Chapter 32 Red Linen
❦ Rosalind ❦
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
His face, though expressionless, still betrayed him. His nostrils twitched, and he fought the urge to break eye contact.
“Not exactly. I’m sure you know everything there is to know.”
“What is the largest money-making operation?”
“The gambling rings and underground casino.”
“Right. Then why do the Marinos and Contis so desperately want it? It can’t be for the money.” I insisted. They had their own assets and dealt in drugs and weapons.
Viktor had accused me of knowing something about the Grand Marlow, something important. I had a feeling it was the key to the entire mystery.
“It’s about power, Rosalind.” He drew up to his full height in his seat, setting down the pen with a quiet clink in its holder. “Power is not content. Everyone wants more and more. If one man could own the world, he would set it in his sights.”
Feeling stuffy under his piercing gaze, I stood up to stand by the open window. A garden sculptor was shaping the grass into interesting geometric shapes.
“If I die, everything goes to my aunt. The hotel. The land. Every dirty secret hidden in that marble palace. And she’s not one of us. She’ll torch it all before letting anyone touch a cent. That’s why they won’t kill me. That’s why they’re all trying to put a fucking ring on my finger.”
“That’s correct,” Marcus confirmed behind me.
“And yet, I can’t hold on to it for too long either, or they’ll get desperate. I know I’m way in over my head here. But my biggest priority is finding my father’s killer. Do we have any leads in that regard?”
“Speaking of. We have a man in custody who’s refusing to speak. The gun used in the murders was traced to him.”
I spun so fast my neck twinged.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We’ll handle it. It’s dirty business…”
“It’s my business.” I cut in. “I want to see him.”
With a sigh, he rose.
“Very well.”
I didn’t even realize I was twisting my finger until it popped off. I immediately screwed it back on, letting my hands drop to my sides as I followed Marcus out of the house.
The drive was short, and we pulled up in front of a large abandoned building, but when we stepped inside, it wasn’t abandoned at all.
Flanked by six heavily armed soldatos, we walked through a large hall with a large rusty metal cage inside. I flinched back at the sight, which reminded me of being locked in with Primo’s dogs.
Lights were rigged on the ceiling to point to the center of the fighting cage, and a stocked bar stood to the left. I wondered why this was how I found out we owned a fighting ring.
“Any word from Dante?” I asked, my voice echoing as we walked down the stairs to a basement level.
“Not yet. But we’re on it.” I didn’t like Marcus’s tone of voice, it sounded detached and not urgent at all.
Dante was a capable man and I’d bonded with him somewhat. I couldn’t bear to imagine what he could be going through in Viktor’s hands if he hadn’t escaped.
We stepped through a large soundproof door, and the sight immediately clenched my stomach.
Formerly white walls, now stained with dried blood. Walls lined with various torture devices. A man chained to a chair in the middle.
One of the men we met at the front door approached and swiftly kicked him in the shin with his boot.
The man grunted in pain, his mouth stuffed with a metal ball chained around his head.
My mouth went dry. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Marcus said he would handle it. But curiosity urged me forward.
“Take it off,” I ordered, my voice stronger than I felt.
The soldato unlocked the chain and took out the ball.
The man immediately coughed and sputtered, his bloodshot eyes regarding me with fear and a hint of curiosity.
I knew I didn’t look intimidating in my cargo shorts and white tank top. I schooled my expression to one of indifference.
“Did you kill George Marlow?” I asked. I wanted answers fast before I threw up from nerves.
“What’s it to you,” he croaked.
“I am his daughter.”
His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t decipher.
“I already told them. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know nothing. They’re only using me as a scapegoat to cover up…”
The soldato beside him launched forward so fast, I flinched. Metal glinted as a large butcher knife tore through the man’s wrist.
Blood sprayed toward me, a few drops spattering my white top.
He howled, his screams piercing my chest.
Nausea blurred my vision, my heart raced as I felt hands steady me from behind.
“I told you I would handle this. You’ve done enough. Let’s get you home,” Marcus muttered behind me.
I didn’t even argue, couldn’t. I needed air. I needed to leave this place with its metallic smell of blood and bloodcurdling screams.
I shrugged out of Marcus’s arms, taking the stairs two at a time.
I burst out of the building, the sun beating down on my face as I drew in desperate breaths.
What did he mean, he was being used as a scapegoat? By who? And why?
And the way the soldato cut his arm off, it wasn’t to encourage him to talk, but to prevent him from talking.
As I stood, I noticed a brown box on the hood of my car.
I looked around, but the lot was empty, hot air blowing softly in the silence.
Against my better judgment, I walked over and snatched it up. It wasn’t heavy, so I knew it wasn’t a bomb.
I ripped the tape with the hidden blade in my ring, tearing open the box.
Something lay inside, wrapped in soft red linen. I picked it up and unwrapped it.
One glance, and I flung it away with a shriek, it landed on the hot asphalt with a sick splat.
Skin… with the tattoo of a star with a curved dagger around it. Dried blood caked the edges, but it looked fresh.
My phone pinged in my pocket. I took it out.
Meet me at Club Lux, alone, or I’ll send a bigger piece. – Viktor
Dante.
That’s when I heaved, painting the asphalt with my lunch.