Chapter 8 Murderer… Kidnapper!
❦ Rosalind ❦
My jaw hurt, my back burned, and my ankles and wrists felt numb.
As I regained consciousness, I realized why. I was seated on a plain wooden chair, my wrists tied tightly behind me, and my ankles bound to each of the front legs of the chair. My tongue flicked over parched lips, and the unmistakable taste and smell of blood made me swoon.
My eyes adjusted just in time to see a masked figure swing and hit a man hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse container by his wrists.
Dante made no sound, taking each punch with a stony expression. His face was slick with blood.
“Stop,” I croaked. “Leave him alone.”
The punching stopped. As the tall, muscular beast of a man approached me, Dante drew his legs up and kicked him in the back, but the man didn’t even flinch.
He reached me and swung his palm into my face. Stars exploded in my vision.
And then darkness.
The next time I woke up, I was untied. Still hurting, but in a moving vehicle.
I kept still, squinting through swollen lids to take in my environment.
Strong arms held me against a warm, solid chest. With every breath, sandalwood and cedar filled my head with a calming effect. I looked up, tracing the chest tattoos to a muscular neck, sharp jaw, and gray eyes.
Hold up. Gray eyes?
I snapped to attention, my forehead slamming into his jaw as I jolted forward and out of his hold.
“Cazzo!” he growled, rubbing his chin with a glare as I scrambled away from him. “What the hell?”
“Stay away!” I screamed, unleashing desperate kicks at him, my back pressing against the opposite door. “How dare you kidnap me?!”
He drew a hand down his face in frustration. “Kidnap? Dio, aiutami.”
“Don’t even bother! God won’t bother with you. Murderer,” I snapped, adding another kick for good measure. “Kidnapper!”
He grabbed my legs, pinning them easily to his thighs. My heart thudded in my chest. Is this the end?
I looked around for something to defend myself with, then screeched as Viktor dragged me back against his body with one hand.
“Relax, bambina.”
Like hell I would. I swung my fist, but he caught it.
“I saved you.”
“W-what?”
“Yes. I rescued you. Took a bullet graze and a knife wound because of you.”
I looked around, still panicked. “Where’s Dante?”
Viktor pointed over his shoulder casually. “He’s in the back. You can check if you want.”
With a cautious glance toward him to make sure this wasn’t a distraction so he could hurt me, I knelt on the leather seat and peered over it into the next row.
Dante lay unconscious, sprawled across the seat with his formerly white shirt torn and bloodied.
I gulped. “Is he…?”
“He’ll live. We’ll drop him off at a famiglia doctor.”
I slid back into my seat, touching my tender jaw with my fingers. My enemy had saved my life. Why? What did he want in return?
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
“How did you know where I was?” I threw him a suspicious glance.
“I always know where you are.”
I took him in. His cream-colored dress shirt and khaki pants were bloodstained, the first few buttons missing. His knuckles and hair were matted with blood.
Suddenly, I was aware of the heat and tension between us, my eyes feasting on the bulging muscles of his arms and thighs. My chest thundered with a beat different from fear.
“If you’re done ogling,” he muttered, “tell me where you were headed in such light clothing at that time of night.”
My gaze snapped to his, my face heating up with embarrassment.
“None of your business. Why do you always know where I am? Are you stalking me?”
“I don’t stalk. I keep an eye on my assets.” His gray eyes clouded over, sending a chill down my spine.
“I am not your asset.”
“Okay. Fiancée.”
“I’m NOT… ugh,” I said, exasperated.
I crossed my arms and looked out the window, the gravity of what happened finally settling in.
I’d been kidnapped, almost killed. Dante was unconscious. And somehow, I was in a car with my worst enemy, and he claimed he had rescued me.
The tremors started again, and before long, tears streamed down my swollen cheek. I shivered.
“I told you it was dangerous, Rosa. Someone obviously wants you dead,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Someone other than you, you mean,” I retorted.
It was one thing to know your enemy. But one that lurked in the shadows? That was something else entirely.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe… no. That’s what they wanted. They wanted me to give up, to pack up and run while they circled like vultures over my downfall.
As the lights of New York streamed by, I recognized where we were headed.
“No. I don’t want to go home.”
I turned to face him, only to see that he had been watching me. I reddened again.
“Why not?”
Marcus had his own place, but in case he was still at mine going through my father’s records, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to see the I-told-you-so expression he would definitely give me.
“We were headed to the Grand Marlow before we were… attacked,” I said, my shoulders sagging in defeat. “That’s where I want to go.”
Viktor said nothing but ordered the change of direction in Italian.
After dropping Dante off at an apartment where a kindly older woman treated my face, wrists, and ankles, Viktor assured me he’d be taken care of. Then we drove to the hotel.
He insisted on walking me to the penthouse suite, where some Soldatos loyal to the Marlow name almost attacked him on seeing our bloodied forms.
I was tempted to let them restrain him just to remind him whose turf he was on and wipe the confident smirk off his face.
At the door, I pressed my thumb to the scanner. As the door slid open with a hiss, I turned to him.
“I’m here. You can leave now.”
He cocked a brow. “Not even a thank you or a glass of water for your savior?”
I spun without responding and, to my annoyance, he walked in behind me.
As soon as the door slid shut, I froze. The hairs on my nape rose. I was alone with him again. Just me and him. And a locked door.
He made no sound behind me. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. I flicked my gaze toward the private kitchen, calculating how fast I could get to a weapon.