Portia"Jesus!" I'm startled at the look of the very large and very excited German Shepherd that comes through the door.Callahan turns to look at me with a grin on his face-asshole which is gone the instant the giant hound sniffs me then sets his head on my lap, tail wagging like we're old friends.I admit, this is a scary looking dog but they're usually the sweetest. It's the little fuckers you have to watch for. I still remember a friend's yappy poodle chasing me around the dining room table on my first visit to her house when I was barely five."Well, hi there. What's your name, sweetie?" I ask him in a voice that makes Callahan roll his eyes as I lean down to cuddle the dog.Callahan mutters something under his breath. I don't hear what it is, but he sounds annoyed. Good."Cerberus. Here." He points beside him, but Callahan nuzzles his nose into my hair behind my ear. "Christ," he mutters and tugs the dog away. “Sit.""Hey!"The dog whines but sits, just barely, tail still waggin
Portia "Hey." I try to claw his arm off. “Where are we going?”He stops, looks back at me. “You saw your brother. He's fed. He's unhurt. Let's go.""That's not really fair.""It's exactly what you asked for.""But...no. That's not...I want to talk to him. Can he come upstairs, please? He's harmless." I gesture to Nathan as if to make a point."Are you warm?" Callahan asks Nathan over my head."I...guess." I forget how young he is. Just a kid. So unlike Vincent and Gregory were. “I have a blanket." He points to it as if he doesn't want to be any trouble.Callahan turns back to me. "You'll visit tomorrow." He pulls me to the stairs."He's probably scared down here all alone.""I think he's old enough to no longer be afraid of the dark. Let's go. If you give me trouble, you won't see him again."I go with him because I don't have much choice. "Does that mean we'll both be alive tomorrow?" I ask when we're upstairs.He releases me, looks down at me. Sweeps his eyes over my — his — clot
CallahanI don't look at my mother's portrait when I pass it, but turn the corner into a darker corridor. I make my way to my study thinking about what Portia said. That I have my mother's eyes. It's such a strange comment to make. Especially from her.Once inside, I close the door. The desk lamp is on. I set the whiskey bottle down, pull my sweater over my head, and sit before pouring another into a glass Lenore left on the desk. She worked for us before, too, and has been living with her family for the ten years since the massacre. She was one of the few people who knew Antonio and I were alive.I took three bullets during the attack. Two to my torso, One to my head. They'd mistaken me for a soldier or I'm sure I would be dead now. No execution style killing for me. But I did watch from my place on the bloody marble floor that mom loved so much. I remember how cold it felt, even in the July heat. How that small, inconsequential detail stood out.My older brother and father were al
Callahan "Do you know the story of Heathcliff the Betrayer?" she asks, slurring her words.“You're drunk, Portia.”"First, he tricked his brother." There's that finger again, making some drunken point. "Then his father. Do you know it?"“Yes, I know the story. What does that have to do with anything?"“My uncle is a liar. Among other things. He can't help himself. It's in his name. You can't escape your name.”I step closer, narrow my eyes. "Are you always so philosophical when you're drunk?""I'm not drunk.""Besides, there's no such thing as destiny. We have free choice. People choose what they are.""You mean who they are.""I mean what they are."She considers for a moment before standing and coming up to meet me, to push her slender finger into the middle of my chest."Do you know the man you have aligned yourself with, Callahan Scarfoni? Do you have any idea what he is?"One knee gives out and I catch her elbow to steady her. I open my mouth to tell her I know exactly what her
PortiaI wake to a violent pounding in my head. I groan, turn over, burying my face in the pillow, the unfamiliar feel of it — mine is softer.And mine doesn't smell like him. My eyelids fly open and bright sunlight makes my head hurt worse.This is the second day now I'm waking with a headache. This one I did to myself.Whiskey.Too much of it.It takes me a long minute to get up the courage to look behind me. But when I do, I find the bed empty and realize what that sound is. The shower.He did sleep here, I realize. I still see the indentation from his head on the pillow and when I reach to touch it tentatively, it's still warm.I wanted this, right? To be passed out when he touched me? So, I wouldn't remember it.What do I remember? Not much.Lifting the comforter, I peer underneath, surprised to find I'm still wearing his clothes.The tie is gone, and the pants are down around my ankles, but I don't feel anything. I would feel it if he'd touched me. I've had sex before. I know ho
