CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Grace
The seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes turned to hours. I eventually lost track of how long I’d been in that room. The man who took me from Cristiano didn’t remove my hood or my bindings. He carried me from the car like a bride. His voice sounded different from my memory of The Reaper, and I wondered if there was a third player who was after me. There was something eerily familiar about him, but I was too scared to find out. Because if he was indeed The Reaper, life as I had known it was finished. El Segador had an extremely high success rate with his kills. Only two percent had gotten away, and they’d been horribly maimed.
As if my thoughts conjured the horror in my mind, a man’s scream broke the silence. It made my skin crawl like a thousand tiny ants had sprouted from the mattress I’d been laying on. The scratchy hood was suffocating, and my unseeing eyes were driving me crazy. That was my new abductor’s goal—sensory torture. There was another howl of pain and then I heard another man speak. His voice was low and muffled.
As the minutes passed, cold sweat trickled down my brow and I wanted to sob, but I was afraid to make a sound. I also needed to pee so bad. I thought I may be able to give the man who was being tortured some respite and stop the chilling screams.
“Some help here!” I shouted. I should’ve been shot for my stupid martyr behavior. “I need to use the bathroom!”
Silence.
Then a door opened and closed somewhere down a hallway and I heard footsteps as they approached. The door to my room opened, creaking creepily just like in the horror movies. I turned to the direction of the sound and felt eyes staring at me.
“I need to pee,” I whispered.
A low chuckle echoed in the room as the foot falls moved closer. I felt a dip in the mattress, warmth touched the side of my thighs and it took all of my willpower not to flinch. It took a bigger effort not to tremble when a hand landed on my hip to caress it like it had the right to do so. “My poor angel, I’ve been neglecting you.”
Please neglect me all you want, I really just need to pee, I thought.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I requested in a meek voice. “Can you remove the hood? I want to see you.”
His hesitation was palpable. He had lifted the hood from me in the car to flash a light on me, probably to make sure it was me, but he had hooded me again, and I was left in darkness after that.
He left the bed and some light passed through the spaces of the weave of my head cover. I held my breath as fingers slowly lifted my hood away. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the flood of light, and then focused on the face before me.
A man with dark hair and eyes I would never forget stood before me. If he was indeed obsessed with me, I hoped I could use it to my advantage.
“It’s you,” I said softly.
I was surprised to see an extremely attractive man with strong angular features, a patrician nose, and firm lips. He was lean and didn’t appear very tall. He smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming against his tanned skin.
“Of course, it’s me, Grace. I said I was coming back for you.”
“You sound different.”
“They always assume a Mexican cartel’s assassin is Mexican.”
“Misdirection.”
“Exactly.”
“So, you are—”
“Not Mexican,” he evaded with another smile.
I pursed my lips. “Can I use the bathroom now?”
“Certainly,” he pulled me up. “I’ll even do you one better. You can shower and change. I have clothes laid out for you.”
He must have felt my body stiffen as he frowned at me when I got up to my feet.
“You do not want to clean up?” He asked as he cut the flex-ties with a switchblade and pocketed it behind his jeans.
“I don’t want to wear clothes that don’t belong to me,” I tried to find an excuse.
“Are you worried they belonged to Kyra?”
Fresh terror rattled through me. “You … you’re the one who … but why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice turned harsh as he shoved me toward the adjoining bathroom. “To get Foster out of my way.”
Fury blinded me and I attacked him. “You killed an innocent woman.” I punched his jaw.
“Ow!” I shouted as my knuckles hit hard bone. He cursed and grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind me.
“Your meek and cooperative behavior only lasted so long, didn’t it?” he sneered. “You may be my obsession, cara, but do not mistake me as what do you call it? Pussy-whipped?”
When we got to the bathroom, he laughed cruelly as he began to pull my pajama bottoms down along with my panties. I struck uselessly against his shoulder, and he gripped my wrists and pushed me to sit down on the toilet.
“You’ve lost your right to privacy,” he told me.
“You expect me to pee in front of you?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes. And if you don’t do so immediately, I’m going to assume you don’t need to go really badly, and you’ll just have to wet the bed.”
My cheeks burned knowing he’d do it too.
“I … can you maybe wait outside the door?”
“No.”
“Please?”
He glared at me. There was a cut on his lip, and I was surprised he didn’t hurt me back given the blood-curdling screams I heard earlier.
“Make it quick,” he bit out tersely.
