barreling down, following the same patterns.
While there’s probably a quest twist somewhere, we have to brainstorm, think like him …
that’s the only way we can win this … if we all want the gold, that is,” Upper said.
“I want the gold,” Milk said. “And I love quests! It’ll be fun.”
“And I want to know what’s got these powerful men cowering,” I said.
“I’m curious too,” Devil joined in. “We can’t talk expressively about this over the phone.”
“I’ll be on my way as soon as I eat.”
“Can you pack something for me too? I’m starving,” Dog said.
“You literally just ate,” Milk said.
“Did I?”
I chuckled. “Okay, guys, are we telling Marino?”
“If this painting is as popular amongst criminals as we’ve found, then he already knows about it,” Upper said.
Of course he had no reason to tell me even if he knew. “I’ll go now; see you guys soon.”
I hung up, making my way back into the building. I walked towards our booth, almost doubling over when I saw the food on the table.
Spaghetti with oil and garlic—aglio e olio—sauced meat in a full bowl, spicy vegetables that smelled divine, three pieces of tomatoes and onion-sauced chicken, and yummy-looking French fries to go with it.
I was practically drooling at the sight, wishing I had a phone to take pictures and send to Dog so he’d cry.
I slipped into the booth, rubbing my hands together as I looked over at the man opposite me, whose gaze was trained on the window beside him, arms crossed against his chest, lost in his world. He didn’t even look over when I arrived.
I dug into the food immediately, diving straight for the water before picking up the fork, rolling the delicious pasta onto it, shoving it into my mouth, and moaning at the taste. “God, fuck yes, this is so good.”
When he didn’t turn my way, I lightly hit his leg from underneath the table, and he turned to me, raising a brow of inquiry.
“You’ve got to try this; it’s heavenly. Why didn’t you order?”
“I’m not in the mood to eat.”
I scrunched my nose. “Do people have to be in a mood before eating?”
“I am not people.”
I shoved another forkful of spaghetti into my mouth, speaking with my mouth full. “Did you stop by here to eat something when we were apart?”
“No.”
“So you’ve not eaten all day as well?”
“Yes.”
I grabbed a piece of sauced chicken, tearing into it like a starved woman, knowing my mouth was as messy as my hands, seeing that Elio’s blank stare had quickly turned into one of irritation as he watched me eat.
Yes! A reaction!
“You’re not avoiding food because you’re ashamed to eat in front of people, are you?
Cause that’s just pitiful,” I said, one of my hands rolling spaghetti onto the fork, shoving it into my mouth, while my other hand brought the chicken to my mouth, tearing a bite as I chewed the spaghetti and chicken together, melting at the combination.
“You’re an animal,” he stated.
“Stop flattering me; I might just fall in love with you.”
“That was not a compliment,” he gritted.