“Just think of those cousins and nieces and nephews hearing about how Felix Pérez stripped the cartel princess naked and put her on an auction block to be sold like a piece of meat to any number of Cristiano Grigori’s enemies. And let me tell you, there are plenty. My nephew wasn’t exactly good at making friends.”
“Do you even care about him at all? Do you care that he’s dead?”
“Of course, I do. He’s my brother’s son. I’m not a beast, Scarlett. But again, you digress.”
He opens the box on his lap then and I see a syringe lying inside. I drag my gaze from it back up to his.
“I’ll just leave you with one thought before I give you the gift of sleep.”
He lifts the syringe out of the box, takes the cap off and drops it onto the floor. He gestures to the soldier beside me to stretch my arm out, shoving my sleeve up and gripping it with two hands so hard, it burns.
“Don’t,” I try but it doesn’t matter, does it? Cristiano is dead and if he’s not, he will be soon. It’s what he said and why would he lie? And with what he and Felix have in store for me, isn’t it better if I’m knocked out?
“Just imagine,” he starts, leaning in close. Pushing the air out of the barrel, a few drops of liquid fall on my bare arm before I feel the point puncture skin. “How many men will be bidding to have you. The things they’ll do to you. Hell, if he’s really smart, if he really wants to make that example hit home, maybe he’ll just have them line up and take turns. Just think about that.”
My head lolls back. It’s hard to keep my eyes open or focused as he pulls the needle out and puts it back in its box.
“Noah,” I say, unable to lift my arms or hands or legs when the soldier releases me.
“Noah will have it easy in comparison. He’ll have a price on his head for the rest of his life which I’m going to guess will be a short one.”
“Go to hell,” I manage just before I can’t open my eyes anymore.
“I expect you’ll be there sooner than me. Good night, Scarlett De La Cruz. Sleep tight.”
29
Cristiano
Loud voices cut through the nothingness of a heavy sleep. A familiar sleep. One I don’t want.
“Let me through.” I recognize this one. The others I don’t know. All men and one woman. She’s the reasonable one.
“For fuck’s sake if you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to kill every one of you mother fuckers.”
Dante. I try to make my face work but something’s wrong. I want to tell them to let him in. But let him in where? And why can’t I fucking move? Why can’t I wake up?
“He’s being moved from your facility,” another familiar voice says. Charlie. Yes, Charlie. He’s also reasonable. Calm.
“Get security up here,” the woman’s voice says.
There’s a crash and then the voices are louder.
“Shit.” Dante again.
I should open my eyes. I’m trying to.
“Cris.” It’s Dante and he’s closer now. “Fuck. Cris. Fuck. Open your eyes, man.”
Someone pulls up an eyelid and shines a bright light into my eye. I groan against the intrusion. At least I can groan. Make some sound of resistance.
“He’s heavily sedated. Help me. Take that.”
I feel my arm lifted then set back down before someone prods my side. Now that fucking hurts.
“There’s no reason for him to be sedated. Surgery was over a full twenty-four hours ago.” The last part fades out as I start to drift off again. Maybe I can go back to that beach. See Elizabeth and mom one more time. What had they said last time?
“Wake up, Brother,” Dante says and in usual form, he slaps my face a couple of times. “You need to open your eyes. I need you to open your fucking eyes.”
“Let’s get him on that stretcher. Dante, you take that side.” It’s Dr. Marino.
The instant I’m lifted pain cuts through my side. That groan must be me because the doctor’s yelling at them to be careful.
“Can’t you give him something to wake him up?” Dante snaps, his tone urgent. He’s closer to my ear now and I’m being rolled. I hear Charlie again and the woman. They’re arguing. Charlie will win.
“It won’t be safe,” Dr. Marino says.
I hear a ding. An elevator. The wheels bump as they cross the threshold and I feel my side again. My head lolls and I open my eyes, or I think I do, and I see Marcus Rinaldi. I see his dead eyes. See the knife in his throat.
I put it there. I killed him.
The doors swoosh open and we’re rolling again. A few minutes later, we’re outside. I feel it in the change of temperature, in the fresh, not chemically scented air.