As I relaxed into unloading my bladder, I decided to push the thought of poor Kyra aside, and concentrate on surviving. “What’s your name?”
There was a bark of sarcastic laughter. “You’re too cute, my love. You’re still trying to win me over.”
“I’m not being cute. I’ll need to call you a name eventually.” Despite my fear, I was partly annoyed that he wasn’t some psychopath I could manipulate.
“Why … when I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep you?”
“You don’t want me anymore?” I asked, trying to sound hurt.
“Are you finished yet?” he asked in irritation.
I finished up and pulled my panties and pajamas back on and walked out the bathroom. He caught my arm and hauled me back into the bathroom.
“You can call me Ric.”
“As in Ricardo? I’m thinking you look Italian and you called me cara.”
His smile was wolfish. “You’re fishing for information.”
Ric started unbuttoning my pajama top. My hands shot up and gripped his wrists. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I was right.” His eyes grew cold, as a muscle in his jaw ticked. “You’re playing me.”
“Ric, I … you’re going too fast.” I licked my lips and stared at his mouth. He inhaled sharply.
I needed to try a different tack. “I’m in love with my husband,” I said and cried out as his fingers gripped my hair and yanked it back. The anger in his eyes almost made me swallow my tongue, but I had to remain steady. “But I’m pragmatic.” I ended in a pained gasp when his other hand circled my neck and squeezed. “I’ll do what you ask, but this is not the way to make me love you,” I added desperately.
He lowered his furious face to mine. “I don’t need your love.”
“What do you want from me then?” I whispered.
The anger in his face lessened as his eyes seared into mine. “I want to drown in those beautiful green eyes, cara. I want to hear you scream my name as I make you feel pain and pleasure. I want this.”
He captured my lips, shoving his tongue inside my mouth in a brutal kiss. Bending me backwards over the sink. He kept his hands where they were and his grip tightened around my neck, his fingers yanking my head back further by the hair. Tears prickled my eyes with the pain in my scalp; my breathing fractured as my airway constricted. But he didn’t seem to care, seemingly taking pleasure in my continued asphyxiation.
I struggled, clawing at his back as he pushed me almost horizontal on the sink. My hand found the switchblade in his pocket. The edges of my vision started to dim. My throat and hair were released and his hand went to my wrist, but he was too late. I’d managed to plunge the blade into his side.
I gulped in oxygen.
He cursed and intensified his grip on my wrist until I had to let go and leave the weapon embedded in his side. I pulled back my legs and shoved my feet against his chest, sending him flying through the bathroom door and into the bedroom.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I shouted as I jumped off the sink and ran into the room. I glanced around wildly, spotting a lamp. I yanked its cord from the socket, plunging the room into the dim light of dawn. Picking up my improvised weapon, I smashed it on Ric’s head.
He fell back groaning, and I thought about grabbing the knife from his side. However, he swept his arm out as if to grab my foot, so I leapt out of his way and sprinted out of the room. I closed the door and realized it was bolted from the outside. I slid it closed and locked the motherfucker inside. That should buy me a little time at least. His roar of fury raised the little hairs on my nape as I tried to shake off the murder burning in his eyes when I escaped him.
I looked both ways down the hallway and saw two doors on each side.
“Is anyone here?” I yelled. I had no time to search room to room.
“Who’s there?” An answering voice yelled.
Damn it. It looked like it came from the end of the hallway away from the open room which was likely a kitchen. I ran to that room and unlocked the bolt. I switched on the light and was jarred by the sight of the man, bloody, blindfolded and tied to a chair.
I knew that man.
“Elliot?”
“Grace, is that you?”
“Oh my God, he got you too?” I yanked the blindfold from his face.
“Where is he?” he asked urgently.
“I knocked him down and locked him in a room, but I don’t know if he’s going to be down for long,” I said, desperately looking around the room for something to cut the flex ties. “Can you break out of them?”
Elliot looked defeated. “He beat me bad, Grace. I don’t have any energy left.”
“Okay, hold on.” I resisted the urge to shake him and tell him to snap out of it. I dashed out of the room, hesitating briefly past where I’d locked Ric and made it to the kitchen. I searched all the drawers, finding a paring knife and a set of car keys, but no other weapons.
When I passed my former bedroom again, I heard something ram against its door. I nearly thought of abandoning Elliot and just make a run for it, but I’d probably pissed Ric off so much he’d probably take it out on my boss. Pushing all other thoughts aside, I ran back to where Elliot was and closed the door and looked at other escape routes. There were boarded up windows. It appeared we’d been held in an old ranch house so we didn’t have to leap through any second story windows.
