CHAPTER 33
Kate woke up in a bedroom. She assumed she was inside the large stone house she’d glimpsed when she and Dom had pulled up. Her head hurt and her chest ached where she’d been shot during the ambush. She took a deep breath and tested her limbs. Nothing seemed to be broken.
“At last, mia cara, you are awake.” The voice was cool, dry, the accent a blend of British and Italian. And it made her skin crawl.
She rose up on her elbows. Carlo was standing at the other end of the room, next to the fireplace. The room had a rustic feel, all stone and exposed beams, as if it were part of a hunting lodge. Perhaps it was. And she was the prey.
Carlo started toward her. Her belly filled with writhing eels, the adrenaline that had fueled her earlier attempts at escape surging through her again. She trembled with it, unsure what to do. Her eyes flitted around the room, seeking the exits. There was a window to her right, a door to her left, another door to her far left, closest to Carlo.
Which one led out of the room? Would it be safe to jump out the window? How high up was she? She could see the tops of tree branches, which led her to believe she was at least on the second floor. Did the house have a third floor?
Scrambling up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but the room spun around her before she could get to her feet. She groaned and swallowed hard, trying not to vomit. Carlo stopped at the foot of the bed and rested a hand on the iron bed frame. He puffed on a cigar, the heavy aromatic smoke rising in wisps around his head. “I would not move too quickly if I were you. Massimo was perhaps too enthusiastic when he subdued you.”
Kate touched her temple, probing a large bump under the skin, making herself wince.
He motioned to a pitcher of water and a glass on the bedside table. “Are you thirsty?”
“Yes.” She wondered at the rawness of her voice. It must be from the screaming. She poured herself a glass, taking a few sips, her eyes on him the whole time.
“Better? Perhaps you should have some more.” Her stomach dropped. How could she have been so stupid? “You see I am not such a bad man, yes?” He advanced toward her, and she shrank away from him, setting down the glass. What was in the water? He frowned. “I see Lucchesi has filled your head with filthy stories about me.”
“I’m sure they’re true.”
He waved the hand holding the cigar in the air, the smoke making half circles as he spoke. “Think, mia cara. How many times has he lied to you?” He watched her face. “More than he has told the truth, I suspect.”
“He had to lie. At least some of the time.”
“To protect you, yes? That is how he would like you to think. But he lies to protect himself.” He took a long draw on the cigar, then let the smoke out through his nose and mouth. “Did you actually believe he would allow you to go, once you knew who he was? He will kill you to protect himself. That is the kind of man he is.”
Kate avoided his eyes. She’d thought the same thing. Except that even Dom didn’t believe Enrico would harm her. Dom believed Enrico was a fool, not a killer. “He would never hurt me.”
“Perhaps not while you carry his child. But if you were to persist in this notion of leaving him….”
Kate shivered, then her face flushed and her skin burned with heat. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. She looked up at Carlo, going cold again when the head movement almost made her swoon. “Something’s wrong.” She couldn’t keep her voice steady.
“Relax. I have given you something to make you more… cooperative.”
Kate looked at the pitcher, then clutched her hands over her belly. “What?”
He smiled. “Remember when I said I did not care for my nephew’s methods? I was not lying. I want you to be willing.”
Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would I ever be willing for you?”
He pointed to her abdomen. “To save the child.”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“Perhaps all I want is to humiliate you. And to use you to get what I really want.”
“Which is?”
“The death of Enrico Lucchesi.”
She studied him. “Why wouldn’t you kill me?”
He frowned. “Killing women and children is… distasteful. Weak.”
“You killed Enrico’s mother and her two sons.”
Carlo’s face stiffened. “Roaches have to be eradicated.”
Keep him talking. “You married your daughter to a roach?”
He flicked the ash of his cigar on the stone floor. “Rinaldo was holding my son captive. He sent me his finger as proof. What else was I supposed to do? Wait for his head to arrive?”
Was that how Enrico would get her back? As a head in a box? She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. “You swear you won’t kill me?”
Carlo smiled. “I am a man of my word.”
“Then swear it.”
“I will not kill you.”
“Or my baby.”
He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “I cannot swear the drug is safe for the child.”
“What did you give me?” Her head felt strange, and a completely unwarranted sense of calm came over her. Warmth spread through her limbs.
He smiled. “It is called Rohypnol.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “No more questions. Just do what I say, and you and the baby will be safe.”
