“Who’ve you told?”
“Nobody. I-I didn’t know… Idon’tknow who you are.”
His hand disappears and I gasp in a breath even though he didn’t hold me tight enough to restrict my airway. A smirk briefly contorts his face, then it falls away. “I told Baxter to bring you along tonight. Did you know that?”
His tongue sneaks out to moisten his lips as his gaze once again rakes over my body. Then his fingers move to his belt, undoing the buckle, and pure panic explodes into my mind.
I charge him. Slam my shoulder into his chest. He doesn’t retreat, doesn’t wince at the collision, just throws me back a step, keeping me cornered. I raise my hands again as a flimsy shield. He’s laughing. I duck to escape around his side, but he easily thrusts me back against the wall.
“The point of you being here, tonight”—he speaks slowly as though I might be confused—“was for you to be seen. To flush the kidnappers out. Not to hide in the bathroom like a frightened little bunny.”
Then the belt is around my neck, pulling tight. Tighter than his hands were. Tighter than anyone’s hands could be.
“I thought if anyone here tonight was involved, they might give themselves away. Seeing you paraded around.” The ice-cold smirk twists his lips again. “But I’ve been watching. Nobody has so much as raised an eyebrow. No one inside the syndicate is involved.”
He puts his mouth so close to my ear I can hear his ragged breathing. “Do you appreciate what a dangerous position that puts me in? Your friend Baxter already suspects I’m the one responsible for abducting his daughter. A little bird told me he’s compiling evidence to show my boss. To get authority to kill me.”
His voice comes in waves. The same beat as my heart. The same pulse as the blood trapped in my face, swelling as he cinches the belt even tighter.
“The last thing I need is you telling him you saw me and spouting wild theories about what happened that night.”
I try to tell him I won’t. I would never.
Never, never, never.
But I can’t speak. My lips feel eight sizes too large. My eyes bug out of my head.
I can’t get purchase on the belt. My fingers scrabble at the edges but they’ve already sunk too deep in my flesh. The pads skate across the slick surface.
Then he spins me. Smashes my cheekbone against the sink. Jerks me back against him. I can feel his hard cock poking into my behind. See the tableau of us in the mirror. A horror image even if it’s so-far free of blood and gore.
His grip on the belt loosens. I drag in a breath. Then it tightens again as he shifts his hold. Twists it instead. The edges now cutting into my skin.
His hand shoves between my legs. Rough fingers forcing themselves into me. Even as a wave of revulsion courses through me, I want to tell him he can if he’ll just let me breathe.
I would tell him to do anything. If I still had a voice. If I still had energy. If he wasn’t halfway through killing me already.
Then he drags me across the room and slams my head onto the counter. The belt mercifully loosens as his lips press against my ear, chuckling with low menace. “This mightn’t be exactly what he had in mind, but the only reason Baxter brought you along tonight is as a sacrifice, little bunny. You’re an offering to find out who hurt his little girl.”
He backs away a step, and I slide bonelessly to the floor. My head hits the tiles with a thump that I hear but can’t feel.
The belt is no longer around my neck, but its imprint still chokes me. As I struggle to breathe, he kicks me in the shoulder. Not hard. To get my attention.
“How close were you and Sergio?”
My mind’s too scrambled to lie. My voice croaks as I say, “He was my boss, that’s all. We socialised maybe three times outside of work.”
“Why’s he living out of your house? Why hasn’t Baxter killed him yet?”
“What?” I try to sit upright, struggling to process what he’s saying. Certain I must have misheard. Why would he be at my house? Why would Baxter let him stay there? “Once Sergio’s given up his contacts, I can…” I lose the thread of my sentence and try again. “T-that’s why…”
Why, what? I can’t remember. Every thought in my head has derailed. I spin around in the swirling maelstrom, trying to grasp hold of something, anything.
“Sergio’s dangerous. That’s why Baxter is keeping me…” Except it’s not. Not anymore. Maybe it never was. “Who found…?”
“I ask the questions.” The man crouches, grabs my face and hauls it nearer to his. “Jesus, you don’t know anything, do you?” His laughter sounds like a dentist drill. “It’s your lucky day, lady. I’m going to let you go but once I do, you need to stay gone. D’you understand me?”
When I don’t answer quickly enough, he crunches my head against the floor. Hard. Stinging. My hands flap, trying to stop him but I’ve lost all sense of where he is in relation to me.
