3. Elle
3
ELLE
There are only two things I’m absolutely certain about.
One is that I have no idea whether or not Lucia is alive. And the second is that I will likely die in this motel room.
Not exactly the most comforting of thoughts but when the body of my kidnapper is lying dead at my feet in a pool of his own blood, my usual knack for finding silver linings is proving difficult.
I don’t struggle against the restraints that are keeping me tied to the rickety wooden chair in the corner of the motel room. I almost laughed as my captors bound my wrists with rope considering the fact that both of them are well over six feet tall and have the combined weight of a grizzly bear.
I’m not exactly in a position to fight them off, which only adds to the panic that is causing my stomach to churn painfully.
I’m trying my best not to breathe through my nose as the room smells of dampness and blood, which, mixed with the alcohol currently lining my stomach, is making me nauseous to the point of almost throwing up.
To distract myself from the crippling fear, I silently observe my two captors as they sit side by side on the moth-eaten couch and talk in hushed whispers.
With every glance in my direction, my heart rate spikes, and I know they can see the fear in my eyes no matter how hard I try to school my features into a neutral expression. Which is already hard to do when my kidnapper’s body is right at my feet.
One wrong move could have me joining him.
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I try to tune into their conversation and get as much information as I can from my very limited Russian vocabulary.
The only reason I’m here is because of Massimo, ex-Don of the Conti mafia, and my uncle.
I love my uncle dearly, but I have no love for his chosen vocation. Though, I suppose he didn’t have a choice after my parents were killed, and he took over as head of the family. Part of me wished I could have lived with him and stayed in New York after they died rather than being shipped off to live with my grandmother in Italy, but I’m grateful to have been raised away from the horrors of his world.
That is, until I decided to move to New York when I turned eighteen to study nursing at NYU. It was the best decision for my education and thankfully, Massimo took me in and let me live in his Tribeca penthouse rent free, as well as paying for all of my tuition. I got to hang out with my cousins.
I will forever be grateful to him for that, but that doesn’t mean I want to become a pawn in one of his many twisted games .
But when the players are my family, I might not have a choice.
My cousin Lucia recently married into the Koslov Bratva while her brother, Federico, took over from Massimo as head of the Conti mafia after Massimo suffered some near-fatal injuries during an ambush on Lucia’s wedding day almost two years ago.
The web of enemies that could be behind my kidnapping is expanding beyond just the Contis, and I can only hope that I’m not about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
Perhaps it’s from exhaustion or fear, but as I stare down at the blank expression of the body at my feet, it begins to morph into Lucia.
I blink, and now it’s Federico.
I blink again, and now it’s my own dead eyes staring up at me.
Swallowing a sob, I try not to spiral, which is hard when I’m completely at the mercy of two men who have no conscience when it comes to putting a bullet in someone’s skull.
I’m no stranger to death. I was eight years old when my parents and brother were killed in a house fire, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t feel guilty for being the only one who survived.
I often think that their deaths subconsciously pushed me toward a career where I’m constantly surrounded by the sick and the dying. I’ve lost count of the amount of lives I’ve helped save from the very injuries that they died from.
I used to hope that by saving others, it would help to ease the guilt that weighs heavy on my heart, but it only makes it worse .
A few Russian words catch my attention, snapping me out of the guilt spiral that I often find myself in.
Now is not the time for dwelling on the past. Not if I want to make it out of this motel room alive.
I need a plan.
Lucia is the only person who has my location on her phone, but she’s used to my periods of quiet, especially after a long week of night shifts. Not that it matters, seeing as I left my phone in the bar.
By the time she realizes I’m missing, it’ll likely be too late for me.
There is no boyfriend who’s expecting me to come home or even roommates who are concerned by my lack of appearance in the kitchen the moment the morning coffee has finished brewing.
I’m all alone.
The thought has my eyes stinging.
“I-I need to use the b-bathroom.”
Neither man acts like they’ve heard me. Instead, their attention remains on their phones as they continue to mutter to one another in Russian.
Maybe if I say it louder… “I need to use the bathroom.”
“No,” the bigger one grunts without looking my way.
“Please.” I pull against the ropes around my wrists.
My voice cracks, and it’s enough to spark the attention of my other captor, the very one who pulled his gun on my kidnapper.
I try not to cringe as he gets to his feet and stalks over to me with an expression of disgust on his face.
Knowing that he has a gun tucked inside his jacket almost has me relieving myself right here on this chair.
“I need the bathroom. ”
He wrinkles his nose before crouching in front of me, eyeing the rope around my wrists. “No funny business.”
I shake my head. “No funny business.”
He scowls at me before reaching out to begin untying the rope.
His calloused fingers sliding against my skin only increase the urge to vomit.
“You have one minute.” He tosses the rope aside, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm.
I nod, blinking past the tears in my eyes as I try not to imagine all the ways in which he could kill me with his bare hands.
He yanks me to my feet and drags me across the cramped room toward the bathroom. I half expect him to insist on coming inside to keep an eye on me but thankfully, there’s barely enough room to move between the toilet and the sink, both of which look like they haven’t been cleaned in a while.
