I run a hand over the back of my neck. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore if she knows; they’ve already found mine and will assume the rest of us—or at least Dutch—will also have one.
“Eric put trackers in all of us. Unfortunately, they seem to have found mine and removed it.”
“Fuck,” she whispers. “That would have been a boon. Now that he’s moved us–”
“What do you mean moved us?” I interrupt.
She chuckles humorlessly and throws an arm out. “Welcome to the compound. We moved here from the city a few days ago. It’s a heavily armed fortress, and we’re currently three stories underground.”
Fuck.“The only way out is up. And I’m guessing he’s got a small army protecting the upper floors?”
Her mouth twists to the side. “That would be correct.”
I lean back against the wall in defeat. How the fuck are we going to get out of this? The Duke grins at me, then reaches into her mouth, pulling out what looks like a metal toothpick and tweezers. “What–” I start, and her grin grows wider.
“Courtesy of Cesare’s Swiss army knife. Uncomfortable as fuck to keep in my mouth, but they’ll work as lock picks.” She pulls herself onto the cot and lies back, hands folded over her chest. “I’m going to work on a plan,” she murmurs, her eyes falling closed.
I lie back as well, folding my arms behind my head. I remember one of my sergeants telling me once, “Sleep when you can, you never know when you’ll need the energy.” He always gave good advice.
Hours later, a strange sound inside the wall wakes me. For the first time, I notice the metal flap along the left-hand side of the cell.
“It’s how the food is delivered,” The Duke informs me, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The dark circles under them hint that she’s been too busy plotting and not getting enough sleep.
Striding over to the flap, I lift it, disappointed to find there’s only enough space for a tray.Of course, it’s not going to be big enough to escape in,I deride myself. I eat everything on it, bland as it is. When The Duke is ready for whatever she’s planning, or if Dutch shows up, I need to be ready.
Casting my gaze around the room, I’m once more disgusted by what I see. The women shiver in the cold, some eating their meal while others just sit, staring into space. One woman, so thin her bones jut from her skin, just rocks back and forth on her cot. Another, sitting on her haunches, mumbles under her breath while she stuffs food in her mouth, splattering crumbs everywhere.
It sickens me how Vincenzo treats them, and I look away. I can’t do anything now, but I’ll help get them out of here when the time comes.
Once everyone is asleep and soft snores are the only thing breaking the silence, The Duke hands me the tweezers. I unlock the chains and manacles, breathing a sigh of relief while rubbing the skin that’s red and sore from wearing them so long.
Quietly opening the doors, we explore the level we’re on. There doesn’t appear to be any guards on this floor, although I’m sure there will be on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs.
There isn’t much to see. This level is split into sections. One houses the cells and women; another contains bathrooms and an open shower block. The rest is dedicated to torture and is divided into two rooms; the actual torture area and what looks like a clean-up room.
We leave nothing unexplored. The Duke instructs me to go over everything I told her earlier, encouraging me to leave nothing unsaid. She wants to know everything, down to the last bullet shot, and everything in between. She listens intently as she opens cupboards in the clean-up room, and we grin widely at each other when we find lye and other chemicals.
In the torture room, every kind of weapon imaginable can be found pinned to the walls. Vincenzo is supposed to be intelligent, but I call that into question. Why would you leave all this in the same room as your prisoners?
They say pride comes before a fall. Vincenzo doesn’t worry about leaving these weapons, because in his mind, his prisoners are weak and helpless and couldn't possibly escape from their cells.
His hubris will be the end of him.
Chapter 57
Dutch
“No,wecan’tdothat!” I shout, laughter spilling from me. Tessa, Rebecca, and Susannah join me, as we toss another torture scenario out the window.
Letting out a sigh, I look around at my girls. We’ve spent days getting together while our men workout or do whatever manly things they get up to. Most nights we end up in Ryan’s well-stocked liquor cabinet, helping ourselves to whatever tickles our fancy.
Tonight, it’s margaritas, and the kitchen in Tessa’s apartment is a disaster. Three different blenders are strewn across the counter since we wanted to try different flavors. We’re all a little unsteady on our feet, and after I let out a very unladylike belch, I give them each a hug and head back to my apartment.
It takes a few minutes longer than usual, as I’m drunker than I realized. Giggling, I hug the wall, leaning on it for support as I follow it around to my door. Dropping the keys three times, I finally manage to get the door open, banging it against the wall as I stumble into the foyer.
“Shhh!” I yell at it, kicking it closed. Holding on to the wall, I kick off my boots, then stagger into the kitchen. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I down it, then toss the empty bottle on the counter. “I’ll clean it in the morning,” I mutter, lurching down the hallway to my room.
Pushing open the door, my eyes narrow as I’m met with nothing but an eerie silence. Huh. Cruz must be with the guys. Shrugging, I fall onto the bed and am out faster than a horse at the starting gates.
