49. What EGOT stands for

FORTY-NINE

#3 Oscar

Iwasn't sure exactly what time it was when the engines of the yacht stopped, but at some point, the yawning of the vessel was even more pronounced. I was already showered, my hair dried and teased into a showgirl-style ponytail, a solid mask of makeup layered on my face, when I put on the bright red teddy that wrapped around my body like it was completely made of ribbons.

Well, I didn't choose it for the aesthetics. It was the potential for camouflage I liked.

"I need to get out of here," I told Femi.

She looked up from the table where she was putting the finishing touches on her own makeup. "It's locked. No way out."

"What if there's an emergency?" I asked. "We're good cargo. They won't want something to happen to us, right?"

Femi just shrugged. "You can knock and bang. But I don't think no one will come, and even if they do, what will you do then?"

I strode up to the door. I could do this. Improv was just a different kind of performance, right? Even if I was scared out of my mind.

I had to knock five times before the door opened.

Not bad.

Even better was the face of the person who opened it.

"There's my sunshine." Shawn's gold tooth made another appearance. "Looking like you should. Turn around, baby. Let me see that ass."

I wanted to resist. I wanted to slap him across the face like he had done to me.

But then I saw that look in his eyes—the familiar gleam that meant he wanted me back.

"Best-looking ass in the tri-state area," Shawn commented as I obediently turned in a slow, seductive circle.

I peeked over my shoulder, the perfect coquette.

He practically drooled.

Gross.

But also, I wondered, how could I have been so stupid? Shawn was never going to let me go because I was dating another man. If anything, that was the most interesting thing about me. He had always wanted me more when others seemed to as well. I'd always thought it was connected to my value as a dancer, but now it was obvious it was really about anyone. If someone else found me valuable, Shawn did too.

Well, if Femi was to be believed, there was a whole party of other men who were going to bid to take me to bed in a few hours. Shawn had to know that, and I was going to use it.

And so the real play began.

As I turned back to him, I batted the fake eyelashes Shawn used to love so much. It never occurred to me back then why he liked to dress me up like a sex toy, but now I was wondering if it was because I'd look like one of these girls. One of the ones he wanted for his own.

But something else was different too. For the first time, I didn't feel that confusing twinge of desire for Shawn that I'd always felt, even in his worst moments. Even in mine. For the last decade, he'd had that strange hold on me, as though he'd shaped me into a person who would, if not love him, at least want him in some way. Even if it was just his approval I wanted. Like his desire for me was somehow the key to my completion.

But no more.

Something in that had broken in the last few months. Maybe it was Nathan. Maybe it was me. But as I looked at Shawn, the only thing I felt was harsh, cold clarity and soul-crushing disgust. He was never my friend. Never my boyfriend. Not even my lover, despite the things we had done. He was only a monster. A captor. A predator in his own right.

And I knew exactly what I had to do.

"Thank God it's you," I whispered, reaching out a coy hand to pet his chest. "I was hoping it would be you."

Shawn looked down at my hand, then back at me. "Don't try that shit with me, Joni. I'm not letting you out."

He didn't, however, move my hand.

"Please, baby," I said as I unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and slipped my hand underneath, rubbing his tattooed skin. "I just needed to see you. You know…to say goodbye."

Shawn frowned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I know what they're doing." I stuck out my lower lip, playing the spoiled baby he always said I was. The one everyone said I was. Except one.

No, I couldn't think about Nathan right now.

"The girls told me all about it," I went on. "And it really made me see the light of what you said."

I undid another button. Then another so I could drag my hand down his torso, lightly scratching over his skin, tracing my nails over his tattoos, just as he liked.

"What's that?" he asked before licking his lip as he watched my hand slip lower and lower.

His body wasn't anywhere close to the trim twenty-two-year-old who had charmed me in the mall. Now he was at least thirty-three, with the face and body of a man who hadn't spent the last decade taking care of himself, but indulging. Softer belly. Graying teeth. Too many wrinkles. Blotchy skin.

How could I have ever found this man remotely attractive?

I deserved an Oscar for this performance.

"That I...belong...to...you." Each word was a purr. "You aren't really gonna let these other men take what's yours, are you?"

Shawn's dark eyes squinted. He was suspicious, but he didn't move away.

"Please, baby?" I whispered into his ear before biting his lobe. "You can get us out. It's like you always said. Just you and me."

His familiar odor of menthol cigarettes and Old Spice curled around me. So different from Nathan's clean, simple scent.

I resisted the urge to choke.

"I know what you're doing. And it's not going to work," he said through his teeth, though it was obvious he was tempted. I could feel it against my leg. He grabbed my hand, jerking me back so I couldn't lick his ear anymore. "There's nowhere to go, and even if I wanted to take you off this boat—which I don't—I can't. They're gonna know. And I don't fuck with these guys, Joni. No one does."