“No funny business.” He pushes me inside the bathroom, slamming the door closed.
I don’t need the reminder, but maybe that’s the only sentence he knows.
I take a moment to just breathe.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I sway on my feet as I try to take control of my emotions. This might be my only chance to escape, so I can’t afford to make any mistakes.
Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of my blouse, I reach down to slowly slide the lock across the door. It won’t be enough to keep either of the men out, but it might just buy me an extra few seconds which, at this point, could be the difference between life and death.
My body is vibrating from how hard my heart is beating in my chest.
Glancing around the cramped bathroom, my eyes land on the tiny window above the toilet.
Perhaps there is a silver lining after all.
Before I have a chance to overthink the fact that the window is barely large enough for a child to fit through, I climb onto the lid of the toilet and reach up to push against the glass.
The hinge is rusty and stiff but with another push, I manage to force the window open.
“Here goes nothing.” I step one foot up onto the toilet while gripping the edge of the window.
Just as I’m about to pull myself up, a fist pounds against the door, making me jump so suddenly that I almost lose my footing.
Shit.
“Hurry up!”
The handle jiggles, and the breath catches in my throat as a few curse words in Russian are uttered on the other side of the door.
It’s now or never.
I push up off the toilet and get my torso through the window just as the door is kicked open.
“For fuck’s sake!” He grabs my hips.
My hands scrape against the splintered frame as he roughly pulls me back through the window.
“Please.”
He wraps his arms around my body and hauls me against his chest.
“I fucking warned you,” he hisses as he carries me back into the room .
I lock eyes with my other captor, who remains on the couch looking thoroughly bored by the entire interaction.
“Let…go…of…me.” I’m no match for his strength.
He tosses me onto the bed. “Get the rope.”
I cry as he climbs onto the bed and pins my hands above my head with one of his own. “Please.”
The veins in his forearms pop as he tightens his grip to the point of pain.
He’s so close that I’m being scorched by the heat radiating from his body, and he smells of sweat and tobacco.
I fight the urge to gag as he leans in, his harsh stubble grazing my cheek as he whispers in my ear.
“You’re going to regret your little escape attempt.”
I try to squirm, but he shifts his body so that he’s straddling me, trapping my legs beneath him with his strong thighs.
“The things we could do together.” His free hand grazes my bare thigh. “Good thing we have all night.”
A cackling laugh sounds from across the room, and that tiny spark of hope in my chest extinguishes as I turn my face toward the other man.
He’s watching me with feral amusement as he loosens the black tie around his neck.
I know how this is going to go.
I’m frozen as the rope returns to my wrists, binding me to the bed, leaving me completely at their mercy.
If I had only been faster…
By the end of this, I know I’m going to be begging for death to take me.
He tosses his tie to the asshole pinning me to the bed.
“I bet you like it fucking rough,” he whispers in my ear as he ties the blindfold over my eyes. “It’s always the innocent looking ones that are freaks in the bedroom. ”
I hold back a whimper as it all goes dark.
A small part of me was hoping to find comfort in the darkness, but it only heightens my other senses as hands roam over my body.
When his fingers grab at the buttons on my blouse, I brace myself as he yanks it open to expose my bare torso and bra.
“I don’t normally like small tits, but I can make these work.” His fingers trail along the swell of my breasts.
More laughter sounds from the other guy and tears prick my eyes as my skirt is hitched up around my waist, exposing my underwear.
“These are very naughty,” he grunts as he dips two fingers into the waistband of my red lace panties. “Maybe I’ll keep these on to start wi?—”
An explosion goes off. No, wait, a gunshot.
I scream.
The weight on top of me is gone in an instant as another shot is fired followed by indistinct shouts in both Russian and English.
One of the voices is new and male, but it’s not one I recognize. For all I know, it could be another captor looking to claim me as a prize rather than a knight in shining armor.
A strangled sob escapes my lips as all hell seems to break loose.
Another shot is fired followed by a hard thump. Is that someone hitting the floor?
But who?
My body flinches with each shot that is fired.
Is the next bullet for me?
“Oh god.” My ears ring, and I’m covered in sweat as I try to pull against my restraints.
“Help!” I scream as I thrash against the bed. “Help me! ”
I’m completely trapped, with no way of knowing whether I’m going to live or die.
Another shot is fired, and I cry out at another loud thump.
For a moment, everything is quiet except for my heavy breathing.
“Please,” I whisper into the darkness. “Don’t…don’t hurt me.”
I flinch at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the bed.
“Please.” My voice breaks. “Please?—”
My breath catches in my throat as warm hands find my waist.
For a split second, I fear the worst, but then my skirt is being pulled back down and my blouse adjusted to cover my torso.
I don’t dare move as the hands begin to untie the ropes binding me to the bed, the brush of the fingers against my skin so gentle that is almost soothing.
I swallow a sob once the rope falls away and the hands move to lift me off the bed and cradle me against a warm chest. I cling to the soft material of the man’s clothing for comfort as his arms tighten around me, comforting me as I quietly sob.
The blindfold remains on, but I don’t miss the way he leans into me.
My body shudders as his breath tickles my skin as he whispers in my ear, “You’re safe now.”