“We’ll have to take him on together,” I told Elliot urgently as I cut through his bindings. “You have to suck it up, boss, I’m going to need your help.”
The words barely left my mouth when I heard a crash of the door.
I got Elliot free. “Use the chair!”
But it was too late, The Reaper kicked the door open before we could have jammed it with the chair.
I held the paring knife out.
Ric stood there, fists clenched, glowering at us.
“This is tragic,” The Reaper said. “You could have gotten away, Grace, and I would have enjoyed the chase. Yet, I’m furious that you’d waste your life saving this low-life scum.”
Dammit, I didn’t want Elliot to know yet that I knew his dirty games. But that was exactly what Ric was doing here. He was dividing us.
Before I could move to the side to keep Elliot within my sight, a chair was thrown at The Reaper and my hand holding the knife was twisted up under my chin. I was dragged against Elliot. He was not beaten enough apparently, because he was strong enough to subdue me.
Ric managed to duck the chair, but when he straightened, his face became doubly alert, his eyes contemplating our every move.
“You already knew something, didn’t you?” My boss hissed into my ear.
“You idiot! Don’t you see he’s playing us?” I growled, hoping to salvage this. “We can get out of this.”
Elliot laughed. “Oh, you’ll get me out of this alright.” He tightened his hold around me and addressed Ric. “I’ll slit her throat if you don’t let me go.”
I couldn’t believe this. “You jerk! I was getting you out!”
“What? So you can see me prosecuted along with Hector Vargas?” I could hear the contempt in Elliot’s voice. It was like seeing a mask peel off
“He made a deal with Esteban Moreno,” Ric told me. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” The Reaper held up the flash drive. Oh shit, I had forgotten that I had it in my pajama pocket and it must have fallen out when he carried me. “He also agreed to turn a blind eye about us bringing the heroin in.”
“She didn’t know that, damn you! That was between us!” Elliot shouted at Ric, backing away with me and letting the knife nick me.
I saw Ric stiffen. Why did he care? He almost strangled me to death, unless he wanted to kill me himself.
“Did you know about the bombing, Elliot?” I whispered. Somehow, I needed to know that my boss wasn’t complicit in the death of more than forty people.
“No,” Elliot said.
“He’s lying,” Ric growled.
“I knew about the heroin and that they were going to get rid of Vargas’s old cronies, but I didn’t know they going to blow up the Atlanta airport.”
“Deal with the devil, Elliot?” I said bitterly. “I hope your conscience burns you for an eternity.”
“So dramatic,” Elliot drawled not sounding remorseful at all. “How does it feel now, Ric? If I’d known how obsessed you were with Grace, I would have offered her to you sooner.”
“He’s obsessed with killing me,” I retorted. “In fact, he tried to strangle me.”
Ric’s eyes flashed at my statement, but he didn’t say anything.
“Shall we try out your theory?” Elliot goaded, enjoying the sudden shift of power. “Ric, should I slit her throat or would you kick those car keys over?” The Reaper didn’t hesitate and punted the set of keys a foot from where Elliot and I were standing.
“Don’t put another mark on her or I swear I’ll tear you apart, limb from fucking limb,” he growled.
“I guess you’re wrong, Gracie, the man is obsessed with you,” Elliot said. “Now, be a good girl and pick up the keys and put them in my pocket. Don’t try anything stupid or I might just stab your kidney this time.”
What an asshole! I couldn’t believe I had contemplated saving his life.
I bent down to retrieve said car keys when I heard a whistling whoosh above my head. That was followed by an awful gurgling sound, then blood sprayed all over me.
Ric lunged at me, snatching me up, and spinning me around so my wrists were crossed in front of me. In this position, I was forced to face the grisly scene unfolding before me.
“Ah, cara mia, look what you made me do,” Ric said silkily with a hint of euphoria.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” I stared at Elliot in horror.
My boss had fallen to his knees, his eyes registering shock. Ric’s switchblade was impaled in his throat and blood gushed down in an endless stream, pooling around him.
I felt lightheaded and, if it hadn’t been for Ric holding me up, I might have fallen.
“You’re a monster.” I squeezed my eyes shut. A multitude of emotions ripped through me—anger, sorrow, desolation, terror, and more anger.
So much death. How many more people have to die because of him?
“Ah, Grace, but I’m your monster.”