He’d given her the date-rape drug. She tried to focus on him, to focus on why she should get up, run away. Her limbs felt like lead. She fell back on the bed. No! Get up!
“Yes,” he murmured. “Just lie back and be quiet.”
Yes, that’s what she should do. Enrico might never find her. It was best to earn Carlo’s trust, to cooperate. She wouldn’t be able to escape with this drug in her system anyway.
He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “First, we must call Lucchesi. To assure him you are still alive.” He pressed a few buttons, then held the phone close to her mouth.
“Rico! It’s a trap! I’m in the woods—”
Carlo cut her off by pressing a button. “That’s enough.”
She frowned. “You’re not going to speak to him?”
He smiled. “I recorded you. For later. You might not be in a condition to talk then.” She shuddered, her stomach clenching. He paused. “I mean from the drug, mia cara. I promised not to kill you.”
Cold blasted through her body. He was going to kill her. And Enrico would be too late to save her. Somehow she had to stay awake, she had to fight the drug. And she had to fool Carlo into thinking she’d cooperate. How long before she was unconscious? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?
He set his cigar in the cut crystal ashtray next to the pitcher, then leaned over her. She smelled the smoke on his breath and hoped the drug would block her memory of what was coming. She didn’t want to recall this. If she lived through it.
He kissed her cheek, then tried to kiss her lips. When she turned her head away, he grabbed her jaw, forcing her back. She ignored the kiss, just focused on breathing, staying still. Not fighting. The drug urged her to let go, to lie back and sleep. Stay awake. Keep thinking. There had to be a way. There had to be.
“Mia cara,” he whispered. “I want this to be nice.” She closed her eyes. That was what Rico called her. Tears hovered beneath her eyelids.
Carlo’s hands slipped down to cup her breasts, and she stiffened in revulsion. “When I first saw you, you stole my breath. You were so bellissima, so exquisite.” He kissed her lips again. “I dreamed of the day I could have you.”
She kept her eyes shut. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
He slid a hand underneath her blouse, his fingers playing across the lace of her bra. “So bellissima.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, seeing the glaze of lust on his face, in his eyes. He was not paying as close attention to her now. That could be useful. “Remove your clothes,” he said. He stood up to allow her to undress, and she scooted herself up to the pillows at the top of the bed. Now she was closer to the pitcher and the ashtray, both potential weapons.
Kate pulled off her top, revealing a black lacy bra. His eyes latched on to her breasts. “More,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
She lay back down. “You do it. I’m too tired.”
He stripped off his suit jacket and leaned over her. She moved her right arm up to the head of the bed, seemingly out of his way. But closer to the ashtray, closer to the burning cigar.
As he kissed the swells of her breasts, her fingers inched nearer to the ashtray. It was difficult to concentrate. She just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep.
Her fingers touched the ashtray, the crystal cool and hard beneath her fingers. She looked down at Carlo. He was too absorbed in kissing her, touching her, to notice. She risked a glance at her target. Carefully, she closed her fingers around the cigar. Got it. With a triumphant surge, she shoved the cigar’s burning coal into the side of Carlo’s neck.
He roared in pain and jumped off her. She threw the lit cigar at his face. Clumsily, she dashed toward the far door, hoping it led out of the room. Almost there. The door slammed open and two men poured in, guns drawn. One of them was Dario, Carlo’s son. The other was the man who’d hit her in the forest. Massimo, that’s what Carlo had called the mountain of a man who stood before her. Both men stared at her chest, and she tried to dodge around them, but Dario caught her by the arm and yanked her close.
“Father, what are you doing?” he asked.
Carlo pressed a hand to the burn on his neck. “Get out and leave us alone.”
Dario put himself between Kate and Carlo. “We did not come here so you could force yourself on Vincenzo’s wife.”
“She’s not his wife any longer. She made sure of that.”
“No doubt he deserved it.” He stared at Carlo for a moment. “I know you were thinking of replacing me with him.”
Carlo shook his head. “You are my son.”
Dario laughed. “As if that counts. You have never respected me.”
“That does not mean I do not want you to be capo.”
“You do not trust me with it. Admit it. Vincenzo was much more like you. Much more… vicious. Like one of your precious dogs.”
Carlo opened his mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by the sweetest sound Kate had ever heard—a burst of automatic machine gun fire.