“Same place as you,” he replies. “What do you say, old friend? Why don’t we bury the hatchet once and for all?”
“I’ll bury the hatchet,” I growl. “I’ll bury it in your fucking skull for laying your hands on her.”
Damien laughs.
“Rather attached, aren’t you?” he asks. “What did I always tell you, Vince? Never get attached. People like us aren’t allowed to have girlfriends or wives or children. People like us go through life alone. Love is a liability and you, my friend, are in love.”
Anger roars in my chest.
“You’re not denying it,” Damien says. “You tried to conceal her from me. And acted as though she meant nothing to you after the breakup. Tell me, what kind of man has a full security detail on a woman who means nothing to him? You don’t fool me. Your attachment, your love, is in proportion to the amount of energy you spent protecting her in the last year.”
“Protecting her from a pile of shit like you,” I say. “Where the fuck are you?”
“So impatient! You know what, I’ll just text you the details, it’s easier that way,” Damien replies breezily. “Hell, I’ll even send you a photo so you know what to look for.”
He hangs up the phone and moments later I receive a photo. Hazel, bound and gagged, sitting on a dull concrete floor with her back against a metal pillar. Behind her, a long row of industrial sized washers and dryers.
Then a text message.
Basement laundry room. Come alone and unarmed.
All this searching and Damien was right beneath my feet the whole time.
8
Hazel
Damien crossesthe room and crouches in front of me, removing the gag from my mouth.
“Good news. Your boyfriend should be here soon.”
I glare at him.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Not anymore,” Damien replies with a shrug.
“Not ever,” I reply. “So if you’re trying to use me as bait, good luck. We were never an item. I’m nothing to him and he’s nothing to me.”
Damien tilts his head.
“Nothing is a strong word,” he says. “So extreme. He really meansnothingto you? Nothing at all?”
“Nothing,” I repeat.
The lie tastes metallic on my tongue.
Or maybe that’s just the blood in my mouth from hitting my lip on the side rail of the elevator while I was thrashing around, fighting for my life, even when it seemed pointless. Damien had my hands fastened behind my back in the blink of an eye. Kristen gave a good fight, her best moves learned in the self-defense course she made us take together, but was ultimately subdued as well.
When we got to the hotel’s laundry room, his men separated us. Me, bound to a pillar, right here out in the open.
They dragged Kristen away, out of sight behind a door across from me where Damien joined her, slamming the door behind him, his eyes murderous as the blood continued to flow from his nose where Kristen had struck him in the elevator.
I don’t know what happened while he was behind that door with her. All I know is that when Damien exited, the violent malice had temporarily left his eyes. Instead of being angry, he seemed…amused.
“Really?” Damien asks. “Wow. I must have read the situation all wrong. But that’s fortunate. If he really means nothing to you, you won’t mind watching him die.”
My eyes widen and Damien laughs, a warm sound from deep in his throat that’s much too pleasant for the dark situation.