Okay. On to Plan B.

I allowed him to keep my wrist in his grip but leaned in and licked his ear again. Shawn was always a sucker for that. Sometimes when I really was faking it, all I had to do was stick my tongue in there, and he'd come in seconds.

As always, he shuddered, and I resisted the urge to smirk as his other hand slipped around to take hold of my ass.

Bingo.

"Then take me before they do," I begged, a hot whisper only for him. "Please. So I'll know that when I'm ruined—when I'm sold—you were there first. Because you were always there first, weren't you?"

My free hand drifted lower, toying with the waistband of his jeans. Running my nails along his hip bones.

Right on cue, Shawn's entire body shook.

"You nasty little cumslut," he crooned. "Do you want some of this, princess? You want a little bit of what Daddy has to offer?"

What I wanted was the vomit all over him. Then escape with Mike, find Nathan, and shower. Preferably in that order.

"You know I do," I hummed right back.

An Oscar and a Tony. Bookend my EGOT right now.

Shawn glanced over my shoulder, where most of the girls were watching curiously, though plenty of them were too drugged up to care what was happening. Then he took my hand, barked over my shoulder, "Stay the fuck here," and dragged me into the corridor.

Step one, complete.

"This way," Shawn said, already undoing his pants as he dragged me past two open bedrooms before opening a third, much smaller one stacked with several duffels full of cash, drugs, and probably other illegal paraphernalia.

I made a mental note. If I did manage to get out of here alive, the cops would want details. And I'd give them everything.

"Come here," Shawn ordered once the door had shut behind him. Stupid man was too blinded by the possibility of sex to even lock it. "On your knees."

"Kiss me first?" I trilled like a chickadee. "Please, Shawn. One last kiss."

He smirked. "Fine. But then I want you to beg."

I let him put his mouth on mine for the last time. Let his hands rove with the familiarity he'd always had, even though now, I felt like a stranger in his arms. Let him grind against my leg like I knew he would and waited for his breath to grow short and shallow until it matched the rocking of the boat.

Then I reached into the ribboned exterior of my bodysuit for the one potential weapon I'd been able to find.

When I was twelve and my brother came back from Iraq, one of the first things he did was teach my sisters and me how to fight. Specifically against men. I'd never stopped to wonder why—Matthew only said he'd seen too much over there, and he was never going to let his sisters be in the same position.

So, for a year, he'd instructed the four of us still living at home in the fine art of self-defense. We'd learned to grapple and feint. How two fingers to the eyes created more opportunity for escape than a knee to the balls. And the correct way to stab someone for maximum impact—left side, up and under the ribs to reach the stomach so the fucker might just bleed out.

I'd carried a switchblade for years, though never had to use it. That blade, of course, was gone, along with the rest of my things after being abducted. But the nail kit provided to the girls did have a cuticle trimmer, one that was just sharp enough to puncture Shawn's soft belly when I jabbed him as hard as I possibly could.

Shawn squealed like a pig as he jumped off me, the trimmer sticking out of his side like an instant thermometer.

"You bitch!" Shawn screamed as he yanked out the tool, then lunged for me again.

Fuck, he was loud. And covered in blood, which was getting all over the bed and carpet. And scary as fuck.

"Get off!" I shrieked as I tried to jump over the bed toward the door. "You just got stabbed in the gut! You should be bleeding out, not chasing me!"

"I'll chase you forever, you little whore!"

Shawn grabbed my foot, then dragged me back toward him. He collapsed on top of me, obviously struggling despite his efforts. Then his hand closed around my neck, and all my screams were silenced as I choked,unable to gasp for a single breath.

"You thought you could get away with that?" Shawn's voice warbled too, searching for breath even as he shoved me harder against the mattress. "You thought you could stab me and just walk the fuck away? I own you, Joni. I fuckin' own you, and now I'm gonna end you—fuck!"

Suddenly, he was yanked away, and I gasped, sucking in several deep, precious lungfuls before I was able to comprehend what was happening. When I finally managed to sit up, I found Shawn on the other side of the room, lifted onto his toes as a large man with slightly disheveled curls pinned him to the wall with a muscled forearm shoved against his neck.

My heart swelled.

Nathan.

I moved to get up but was held back by another hand on my shoulder.

"I wouldn't interrupt him right now," Carrick said behind me. "He's busy."

I gaped between them. How had they even gotten here? How had they even known to come?

"How does it feel?" Nathan was asking Shawn. "Not breathing? Forced to be helpless under someone you can't possibly fight?"

Shawn could only gurgle, though his black eyes shot murder. At me. At Nathan. At Carrick too.

