Chapter 17 - Emory

My head ached like someone had driven a railroad spike through my front lobe. There was a miserable burning in my eyes, and when I tried to open them, I was met with more darkness. More of my brain woke up, and I jerked as I realized that I was blindfolded and tied to a chair.

My hands, in particular, were bound behind me, with a set of ropes holding me down to the seat over my thighs and strapped over my chest. Sounds began to register, and with no other stimuli to guess where I might be, I trained my ears on the noises filtering in around me.

I could hear plinking—like water dripping onto something metal or glass. There was also a very distant sound of humming, which I guessed might be something electrical. Semis also sounded in the background, engine breaking and revving up, but it was too far away to do me much good.

Dammit, Emory. Where are you?

A deep, drawn-out horn of sorts rang out somewhat louder than the semis, leading me to believe that whatever was making the noise was closer. After a moment, I put together that it was a ship's horn. The low bellowing sound that tankers and shipping vessels made. Was I by the docks?

That could be both a good and a bad thing. The docks meant I was still in Chicago and likely close to downtown. It also meant that I was likely either in the industrial district—filled with so many warehouses and defunct factories that I still couldn't be sure where I was—or somewhere near Navy Pier.

That seemed particularly unlikely.

Okay, okay, okay. Industrial district. What's there? What would I be near that could—

But my thoughts were interrupted when the blindfold shielding my eyes was torn away, and a horrible ray of white light hit my face. I reeled back, my eyes immediately watering.

"Well, morning there, sunshine." The voice that spoke was heavily accented, and even with my limited knowledge, I could place it as Italian. "So glad that you could join the party. It should be quite fun."

It took me several moments to blink before I could finally open my eyes and look around me. The warehouse was right out of the movies. Mattresses and old crates were lying around, the ground was filthy, cracked cement, and the massive windows that sat on either side of the building were caked in dust and grime.

"What do you want from me?"

I allowed my eyes to focus, and when they did, my stare landed on the tallish man who stood in front of me, wearing an impeccable suit, too.

"Well, unfortunately," he walked closer, the sound of his steps clicking against the floor, "it's not you that we actually want. You're just a silly little mouse who's gotten herself roped into the ugly nonsense of the Unholy Trinity."

My stomach flip-flopped. I knew what Vlad and his brothers called themselves, and I knew that the Italians had it out for them from Vlad's own admission. But what exactly were these thugs going to use me for? I had a feeling that Vlad wouldn't want me getting hurt, sure. Still, Ivan and Abe didn't have nearly the same reason to come after me, and doing so was a considerable risk.

"They won't come here. I'm nothing to them. I'm just a therapist."

The man scoffed. "Oh, well, I really would hate it if that were the case. Still, if they don't, at least my boys here will have something to play with for a minute."

Nausea crawled up the back of my throat, and I did everything I could to keep myself from crying. These types of men, criminals , didn't care if I cried. Hell, if the rumors were correct, they enjoyed it.

"Aww, what did you expect, ragazza? Your boy Vlad and his brother were just about to do the same thing. They have quite the reputation among the families. The Vadims' assault dogs. Vicious, violent killers who take whatever they want and will do anything you ask if the price is right."

Apparently, my poker face wasn't as good as I'd hoped. Worse, my brain scrambled with doubt. Vlad had told me that he'd killed people, and I knew that was what they were planning to do to the Italians. Was he really just a thug?

No, come on, Emory. You've talked with the guy. He does give "stone-cold killer" vibes. He's…he's…

But panic and terror were crowding out my thoughts, and I instinctively fought against my ropes. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want anything to do with all this nonsense. A quiet life with my practice. Nights in. That's what I was built for.

"Besides, we have a feeling that at least one of them will come." The man was so close now, smirking at me as an evil light lit up behind his eyes. "Vlad's all about that forbidden pussy. Fucking his shrink just to say he can. You two put on quite the show before we busted in. Hell, we would have sooner, but all of us were just thrilled to watch through our long-range camera. We were taking bets on what you two would do next."

Horror tore through me. These vile men had watched Vlad and me have sex. They'd been right there the entire time. Disgust pooled in my stomach, making me feel dirty and wrong. I silently begged for a shower or, better yet, a hole to crawl into and never come back out of.

I wasn't sure if I wanted Vlad to come now. I didn't want these terrible fucking men to be right, and as I scanned over the group in front of me, they just snickered, some making eyes that could only be interpreted one way.

God, how wrong have I been? Was Vlad just using me for sex this entire time?

But even with everything this man had said, I still couldn't believe it. Or maybe I just didn't want to. Still, Vlad had been… different with me. Was that a na?ve thought to entertain, though?

God, did I just get my hopes up about a patient? A patient I slept with. The man I lost my virginity to. Fucking hell.

"Don't look so glum, ragazza. It doesn't matter anyway. You're just bait. So regardless of who you are or even if they come. You're serving your purpose. And it's a lot been than a woman could usually be trusted to do."

My heart sank. Of course, this machismo asshole was also a misogynist. That really shouldn't surprise me.

"Silly, silly mouse. Should have stayed at home where you belong. Making babies and taking after your husband. But you had to go and try to be a ‘career woman.'"

The words were laced with venom, my captor's disgust billowing through his speech like an evil wind that flayed skin. I wasn't about to say anything, though. I wasn't an idiot, as much as this man would have clearly preferred that. I knew better than to challenge him while I was still in such a vulnerable position.

I needed to get out of these damn ropes.

"I won't help you. I swear to God, I will not let you hurt him." He chuckled, his sneer poison and pain. "I don't care if you're right about him either. I won't help a bunch of thugs hurt anyone."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The Italian man stepped closer, winding his fingers beneath the thick fabric that had been used to blind me. "Such a mouth on you. If you can't say anything nice, ragazza, you shouldn't say anything at all."

He yanked the fabric up over my chin. I assumed he was going to blindfold me again—was about to hoist up the strap over my face and take away my sight—but he didn't. Instead, the cloth, which was sour from the taste of my own sweat plus whatever else was on it, was secured between my teeth.

The gag tasted foul, and I couldn't speak. Immediately, drool began to collect on my chin, and then I was spun around as the man pulled the chair toward the door and positioned me to face it.

A set of lips came to my ear, and the Italian mafioso whispered gently. "Scream or make whatever sound you want. It doesn't matter. You're going to sit here and have a front-row seat to the show. Once your beau shows up, I will get what information I can from him. Then…"

He stood up, walking around me off into the distance where I couldn't see him anymore.

"I'm going to kill him."

The room went silent, the sounds of footsteps and laughter fading into nothing as the room emptied. I was left alone in the shadowy room with my heart pounding against my ribcage. I couldn't let that asshole kill Vlad. Or either of his brothers. But what exactly was I supposed to do?

Fear and sorrow tugged at the edges, making me want to sob until I couldn't anymore.

But that wouldn't do me or him any good. So, I started squeezing my fingers together and pulling against the ropes. If I could get a hand free, it would change everything. I just needed to get one of my hands free.

And I was willing to dislocate my thumb if I had to.