He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away but his touch grounds me, like a tether to a reality I am no longer a part of. “Schmidt is the master of mind fuckery. He managed to create- what did Casey call it? His fucked-up slave palace where there was no chance of survival. But you made it. Youbeathim. He’s going to be cut up into a million pieces and you are going to spit on every one of them. You will outlive that piece of shit and live a long, happy life.”
I look down at his hand, large, tanned with long, capable-looking fingers. There are scars, and his skin is rough. My fingers look pale and weak in his grip but his warm hold keeps me from flying away.
“What’s your name?” Dario asks again.
“Cora,” I finally whisper. “It’s Cora.”
Chapter Three
In which there is dinner and lots of evasion.
Dario…
I sit with Cora as she cries, holding her chilly hand. I get it. How she tried to keep time, counting the days in hell. It must have felt like the only thing she could control. Even that was taken away from her. I’m sure that piece of shit Schmidt would have been gleeful as fuck to show her the outside world at some point to show her how much time had passed.
She wasn’t ready to hear it, but surviving ten weeks in that motherfucker’s dungeon with her sanity intact took balls of steel. Schmidt obviously had some seriously twisted attachment to her; she wasn’t force-fed like the other captives, in fact, it’s obvious he’d been starving her. And parading his victims in front of her, and forcing her to watch? It was a seriously fucked-up kind of intimacy.
Cora is weeping silently, but her cheeks are dry. “Look, I get it. You want to have a say over your own body,” I said, “But you’re so dehydrated that you can’t even produce tears. It’s okay if you don’t want an IV, but can you eat?” She brushed her fingers across her skin, apparently surprised to find no moisture.
“I…” she floundered for a minute, “Okay. That would be nice.”
“Great!” Edoardo said eagerly, “We can get you pretty much anything you’d like. It should be simple to start with, though. What sounds good?”
Watching her anxiety over making a choice, I suggest, “Edo, why don’t you just bring three or four items?”
“Thank you,” she whispers gratefully.
She’s beautiful, even half-starved, and heartbroken. Her long, thick chestnut hair tumbles over her elegant shoulders. She’s delicate, with long, graceful fingers, high cheekbones, and a full luscious mouth. Now that I’m looking at it, I can only think about kissing her, thrusting my tongue between those sweet lips…
Down boy, I lecture my cock,not for you, asshole.
“I don’t want to push you,” I said gently, “but is there anyone we can call for you? Someone who’s worried about you?”
Shaking her head, she gives me a humorless smile. “Friends from college, a great aunt who may not even remember who I am. It’s okay. Where are we?”
“Heidelberg,” I said, “this is a safe house. There are a couple of others like Schmidt in law enforcement around here. We’re laying low for now.”
“When can I leave?” She’s pushing back the covers, ready to get out of bed.
“Hey, hey,” I caution, “give yourself a minute. Eat some food. Take a shower. I put some clothes in the bathroom for you. They’re not the height of fashion, but you’ll be comfortable.”
Cora’s eyes narrow. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Her question makes me pause. I’m not the good guy. I’ve never been the good guy. I kill people. We mounted this attack because Schmidt was a complete piece of shit who needed to die.
“My sister-in-law was kidnapped and sold at a slave auction,” I said, wondering if Giovanni will cut my heart out for spilling family secrets. “Fortunately, my brother outbid everyone, but Schmidt was up to seventy million before he had to drop out. Everyone in… our world knew he was a psycho piece of shit, but no one did anything about it.”
“Until you,” she supplies, pleating the blanket between her fingers. “So this was revenge for nearly buying your sister-in-law?”
“No…” I said slowly. “It’s because he should be dead. He should be cut up into fish chum. He should be burned alive. Believe it or not, there are worse men than Schmidt. But when he’s right there, buying women…”
“Thank you for saving me,” she said hoarsely. “Am I the only one who…?”
“Made it?” I finished the question. “Yes. I’m sorry.” Cora’s face crumples, though she doesn’t cry this time.
To my relief, the door opens and Edoardo sails through with a big tray of food. “Let’s give this a try,” he says encouragingly as he places it on her lap. “Just whatever you think would taste good.”
It looks like even four choices are too many for this half-starved girl. Her eyes dart between the ham sandwich, the eggs, the sliced chicken breast, and a big pink smoothie. The silence is awkward, so Edoardo clears his throat, heading for the door. “I’ll come back later to check on you, okay?”