"What did I tell you?" Nathan went on, as calmly as he had ever been except for the muscle ticking furiously in his jaw and the high color on his cheeks. "What did I say I would do if you ever fucking touched her again?"

Again, there was only a half-whimpered response. But Shawn's horrible gaze again landed on me as he reached toward me, then brought his finger up to his throat and drew a clear line across it.

It was a clear promise.

And apparently, the last straw. Nathan shoved his arm even further into Shawn's throat as he took hold of his head with his other hand and wrenched it to the side with a horrifying snap.

Shawn stopped moving completely. His eyes closed, and his entire body slumped. And when Nathan released his neck, Shawn crumpled to the floor, blood staining his shirt from his side wound, head lolling at an impossible angle.

I pushed off the bed, standing on shaky knees, hands to my mouth as the realization of what had just happened washed over me.

"Oh my God," I whispered. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

"Well, that was one way to end it," Carrick said dryly as he got up and walked to Shawn's lifeless body. "Jesus, Nate. I didn't think you had it in you."

"I told you what needed to be done. He was never going to give her up otherwise," Nathan said, though he was already moving back to me. "Joni." He took my shoulders, shaking lightly. "Joni."

I couldn't stop staring. "I killed him."

"Actually, I think I killed him," Nathan corrected me. "I broke his neck." His tone as dry and unfeeling as I had ever heard it.

I, on the other hand, was a mess. "B-but I stabbed him."

My hands were clammy. My body shaking. I couldn't speak as I took in the scene, the facts of what we had just done coming back to me in shards.

My God. Was he—had he—that snap—it echoed.

Carrick crouched next to Shawn's body, then looked up at Nathan. "Well, doc? You want to call it?"

Nathan sighed, squeezed my hand, and then released me so he could join his brother. I watched as he felt for Shawn's pulse in several places.

"He's dead," he said. "It's done." He stood up. "What's that look?"

I blinked. "What?"

"That look. I haven't seen it before. You're upset, but I'm not sure why."

"Upset. Yeah." I was numb. My lips barely worked as I stared at Shawn's body, lifeless on the floor.

"Why?" Nathan demanded, framing my face with his hands, "Don't feel bad for that piece of shit, Joni. He deserved it. He hurt you and who knows how many other people. So, why are you upset about him?"

"Because we just k-killed a man, and I know he wasn't—but we still—" The words stumbled, like water tripping over rocks. I was shaking now. I couldn't seem to stop.

"She's going into shock," Carrick said behind me. "We need to get her out of here."

Nathan yanked me into his chest, wrapping me with his big arms, cocooning me into his warmth like a baby swaddled tight. "I know," he whispered fiercely as he rocked me back and forth. "I know. But it will be okay. Listen to me."

"No," I blubbered. "No, no, no."

"Yes." Nathan took my face again, forcing me to look at him. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but his eyes were deeper, full of that chocolatey warmth that soothed my soul immediately. "Joni. My Giovanna. You're okay. You're safe now. I love you, and I will keep you safe no matter what."

His big, capable hands stroked my hair, my face, all of me as if to reassure us both that I was whole.

"Are we done with the therapy session?"

Both of us ignored Carrick. I could only see Nathan. And I was pretty sure he could only see me.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I blinked. And blinked again. And slowly came back to myself.

"Oh—okay," I said. "I'm ready."

"Good, because I'm guessing we have about two more minutes before they come down here looking for us," Carrick said. "We found you, now we're leaving. There's a deck off the back that we can jump off if we're quick. And a team of divers below waiting with oxygen."

"H-how did you know where I was?" I asked as we followed Carrick back into the hall.

Nathan kept my hand locked in his. I wasn't going anywhere without him.

"Carrick was invited," he told me. He shot a look over my head that told me exactly what he thought of the fact that his brother was being invited to things like this.

"W-why?" I asked Carrick. "Don't they know who you are?"

"You're not the only one who uses an alias when it fits, Gigi," he replied. "I find that blending into…less than reputable spaces is good for business. Gives me leverage when I need it."

I didn't even want to think about what that meant. Or what he would be using that leverage for.

"This way." Carrick gestured toward a door at the end.

But I stopped near the one right before it. The one to the room where Mike still was.

"Stop," I said.

Both brothers faced me like I was crazy.

"Joni, we have to go now," Nathan said.

"It's Mike. He's in there. I can't leave him. We have to bring him with us."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Carrick mumbled. "Should we rescue every fuckin' person on the boat? The feds are going to take them in about fifteen minutes anyway if they stay within U.S. waters"

"Well, there are six other girls about to be sold like cattle, so maybe them too," I snapped. "But we could start with my brother, who is probably going to die if we don't save him." I folded my arms.

Nathan just threw Carrick a look like he should know better, then looked at the door.

Carrick sighed. "On three."

