Jack remained, glaring at me like he was disappointed in me. “I told you not to get involved!”
I furrowed my brow, breathing hard with the gag in my mouth as I stared him down. That was twice that he’d emphasized how he’d warned me. Two times, he wanted credit for telling me to not meddle in Mafia business. I struggled to understand why, of all things, he wanted to stress that fact.
Was this a form of his telling meI told you so?
Did he want a pat on the back and get my recognition of his looking out for me?
With him so familiar with the Giovannis, I doubted he had ever been looking out for me. Just like when he coldly glared at Mikhail that night I cared for him in the ER, Jack’s true colors showed clearly. He hadn’t been looking out for me when he told me to avoid getting involved with the Mafia. Fatima had meantit when she suggested I do my job and mind my own business. But Jack? I wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t convinced he gave a damn about what happened to me.
Unless he’s here to try to save me yet?
What if he can be my hero? What if he’s playing along to stick with me and save me in the end?
That didn’t seem likely, and I soon had my answer anyway.
The doors were yanked open from the rear. Loud, grinding creaks of the ungreased hinges whined, but no light shone inward.
They’d parked inside a long, dark garage of some sort. Narrow walls threatened claustrophobia. The lack of lights made every shadow more sinister. But it was the approach of the beefy Giovanni men that scared me the most.
Two men grabbed me out of the van and dropped me to the rough floor. Cracked pavement didn’t give me any cushioning to rely on. I was further wincing and hissing through pain when they grabbed my ankles and dragged me. Like I was an animal, a sack of inanimate junk, they dragged me over the floor through this tunnel-like space.
Once they reached a big room with only one light in it, they released my ankles. Unprepared for the abrupt stop, I couldn’t brace for the impact. My legs dropped down, and I tensed at the hit of my heels on the concrete floor.
They spoke behind me, resorting to Italian and only a few words of English. All I could understand was the profanity when they slowed down in their conversations at all.
Lying here and breathing hard through the terror, I waited for what would come next.
I suffered through a similar horror when I was in that cell at the police station, worried what would happen to me if I didn’t treat those Popov men and stitch them up from their injuries.
Now, this time, I shook with the looming unknowns ahead of me.
Were they going to beat me and demand I tell them about the Orlovs?
I didn’t know anything. I had been careful not to snoop at Mikhail’s building, and no one had shared anything incriminating with me, anyway.
Were they going to take turns and violate me, raping me one by one?
I didn’t want to go there and even let that idea into my mind. It was too terrible to imagine, and I wished I could close my eyes and wake up from this nightmare altogether.
How can this be happening to me? Tome?
I never sought trouble. I walked on the right side of the law. I always had. But now, I was subjected to captivity and this dreadful anxiety of the unknown.
What will they do to me?
Is this it?
Is this the end?
I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t let them see me break down.
But when Jack strolled into view, a Giovanni next to him, I was chilled by the lack of compassion. All that I could see in their eyes and on their mocking faces was malice.
“I think the doctor won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Jack guessed.
The other man nodded, smiling wickedly as he slapped a whip in his hands. “No, she sure ain’t.”
Trembling and praying the pain would be over as quickly as possible, I blinked away the grime in my eyes.
