Chapter Twenty-One

Joslyn

As I stand there in the parking garage, staring at Troy Cass’s taillights, a feeling of sorrow and rage unlike anything I’ve ever known comes over me. It makes me want to rip things apart, to destroy them, to set the entire fucking world on fire.

As anger eats away every positive emotion I possess, part of me expects Troy to come zooming back, ready to fight and take me on like a man. Instead, I just stand there with my mouth hanging open. Somehow, I thought confronting Troy and fighting with him would help fill the aching void in my soul that he ripped open with the devastating news of his youthful betrayal.

It didn’t.

It didn’t help at all.

Because I’d been wrong all this time.

After a few moments, I realize he’s not coming back. So why does that bother me more than anything? My heart thuds in my chest and my face flushes hot with anger, but I could be feeling one hundred times worse and still not expect Troy to come rushing back just to fight with me.

It’s time to grow up. I’m an adult, and I have to work out my anger in a healthy way.

Pressing my lips into a firm line, I storm out of the parking garage. Darkness is falling, and the Vegas Strip is lit up with the best, brightest, and wealthiest crowds. Normally, seeing people buzzing over my hometown cheers me up – it makes me think that, somehow, Vegas will survive exactly the way I want it to. It reminds me of my father and his position of power – without him, Vegas would be completely different.

But not tonight. Tonight, all I can think about is how much I want to put my hands on Troy Cass’s shoulders and pull him against me. And he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my love…he doesn’t even deserve my desire.

Or maybe he does. Was he really the one who saved me after all?

I push my way through the crowds, ignoring the indignant cries of tourists until I stand in the lobby of the Armónico casino. It’s only when I’m there that I realize why I came. I storm through the floor up to the arcade and grab my keys from my bag. Tribe of Amazons is dark and closed for the night, but that doesn’t mean I can’t lock myself inside and beat a punching bag with Troy’s face on it until I feel nauseous from the effort.

As soon as I step into my lair, a calm feeling of relief washes over me. Being in Tribe of Amazons calms me – hell, it’s almost better than being home, to be honest. The smell of the freshly-waxed floor and the bleach used on all towels wafts a delicious perfume to my flared nostrils, and I take a moment and breathe in before turning on the lights and locking the door behind me.

Taking my iPhone from my purse, I plug it into the stereo and put on the angriest album I can think of – At The Drive-In – and slick my hair back behind my ears. As soon as the screaming vocals and thumping bass fill the room, I start throwing punches and kicks like my life depends on it.

Closing my eyes, I pretend I’m attacking Troy. I don’t even know why I’m so focused on being angry at him. He saved me. Did he?

Instead of focusing on Troy, I pretend I’m beating the shit out of my own anger, and I channel the pure rage in my heart into something usable. After only a few minutes, I’m covered in sweat. My adrenaline starts pumping as the song changes, and I spin around, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick to the punching bag that leaves my whole body shaking.

I punch, kick, swing, and thrust to the entire album. By the time the first song rolls back around on repeat, I shake from head to toe. Sweat pours off me, and my hair clings to my scalp. When I look in the mirror, my normally-pale face resembles a bright red beacon of pissed off flesh. But I don’t care. I don’t have anyone to look good for. And while I don’t feel better, exactly, I feel drained and pleasantly exhausted. I know that now, I can go home and get some rest while figuring out what to do.

I take a long shower in the locker room, standing under the hot water and pressing my forehead to the tiled walls. The water flows like a soothing balm over my aching muscles, and by the time I towel off, I realize just how tired I’ve made myself. A quick glance at the Fitbit app on my phone shows me that I’ve burned over eight-hundred calories. Normally, I’d be over the moon about such a high-intensity workout. But right now, I want to forget about the horrible day I’ve had and go straight to sleep.

When I lock up Tribe of Amazons, the Armónico bustles with guests. It’s getting late now, and the older crowd plays blackjack and slots. The college kids have all left for the clubs, and now it’s bachelor parties hollering at cocktail waitresses and old, rich men with gorgeous young gold diggers hanging off their arms. Rolling my eyes, I push past the crowd and outside onto the Strip. I want to grab some greasy to go food before I drive home.

Outside, the hot and arid air hits me like a punch to the gut. It feels good compared to the humid gym, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I need a carb fest. I walk slowly down the sidewalk, avoiding the inevitable piles of frat-boy vomit. Yeah, maybe I can curl up and watch something stupid to distract myself from the ache in my heart. The ache that just won’t let up. I don’t normally let myself veg out, but after such a hard workout – and the horrible day I’ve just had – it feels like just what the doctor ordered.

The din grows quieter as I walk away from the more populated parts of the Strip. I’m almost to my car when I see a collarless dog with no leash dart into an alley.

“Hey, wait,” I call. “Puppy, it’s okay! Come back!”

The dog doesn’t emerge, and I have a sinking feeling that if I don’t do something now, the poor thing is going to either wind up on the pavement or with animal control by morning. Clicking my tongue against my teeth, I jog quietly into the alley, checking out all the dark corners as I do so. The dog stands there, shaking with fear.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, stepping forward and holding out my hand. “It’s all right – don’t worry, buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The dog backs farther into the alley. A haunted memory of my childhood dog, Boots, overtakes me, and I start to cry. I can’t let this dog meet a fate worse than death. I won’t. I may not be able to control my own shit show of a life, but I can save this defenseless animal.

How come I can save anyone and everyone around me, but I can’t even come close to saving myself? I brush the question away as I creep forward, careful not to scare the poor animal further. I croon low and soft to him, and he stops shaking. Within a foot, he turns his head toward me, staring at me with liquid brown eyes.