Nathan nodded. "One. Two?—"

The flimsy door was no match for the two linebacker-sized bodies hurled at it. The lock gave almost immediately, and we all tumbled into the room where Mike was still curled on the couch, looking even more battered than before.

He startled away, one eye now completely shut. "Lea?"

"No, Mike, it's Joni. And Nathan. And his brother. Come on, we're getting out of here."

"Going where?" Mike said bitterly. "I'm pretty sure we're on a boat. I've been fuckin' seasick for hours."

"Ahoy, there," Carrick snapped. "We're docked outside of Atlantic City for another, oh, five minutes, so we're taking you and Joni to jump off the back, where some very nice people are waiting with very nice oxygen that will allow us all to swim to shore undetected. Think you can handle it?"

Mike coughed. A bit of blood came out.

"Fuck," said Carrick.

I turned to Nathan. "Why is he doing that?"

Nathan shook his head. "It could be a lot of things. Trauma to the throat, nose, chest, punctured lung?—"

"Doc!" Carrick snapped. "We need to move. Can he go?"

Nathan looked at me. "I don't know."

"Just go." Mike looked pale, like he wanted to pass out again. "I'll be fine."

We all knew that was a lie.

"Think of Lea and the kids," I told him. "If you stay here, it's a death sentence. They're going to kill you. Ares said so."

At the mention of my sister and their children, one last bit of life gleamed in Mike's eyes.

"All right," he said, shoving off the couch so he could stumble toward us. "Let's go."

He allowed Nathan to sling Mike's arm over his shoulder and tow him toward the entrance. I followed Carrick toward the back door, which we opened quietly, conscious of the sounds of men partying on the deck above.

"All right," Carrick said in a voice that could barely be heard over the party. "Joni, you go first. The divers are waiting just under the surface."

"I don't think so."

We all turned to find Lis Antoni and his son, Ares, standing in the doorway behind us. Lis carried a gun, which was pointed directly at me.

"Going for a little swim?" Lis asked, his accent stronger than ever. "Too bad you can't take Vamos with you. He's bleeding out on my carpet."

None of us denied it. Nor did we move.

"Please," I whimpered. "Just let us go. We won't tell anyone, we won't say a word, but we have families, and?—"

"And I don't care," Lis cut me off.

"Is this all really because you want a few more cars stolen?" I couldn't help but ask. "A shop to run? If that's all it is, we'll give you the cars and the shop! Whatever you want, really!"

"Cars?" Lis snickered. "You think this is about few measly cars? This is revenge! For Benjamin Vamos."

Behind him, his son shook his head. "It's your brother," Ares said quietly. "Last year, he and his D.A. cronies put away Benjamin Vamos."

I frowned. Who? As a former D.A., Matthew had put away his fair share of criminals, but what did that have to do with me and Mike?

"You didn't know about that?" Lis taunted. "He was your friend Shawn's father too. Though maybe not your friend no more, eh?" He cackled, a horrible, evil thing that made my gut twist. "I don't care about them. But I do care about my business. No more girls. No more trade." He shoved a fat finger at me. "You can take their place. And your brother"—he gestured toward Mike—"can give his life to teach the rest of them. It's only fair."

My lower lip began to tremble. "But—but?—"

"But what?" Lis demanded. He held up his gun. "Come on. Inside, now. All of you!"

I might have done as he ordered. But just as I was about to take a step forward, Ares shook his head ever so slightly. His eyes flickered to the water behind me, his meaning clear as he withdrew a gun from his own belt and tilted it toward his father.

Nathan stood next to me, his arm still holding Mike up, who was close to losing consciousness. On my other side was Carrick.

"All right, boys," I said as I took their hands. "Time to go in."

Mike looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Tell my wife I love her," he croaked.

I nodded and willed myself not to cry.

The gun didn't waver, but Lis's hand did seem to relax as he smiled. "Good girl."

At that, I turned and mustered the biggest, brightest smile I'd ever given in my life. "You have no idea."

And then I yanked on the two Hunt brothers' hands as hard as I could and fell back. Gunshots rang out as we fell into the ocean. I kicked as hard as I could, down and away, praying none of the bullets would reach me through the dark, kelpy water, though just through the wavering green light, I did see something that looked like Ares Antoni turning and shooting his father just as the other gun went off.

Something grabbed my shoulder. A hand. I almost screamed, but didn't before a mask was placed over my face. Oxygen. Just enough to get me by.

I looked through the water just enough to see other bodies receiving similar treatments from people in wetsuits, oxygen tanks strapped to their backs. Nathan and Carrick kicking easily. Mike floating, his eyes closed, being tugged by another man.

They pulled us away from the boat. Down, down.

And then the shadow of the boat was gone.

And so were we.