Chapter 99 Shadows of the Past
❦ Rosalind ❦
I woke with a violent gasp, desperating trying to suck in the air clawing my lungs. My eyes flew open, and I shivered so hard that my bones rattled.
Water clung to me, streamed down my hair, my face, and soaked my clothes through to the skin. It wasn’t just cold, it was icy. My teeth chattered, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the water or the air slicing through me.
The place was an open-plan warehouse with windows that had no glass, only empty mouths for the wind to pour through. It was dark outside and I realized I’d been out for the whole day.
I shook so hard it hurt. And that’s when I realized I wasn’t alone.
Shapes were scattered around the space. Men. More than ten of them, dressed head-to-toe in black clothes. They looked like soldiers or bikers, or something in between. They were so still, they seemed like statues. But I knew better.
Cigarette ends glowed faintly in the dark, faintly illuminating the hard planes of their faces.
One of the statues moved. Then he stepped forward.
He broke from the shadows, wearing a crisp, dark suit.
My stomach knotted before my brain caught up.
I knew him. The man from the club.
The night one of the blond twins had been found dead.
He stopped directly in front of me and leaned down, studying me. His smile stretched slowly.
“I thought you were dead,” he murmured. His voice was smooth and detached. “You weren’t waking up. Would’ve spoiled everything if you had.”
My head spun, images from this morning flashing through my mind.
I remembered being dragged from the bushes, Jacques shouting, then falling like someone had cut his strings.
I’d been dragged toward the approaching vehicle I had heard only to realize it wasn’t friendlies. It had belonged to my kidnappers.
“Where the hell am I?” I forced firmness into my tone.
He chuckled darkly. “I chose right.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. “Right for what?”
He didn’t answer.
Another man walked toward me. My muscles tensed, but instead of striking, he bent and untied the rope from my wrists.
My arms dropped heavily as circulation burned like fire under my skin. Then, shockingly, he threw a thick jacket around my shoulders.
The fabric was rough, but I clutched it like a lifeline, dragging it close against my chest to beat the cold.
I looked from one figure to the next.
The man from the club extended his hand toward me in an almost gentle gesture, but my body stayed stiff.
His smile widened when I didn’t take it.
“I won’t harm you,” he said.
My eyes burned, tears threatening to fall, but I forced them back. I was exhausted, my body heavy from cold, from fear, from everything.
All I wanted was to go home.
Just to breathe in warmth again, to hear Viktor’s voice even if he annoyed me. My chest fluttered at the thought of him. He had to be searching for me by now. That image alone gave me courage.
“You kidnapped me. Tied me up. Threw freezing water on me. So stop wasting time and tell me what the hell you want.” I snapped, my voice trembled a little.
He leaned closer, and the dim light caught on his silver grills.
“Feisty,” he purred. “I like that.”
I remained stiff while waiting for him to speak. Then he tilted his head.
“There’s a way out of this. A smart way.”
I ignored his pronouncement. “Who are you?”
He paused for a moment, then pressed a hand to his chesst dramatically.
“Where are my manners?” he said smoothly. “Giannis Sanchez.”
The name meant nothing to me. My face stayed blank.
The smile slowly dulled on his lips at my silence.
His eyes hardened, his jaw clenched, and when he spoke, he sounded impatient. That made two of us.
“You don’t know the name?”
“Should I?”
His body jerked forward faster than I could register. He grabbed my throat, crushing the air out of me. I choked and scraped my nails at his skin, desperate for air. His eyes were black. Bottomless, wild.
The man was insane.
“Viktor never told you?” he spat, his breath hot against my face. “Not once? I left him souvenirs. I made myself known. And he never… never… mentioned me?”
Spots of light burst at the edges of my vision as I clawed harder, panic swallowing me.
“Maybe,” I rasped through my burning throat, “you’re not as important as you think you are.”
He growled, squeezed harder, then abruptly let go.
I collapsed to the ground, coughing. My palms burned from where I’d scraped them against the concrete.
His shadow loomed over me. “Don’t ruin this for yourself,” he snarled. “Don’t ruin the partnership I’m offering you.”
Still coughing, I looked up at him. “Why the hell would I want any partnership with you? If it’s the Grand Marlow you’re after, it’s not mine anymore. You’ll just have to bid like everyone else.”
Giannis chuckled. “Oh, I know. And I will. You can count on that.”
Ice slid down my spine. My stomach knotted so hard I thought I might be sick. I imagined him holding the deed in his bloody hands. I clenched my fists, forcing the panic back. No. I would buy it back, no matter what it took.
He crouched down to my level, eyeing me like a cat studying a cornered mouse. “But before that,” he said smoothly, “you’re going to help me with something.”
“What?”
“Revenge,” he purred, “and convenience. Viktor dies, knocking one player off the auction, and I get the pleasure of watching him fall. You help me, and you get what you want too.”
My pulse slammed in my ears. “Why would I ever do that?”
Giannis laughed. “Wasn’t that your plan all along? To sell the hotel, the one thing he wanted from you, and buy your freedom? Don’t play innocent. You already have his leash in your hand, darling.”
I took calculated breaths as my mind whirled. He said remove Viktor from the bidding list. But Viktor wasn’t even on it. He didn’t know about the auction… did he?
I raised my gaze, meeting Giannis’s eyes with a firmness of my own. “Revenge, you said. What exactly are you avenging?”
The shift in his face was instant. Mirth drained out of him like someone snuffed a light, and his eyes went dark again.
“My father,” he said flatly. “Guerrero Sanchez. Paulo Marino killed him ten years ago. And since both the father and son are dead, killed by none other than your beloved, he’ll be paying for it in their stead”
I pressed my lips together as exhaustion weighed me down.
“Ten years?” I snorted. “Don’t you think that’s long enough to just… forgive and forget?”
The silence that followed was thick, murder glinted in his eyes.
And for the first time in my life, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.