“It’s okay, puppy,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m here to help you.” So much for my quiet night home alone, I think, wondering how I’m going to accommodate a stray who probably isn’t even housebroken.

That’s when I feel a pair of strong hands gripping my shoulders.

“Hey.” I jump back and whirl around. “Is this your do–”

It’s the last word out of my mouth before the man presses a rag to my mouth and I crumple to my knees.

***

“I think she’s coming to.”

“She fell for the stray dog thing, huh? Dumb bitch.”

“Shut your mouth, she’s awake!”

My head pounds and throbs while my mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. In spite of that, my senses tingle around my twisted stomach. Knots have formed in every available space. Letting out a strangled moan, I open my eyes to see the inside of what appears to be a warehouse. Bright fluorescent lights glare from the ceiling, only adding to the pain in my head.

Dante Giovanetti steps in front of me, a smirk on his fat face. “Ah, Sleeping Beauty. You were asleep for so long you missed dinner. I’m sorry to say that we didn’t save you anything.” He points to a crumpled fast food bag on the floor. “But maybe Rocco will share.”

I glance down to see the dog happily munching kibble out of a silver bowl.

“Let me go.” My voice sounds much stronger than I feel. “What are you doing, Dante? You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s what you think. But really, Joslyn, haven’t you learned anything? Don’t you know it’s a bad idea to go into dark alleys by yourself?”

“Let me go, and you won’t regret it.”

“Ha.” Dante throws his head back and laughs. “And just tell me – what would I regret?”

“Kidnapping me because you didn’t get a chance to keep your damn casino.”

Dante gives me a strange look. “What, you think I lost the Mona Lisa? Are you insane, young lady?” He steps forward and shakes his head. “Maybe that chloroform fried a few of those brain cells.”

I blink, not following him.

Dante snorts, holding up a pair of garden shears in his right hand and flailing the dull blades through the air in front of me. “What, you don’t know?”

A strange, paranoid feeling seeps into my stomach, and suddenly, I feel like I’m going to be sick. The nausea is powerful and intense, and I take slow, deep breaths through my nose until it passes.

“Your old man lawyered up.” Dante gives me a big, cheesy smile. “He’d finally had enough of my threats. So, he didn’t retire after all. What, he didn’t tell you?” When I don’t reply, Dante whistles and shakes his head. “That lawyer was very expensive too. Cost me a pretty penny.”

The news is a punch in the gut, but I bite the inside of my cheeks, so my expression doesn’t betray my true feelings.

“Of course, I didn’t lose the Mona Lisa. And the Caldwell brothers were foiled, yet again, by the great Dante.” He puffs his chest out, clearly proud of his blackmailing scheme. “Thanks to your daddy.”

“So…”

“You want to know why I bothered to kidnap you, right?”

I lift a brow. “A little hint would be nice.”

“Dear, if you haven’t come to understand me yet, I’m afraid you’re dumber than I thought.” Dante stops his arrogant pacing to give me a little chuckle. “I couldn’t possibly just win, could I? No. I wanted my cannoli, and I wanted to eat it too.”

“What?” I squint at him. “You’re not making any sense. Let me go, Dante. This isn’t funny.”

“No, but you know what is funny?”

I give him a blank stare.

“I managed to kidnap a female defense trainer who runs a support group for other women.” As Dante cackles, a maniacal grin spreads across his face. “Isn’t that the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever heard? Your career is over, bitch. Over.”

“You only kidnapped me because you wanted revenge?” I ask warily. “Are you serious?”

Dante’s grin fades, and I shiver as his face grows completely blank. “I wouldn’t be so flippant if I were you.” His voice drips liquid nitrogen, and as much as I want to stay strong, the very sound conjures the worst kind of fear in my gut. “After all, you’re the one tied to a chair. And you’re not getting out of here, not until I’m ready to let you go.”

I glance down and shudder when I see that someone has removed my sneakers and socks. In the harsh, bright light of the warehouse, my missing pinky toe is more noticeable than ever.

“After all.” Dante’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “You’ve still got all those toes on your left foot!” He laughs then, and he’s joined by a couple of thugs who have been sitting in the corner. The sound jars me, and I wonder how I didn’t notice them before.

Of course, Dante didn’t do this alone, I think as my rage begins to build.

“You had to have thugs do all your work for you,” I snarl. “Couldn’t even manage to kidnap a one-hundred and ten-pound woman, could you?”

Dante’s cheeks turn purple with anger. He moves so quickly that I don’t have time to dodge the hard slap that knocks my head sideways.

“You’d better watch your tongue,” Dante growls. “You forget who’s really in control here, you pain in the ass cunt. Your father knows it because he’s a smart man. But you’d better fucking remember before I cut your tongue out, just to watch you bleed.”

Fear washes over me, and I swallow as a fresh coat of sweat breaks out all over my body. Dante gives me a scrutinizing look, and I know that he senses my rising terror. This is my worst nightmare, come back to haunt me. But this time, no one is going to help me. I’m at the mercy of Dante Giovanetti, and even if Troy didn’t hate me, he’d never be able to find me. A torrent of regret washes over me.

Why the hell did I have to say all of those awful things? Why couldn’t I just have accepted the obvious bond between us and gotten over my first impressions of Troy? Listened to him? Learned from him? Loved him?

Thinking about it makes me want to cry. I’m going to die never having put my best foot forward in a personal relationship outside of the one with my father.

“Hey, you,” Dante calls over his shoulder, keeping one eye locked on me. “Bring those rusty shears over here. I don’t like these. They’re too new. Too sharp.”