CallahanShe's ruffled me. Gotten under my skin.I'm distracted when I walk out of the room. I fist my hand, relax it. I swear I can still feel the pulse at her throat in my fist. I need to be careful. I need to check my rage. I may need her yet.And I don't want to hurt her."Callahan," Alec calls out. He has to do it a second time before I stop and turn. I didn't even see him outside the door. "Everything okay?"“Everything's splendid. Stay with her. She can spend five minutes with her brother after she eats. Then I want her in that room unless she's in the kitchen with Lenore. She's not to go outside and you're not to leave her side, understand?"He appears momentarily confused and I realize how intense I sound but he schools his features and nods."Good." I look at my bedroom door behind which is my infuriating captive. I give a shake of my head to clear the assault of her words. I'm walking down the stairs but before I've even reached the bottom, I smell it. Burnt sugar.I inhale
Callahan"Here." He hands me a folder out of his briefcase. He's old-school. Leave no electronic trail. Ever. It's probably what's kept him out of prison.I open the folder and the first thing I see is a grainy photo of the man who orchestrated my family's massacre.The younger Fernando Mancini.I flip through the photos, look at the vast, empty land around him. I look at the men in their pickup trucks, the porch of the house he's stepping into. The bigger house I don't recognize.“He's in Mexico?"My uncle nods. “Making an alliance between the Esmeralda Cartel, which he considers himself the head of since he is engaged to Portia — ”"He can consider himself the fucking king of England for all I care. It makes no difference to me. Like I said, he's no longer engaged to Portia. She told me she'd rather kill herself than fuck him."“Well, that'll be news to him then.""Go on. I recognize the Esmeralda house. But what's this one? With whom is he forging this alliance?""Felix Pérez. Heat
PortiaI'm sitting in the kitchen flipping through an old Italian cookbook, my hand absently petting Cerberus when I hear the sound of the chopper. I look at the clock. It's a little after nine at night.Lenore, who has been sitting across from me making a shopping list, gets up and puts the espresso pot on the stove.“He'll want coffee," she says to me.Alec glances out the window. He's been my shadow today and if it wasn't for Lenore telling him I could walk out to the greenhouse to collect fresh vegetables, I'm pretty sure I'd have been locked up inside all day.At least I got to see Nathan. He told me that Alec had brought down the entirety of the cake last night.I wonder if I should go up to my room. Well, his room. Will he really make me kneel to apologize to him? And if so, would he make me do it in front of Lenore? I feel my face burn just thinking about it.But he does deserve an apology. I do know that. What I said, what I accused him of, it wasn't right especially knowing
PortiaWe're lying in bed, Callahan's big arms around me. I'm curled into him, our heads resting on the same pillow.He's playing with a strand of my hair. I touch his unshaved face, liking the stubble."I would be dead if it wasn't for you," he says.I study him, thinking about what I need to tell him.“I didn't want to live afterward. I wanted to die. Even though I knew it would kill Antonio, I just couldn't. But then there you were, and you made me remember things. Made me feel things. Made me care again. Maybe you make me less selfish, Portia."“You've never been selfish, Callahan.”He shrugs a shoulder."I need to tell you something," I start. I take a breath in and lay on my back to stare up at the ceiling. He puts a hand on my belly. Slides it up to cup a breast.“I like this," he says. “I like a little more meat on you.""Well, I'm glad you think so." I sit up, put my pillow on my lap."What is it?" he asks, all serious when he sees my expression. He sits up too and takes the
