Chapter 4

MINA

Damon pulled the car into the garage of a large, but otherwise unassuming, brick house. A high, stone fence and a patch of land surrounded it, keeping the suburb around it at bay.

Reuben climbed out of the car and over to the interior door. "Gianni, take care of Mina." He disappeared inside, followed by Damon.

"You heard the boss," Gianni said. He waited until the garage door closed behind us, leaving us in dim light.

I undid my seatbelt and pushed open the door. Swallowed hard. I pulled the sunglasses off my face and held them in trembling fingers.

This isn't the basement, I told myself. It's just a garage. But I wanted to shrink back into the car and curl up on the seat. Let it be my cardboard box.

"It's okay," Gianni said softly. "I've got you. I'm going to snip off Lasalle's toes, one by one, when I catch up to him, but I've got you. Come on, step away from the car."

"I don't know if I can," I said. The walk to the door felt too far, too long. Too exposed.

"I can carry you," Gianni offered.

"No," I said quickly. I recoiled from the idea, and from him.

"It's okay if you want to stay here for a while," he said. "But there's a bath inside. Or a shower, if you prefer. And food. Terry made pizza last night, I bet there's some left over."

"Terry?" I asked in a quavering voice. I hated the sound of it. I was Mina DiMarco, I was stronger than this. I'd survived everything Kurt put me through. I wasn't going to break down now.

"He's Reuben's butler and chef and whatever the hell else," Gianni said. "He looks like a mountain, but he's harmless."

"The opposite of you," I said without thinking.

Gianni chuckled. "Something like that. I'm nice on the outside, but Reuben keeps me around because I know a variety of ways to get information from people."

"Torture?" I asked.

"If it comes to that," he agreed. "It's not my preferred method, necessarily. I don't hurt people for the fun of it, unless they deserve it. So, bath or shower?"

"With hot water?" I asked.

"As hot as you want," he agreed. "Unless you prefer cold?"

"I never want to feel cold water again," I said. I managed to push the car door closed behind me, but I leaned against the outside of the vehicle. Partly for physical support and partly for emotional.

How fucked up was I that a strange car felt like a safe place?

It was the first place in five years I could sit up and see daylight. The first surface I'd sat on that was actually comfortable. It was so small, but so big at the same time.

"Then you don't have to," Gianni said. He moved around in front of me and offered me his hand. "I understand being touched might be terrible. Just think of me as a crutch. Lean on me until you can lie down in the bath and get clean. Don't think of me as a person, if that helps."

I stared at his hand. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

The question made him frown. "Sweetheart, we found you in a cage, chained up like a wild animal. Don't you think it's time someone was nice to you? Also, Reuben told me to. But I would have anyway. You remind me of myself."

That statement made me blink. "How am I anything like you?"

"Some people think I'm an animal too," he said. "Like I said, I know a variety of ways to get people to talk, including torture. I don't flinch at blood, urine or screams of pain. Does that sound like a normal person to you?"

"In the world I grew up in? Yes," I said. He might be right that we were alike, but I didn't think he really understood how much.

He grinned. "I should have expected that answer. It sounds like your childhood was as fucked up as mine." His smile faded. "More so."

"Yeah." I pushed myself off the side of the car and started to slow walk to the door.

Halfway there, I had to grab his elbow to keep from falling. Through the fabric of his button down shirt, his skin was warm, reminding me he was definitely not just a crutch. He was a living, breathing person, and that was something I should be wary of. Whether or not I thought I could trust him, he was still a man. One who stood over a head taller than me. In my current state, it wouldn't matter what skills I had. I wouldn't be able to fend off him or anyone else.

That forced me to decide. I had to go along with them for now. I had to do everything I could to get fit and strong, until I could defend myself. Besides, the idea of pizza was enticing.

"That was what I thought," Gianni said.

I glanced sideways at him in confusion.

"You're stronger than you think you are," he said. "You're a fighter. I wouldn't expect anything less from a DiMarco."

"We're known for our stubbornness." I followed him inside the house.

He stopped in the middle of the dark hardwood floor. "There's no bathroom down here. I just remembered. Can you manage one more set of stairs?" He looked annoyed at himself.

"I can manage," I said. I let go of his elbow and made my way to the staircase leading upstairs.

It looked as though it had been there for a hundred years, along with the rest of the house. This must have been one of the first in the area, the suburbs growing up around it. The property had probably been in the Brantley family for a handful of generations. And now it belonged to Reuben.

