Chapter Seventeen

Isabelle

“This is not what I signed up for,” Neil said.

Scott rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can't believe I hired such a pussy.”

I sat on the ground in the middle of the room, my hands still bound in front of me and a gag in my mouth. The three men—Neil, Scott, and a guy I didn't know—stood near the foot of the stairs. The two men wanted to leave, but Scott clearly felt the need for an audience.

“Look, man,” said the guy I didn't know. “Just give us the money you promised us to snatch her, and we're gone.”

“Yeah,” Neil agreed. “We don't want to be part of a murder here, man.”

“You're already a part of it,” Scott sneered. “Why not stay around for the money shot here?”

Neil shook his head. “We're not a part of it. We didn't do anything.”

“You helped me snatch the bitch,” he demanded. “At the very least, you're already an accessory.”

“I can't believe this,” said the other guy. “I can't fucking believe this.”

“You didn't tell us it was going down like this,” Neil said.

“What does it matter?” Scott screamed.

“It fucking matters a lot!” Neil shouted back. “You said you were going to scare her—”

Scott's bark of laughter was bitter. “She looks pretty fuckin' scared to me, don't you think?”

I looked from one man to the other and then at Scott. He was really going to do it. He was really going to kill me. And the only thing these other two assholes were worried about was being legally responsible for it. They didn't give a damn that he was going to hurt—let alone—kill me. All they cared about was themselves.

“Just give us the money you promised us,” Neil said. “And then Oscar and I are outta here. Do whatever the hell you want, just leave us out of it.”

Scott sighed and shook his head. “Unbelievable. What a couple of first rate pussies.”

“Think whatever you want, man,” Oscar said. “But I'm not into this.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Scott snapped. “That I was going to make her tea and cookies?”

Neil shook his head. “I had no idea you were going this far,” he said. “This is not what you sold this job as.”

Scott shook his head. “Fine. Whatever.”

He pulled a couple of envelopes out of his back pocket and threw them at the two men. The envelopes hit Neil in the chest and fell to the ground. As he bent to pick them up, he looked me in the eyes. I tried to plead with him to stop this. To not let this happen. I begged him with my eyes to not leave me alone with Scott. And for a moment, I saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes. I thought he might help me.

But the moment passed.

Neil scooped up the envelopes and handed one over to Oscar. Refusing to meet my eyes again, he lowered his head and the two men turned and started to head upstairs.

“Remember,” Scott called after them, “at the very least, you're an accessory. If you go to the cops or anybody else, I'll take you down along with me. Your fingerprints and DNA are all over everything. Nobody will believe that you're not up to your dicks in this, and you'll do just as much time as me. Keep that in mind, assholes.”

The two men looked at him, and any hope I might have had that they’d stand up to him to keep him from killing me evaporated entirely. I saw the look of acceptance in their eyes as they nodded grimly and turned, heading up the stairs. I wanted to scream at them, call them out as the cowards that they were. My blood was going to be on their hands, and they would rather live with that on their consciences than stand up and do the right thing.

Scott was right about one thing—they were first rate pussies.

When they'd gone upstairs, we listened to their footsteps crossing the hardwood floor above. A moment later, the front door closed and they were gone. I was alone with Scott. And he was going to kill me. The electric jolt of fear shot through me, and I couldn't keep my body from trembling.

He sighed and shook his head again. “It's just so hard to find good help these days, isn't it?”

Scott looked at me and gave me a smile that made my blood run cold. It was a smile I hadn't seen before. It was cold—predatory. It was the smile of a man who was going to not only commit murder—but one who was going to enjoy it.

He grabbed a chair from the corner and set it down beside me. Pulling me to my feet, he pushed me down into it. I started to get to my feet, to mount some kind of protest, but he delivered a vicious backhand that had me seeing stars again.

“Try to get up again, and I'll cut your fucking heart out,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

The whole time I'd been with Scott, I lived in fear of him. He was abusive and cruel. But I'd never actually feared for my life. I'd never thought that he would actually do anything more than rough me up. I never in my most horrifying nightmares would have imagined that he'd actually kill me.

He looked at me with disdain and took the gag out of my mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fought to keep them from falling. The last thing I wanted to show him was fear or weakness. But I couldn't help it. They rolled down my cheeks anyway.

“You don't have to do this, Scottie,” I said.

“Actually, I think I do,” he said. “You made me look bad in front of my boys. I can't have that, sweetie.”

“I—I didn't mean to,” I pleaded. “I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.”

He laughed hard and loud. “Oh, we're well past that point, Isabelle,” he said. “Well, well past that point.”

I gave him my best doe eyes. “We don't have to be,” I said. “We can start over. Start from scratch and maybe build something new and better? Together?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You watch way too many movies if you think you can flash me that innocent little smile and make me believe that you want to try it again,” he said. “Do you really think I'm that stupid?”

“I don't think you're stupid at all, Scottie,” I said. “In fact, I think—”

“Shut up,” he shouted. “Just shut the fuck up.”

He was right, of course. I was hoping to play on his feelings and trick him into letting me loose. It was a stupid, desperate play, but it was the only one I had. And it had obviously failed spectacularly. I was at his mercy.

He walked over to a corner of the basement and came back wheeling a rolling cart. A sheet covered the top of the table, and a sense of dread stole through me. I'd seen enough movies to know that whatever was under the sheet wasn't going to be good news for me.

The cart stopped beside me like the dessert tray in a restaurant. He grinned as he gripped the corner of the sheet.

“Ready for the big reveal, sweetheart?” he asked.

Sweetheart. When Jameson had called me that, I hated it—I made him stop. Now I wished it was him saying it to me.

I wanted to look away, wanted to look anywhere but at Scott or at that damned cart—but couldn't. My eyes remained fixed on the sheet and my mind swirled with ideas about what could be under it. With the flourish of a magician, Scott pulled the sheet off the cart and tossed it behind him. My heart dropped when I saw the top of the table covered with tools. Knives, saws, blades . . . and other things I couldn't identify that looked horrifying. There was even a small blowtorch.

Clearly, he was going to torture me. With escape being pretty much out of the question, my only hope was to goad him into killing me quickly so I didn't have to endure the torment and pain.

“Here's how it's going to go,” he said, gesturing to a knife with a long, curved blade. “I'm going to use—”

“You know the worst part of being with you?” I interrupted him. “Pretending to enjoy fucking you. Truth of the matter is, your dick is so small—”

He gave me another hard slap to the face, and the coppery taste of blood began filling my mouth.

“Don’t interrupt,” he said, his voice steady.

“Or what? You're going to hit me again?” I sneered. “Does beating up on me—somebody half your size—make you feel like a real man? Because let me tell you, Scotty, you're about as far from being a real man as a person can get.”

He raised his hand again and then stopped before delivering the blow, and a smile spread across his face as he lowered his hand.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You're hoping that if you piss me off enough, I'll just kill you and be done with it.”

I raised my chin, looking at him defiantly. “You always were more about style than substance,” I said. “Especially in the bedroom.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, babe,” he said. “This isn't going to go that easy for you. I'm on to your little games.”

We stared at one another in silence for a long few moments. Fear and adrenaline tore through my body, and I was doing everything I could to keep from breaking down then and there. I couldn’t believe I’d been in love with this monster. The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor above us. He looked up and then back at me, smiling that toothy, creepy smile.

“Looks like someone has had a change of heart,” he said. “Looks like it's gonna be a threesome of pain here, babe. Hope you're ready for it.”