Bones didn’t hug me back. He kept his arms by his sides, refusing to be affectionate even though his hands were usually on me all the time. His chest rose and fell at a steady pace, constricting his emotion and keeping everything bottled inside. He pretended none of this mattered, but if it really didn’t matter, he wouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. “I thought you hated me.”
It was one of the only times when I sat on his lap and I didn’t feel his dick get hard. His mind wasn’t on sex, which was rare. This conversation obviously disturbed him, emotionally affected him. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, that I don’t understand. And it doesn’t mean I’m not sorry for what happened to you.”
After several heartbeats, his arms moved around my waist, and he held me close to him, his arms warm and heavy. He turned his cheek against mine and held me like that, saying nothing.
“Where are we going?”
Bones drove his truck through the streets of Milan and stopped at a traffic light. “You’ll see.”
“Why did I need to pack a bag?”
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Are you surprised?”
The light changed, and Bones drove once more. He headed through the congested streets and past the ancient cathedrals. Despite the cold, it was a beautiful day. The sun was bright, and the clouds were gone. Snow was piled up in the gutters, turning into slush. “I’m surprised you keep asking questions when you never get answers.”
“I’d like to know where I’m going and how long I’ll be gone.”
“You’ll always be gone,” he countered. “You’ve been gone since the moment I took you.”
I faced forward, abandoning my interrogation. My gun was left in my apartment, hidden in my bedroom until I found the right time to use it. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind I could pull the trigger. I may pity him, but it wouldn’t change the divide between us.
We were enemies.
We drove for fifteen minutes before Bones pulled into an empty parking lot in front of a building. The property was protected by a thick black gate that automatically opened when his car got close to it.
He pulled into a spot and killed the engine.
What was this place? Did he change his mind about killing me? Was this where he was going to do it? If that were the case, why would he ask me to pack a bag? “Where are we?”
He grabbed my bag out of the backseat and pulled it over his shoulder. “I told you I have a place in Milan. This is it.”
I followed him into the deserted lobby and into the elevator. “You’re the only tenant?”
“Yes.”
Conway had the same kind of set up, but I didn’t say that out loud just in case Bones didn’t know that. We rode the elevator to the top.
“The top floor is my personal quarters. The other floors are for my…hobbies.”
I didn’t ask what those hobbies were because I knew it involved violence and murder.
The doors opened to a large living room, designed in a classic Tuscan style. It still had the simplicity his place in Lake Garda had. It was open, comfortable, and beautiful. The living room alone was enormous. He could entertain fifty people, easily. I admired the rug on the floor and the dark furniture. Without knowing the occupant, I would know that a man lived here. “You don’t like my apartment anymore?”
“Your apartment is fine. I just needed more room.” He pulled the bag off his shoulder and set it on the couch.
Now I was starting to panic. What did he need more room for? What if he had a room already set up with the plastic and the camera? What if he was going to return me to my parents in pieces?
Why didn’t I bring that gun?
He must have brought me here so no one would hear my screams.
Fuck.
I quickly looked around for a weapon. There were a few vases and other decorations, but unless I hit his skull just right, it wouldn’t do enough damage. I couldn’t keep my breathing in check, and my heart was beating out of rhythm.
“Come.” He started to head to the hallway. “I’ll show you.”
I didn’t follow, knowing exactly what was waiting for me. Our touching moment yesterday meant nothing to him. I sympathized with his suffering despite what he did to me, and now he wanted to kill me anyway. Maybe my pity was the reason he flipped a switch. Maybe he was starting to pity me in return and he was losing his resolve, so he wanted to kill me now while he could still do it.
When I wasn’t behind him, he turned around and looked at me. “I said come.”
The elevator was behind me, but the doors were closed. I could sprint and hit the button, but the doors wouldn’t open quick enough. Even if I could get to my phone, I probably wouldn’t be able to call my father fast enough. And he wouldn’t get here for hours anyway.