I grabbed hold of the thick banister and pulled myself up step-by-step, while Gianni walked behind me. He made no attempt to touch me, or come too close. He just kept himself near enough that if I needed help, he'd be right there.

"You know mobsters aren't supposed to be nice," I said over my shoulder.

He chuckled. "I like to be different. Although, you're the first person who's ever called me nice. Usually it's something like ‘that psychotic prick who works for Reuben.' Obviously they don't know me very well. I'm not psychotic, I'm creative."

I snorted softly. "I see how those two things could get confused." I had some experience in that myself. In another lifetime.

"Go to the right at the top of the stairs," he said.

I did what he said, and stepped into a large bathroom. The floor was covered in black and white penny tiles, and the walls with white subways. In the back corner, was a large shower. Beside that was a freestanding, clawfoot tub. Opposite the bath was a vanity with light timber doors and double sinks, with a marble countertop. Everything had a colonial look, but new, like it was recently remodelled.

"Looks expensive," I remarked.

"Nothing but the best for Reuben," Gianni said. He opened a cabinet that matched the vanity and pulled out a couple of towels. He set them down beside the bath and turned on the water. "Let me guess, you're a lavender kind of girl?"

"I'm a girl who probably smells like a week-old corpse, I don't really care," I said.

"I didn't want to be rude." Gianni winked at me. He pulled out some purple bath salts and sprinkled them into the rising water. "If you climb in, I'll work on your hair."

"You'll—" I stared at him.

"My mother was a hairdresser. If anyone can do anything with it, it's me. Unless you want me to get Damon. He'll just bring a knife and cut it all off." He made a hacking gesture with his hand.

I put a hand to my head. I hadn't given much thought to my hair. Not for a long time. Every so often, Kurt would hack it shorter, but all I could do was run my fingers through it once in a while.

I stepped over towards the bath and caught sight of myself in the mirror. If I didn't know it was me, I never would have recognised myself. My cheeks were sunken in, my hair was tangled. My eyes looked huge in my face, greenish blue and haunted, surrounded by long lashes. I touched my cheek to make sure it really was me.

"I don't just smell like a week old corpse, I look like one," I said.

"Nothing a bath and trim won't fix," Gianni said. "Hop in." He turned his back and waved towards the bath.

He'd already seen me naked, but I appreciated the gesture. Especially given it was brighter in here than it was in the basement. In this light, I'd never hide all the scars.

I slipped off the jacket and stepped into the water. I closed my eyes and groaned at how incredible the warmth felt. I sank in, under the bubbles, and moaned again.

"It sounds like you're enjoying that," Gianni said. He turned around and hurried over to the vanity to pull out shampoo, conditioner and a pair of scissors. He knelt behind me and carefully started to wash my hair.

I flinched when his hands first touched my head.

He was still for a few moments, waiting for me to tell him to back off or keep going. Eventually, he started to slowly massage my scalp.

I grabbed up a bar of soap from the side of the bath and started to wash off years of dirt and grime from my skin. My ankle stung where the strap had been, as well as several other scratches and scrapes, but none of that detracted from how incredible it felt to be surrounded by hot water. Water that wouldn't stay clean for long.

"I'm going to rinse your hair," Gianni said. "Can you scoot down a bit?"

I slid down far enough to submerge the back of my head while he rubbed off the shampoo. I sat back up so he could apply the conditioner.

Using a wide tooth comb, he started to tease out some of the tangles. Every so often, he stopped to pick up the scissors and cut out a knot.

"He could have at least given you access to a hairbrush," he grumbled.

"If you have to cut it all off—" I started.

"Not all of it," Gianni said. He breathed out a frustrated sigh through his nose. "More than I'd like. Don't worry, you'll look adorable when I'm done with you."

"I'll settle for clean," I said.

"That, I can guarantee," he said. "There we go. Let's rinse off your hair again."

My head felt several times lighter when I lowered it into the water again. The rinsing took a lot less time.

"There we go. You'll feel like a whole new woman now." He stood and put everything away before picking up a towel and holding it out to me.

I could have stayed in there for hours, but the water was turning brown, so I stood while he averted his eyes, and took the towel. I wrapped it around myself and stepped out of the bath.

"I'll leave you for a few minutes," he said. "I'll ask Terry if he can find you some clothes." He hurried out the door and closed it behind him.

I pulled off the towel and quickly dried myself. A quick glance in the mirror showed my filthy, matted hair was now gone, replaced by a cute bob. Gianni saved more of it than I expected.

I still looked like a stranger to myself. How long would it take before the woman in the mirror looked like me?