PortiaHe also told me about Antonio, about him possibly being a product of rape. He's already sent DNA to a lab for a paternity test. We're waiting on the results."Petrov has disappeared. Diamente thinks he'd arranged the explosives to detonate after he left." I'd assumed the explosions were from Callahan's men, a distraction, but this makes much more sense."Why would he have done that?"Callahan shrugs a shoulder."Maybe he knew Felix and his fondness for cameras? Maybe he just hated the assholes present? Who knows? Who cares?""Who is he?""Russian businessman. That's all I've been able to get so far. But I'll find him.""We will find him," says a low, raspy voice from the bed.I gasp, turn my head. Callahan is beside the bed in an instant."Brother!"A doctor and two nurses rush in. They must have been alerted by the machines to Antonio's waking."Well, it's good to see you're awake, Mr. Scarfoni," the doctor says, smiling."I'd have opened my eyes earlier but these two were dec
PortiaI carry two cups of coffee into Antonio's room. Callahan is sitting across from his bed watching him. Maybe willing him to open his eyes. To wake up.Callahan is alive. Battered and bruised, his hearing comes and goes but he's alive. The blast had knocked him out. For a minute, I thought he was gone, really gone this time, but he's back.He looks over at me, stands. I take in the bandages I can see on his arms, his neck, the side of his head and I'm sure he does the same with mine.But it could be worse.I glance at Antonio.“You need to let the doctor look at you again,” I tell him."After." Smears of blood and dirt still stain his clothes and skin. I know most of it isn't his at least.He takes one of the cups of coffee and leads me to a chair. He sits down beside me, and we watch Antonio together.It's been twenty-seven hours since the house blew up.Twenty hours since Antonio came out of surgery.I don't know how many hours or days since David kidnapped me.I look at Callah
PortiaCallahan stands and helps me up."Don't look at him. He doesn't deserve your gaze."Antonio reads something on his phone, and I see the Glock he's holding at his side."Our men are on the grounds, not in the house yet though."I hear gunfire outside the house then, and a moment later, a small explosion.Callahan goes to the window, one arm wrapped around me, as he looks out over the front yard. I see the men out there, the gunfight. I notice the fire at the far end of the house.“We need to move," he tells Antonio, then turns his attention to me. "Is Felix on site?"“I don't know," I say.He nods. "If he is, I'll find him. But I need to get you out first." He holds my hand, and we walk around the bed to where the dead man is lying face down in his own blood. He bends to tug his knife out of the man's side.I notice the new injury on his side then. The bandage over the new set of stitches long gone. I touch it tentatively.“You're hurt."He takes my wrist, shifting his grip to m
PortiaThe chains that bind my wrists to my ankles are removed and my arms are stretched overhead, bound to a metal rung on the headboard. I'm flipped onto my stomach, the cuffs clanging as I'm tugged downward. The link that hobbled me is also removed. My legs are pulled apart, stretched to either corner of the bed and linked to the rungs there.The two men responsible for preparing me, stand back and look down at me. One tugs the pillow out from under my head and shoves it beneath my belly. He nods, meets my eyes and cups his erection."I'll take your ass when it's my turn," he says in Spanish. "Save me a piece."I spit at him.He slaps my ass."Hey," the other soldier interrupts and points to the corner where I see one of those flashing red lights again. The camera is hidden but the soldiers know about it. They must be Felix's men."After."The man glances at the blinking light, nods then returns his attention to me. "If there's anything left."They walk out but don't close the door
Portia"You won't be walking out of here tonight."Did she mean that literally?Because if this is Felix's plan for me, then I'll be fucked by every man out there in turn.I hear the woot of the onlookers once the curtain is fully raised. I can't see much of them and I think that's on purpose. The spotlight follows me even when I turn my head.A man calls out a ridiculous number and makes a lewd comment. Several laugh out loud as the auctioneer chuckles into his microphone, tapping his gavel twice to get everyone's attention.“You haven't even seen it all yet,” he notes in a sing-song voice.Two sets of hands take hold of my arms and force me to turn.When they do, I catch a glimpse of the blinking red light coming from the top corner of the room.Felix is recording this. Is it for me? Well, I should say is it for him?To show those who won't pledge loyalty to him what happens if you are his enemy? Or is it to hold onto after these men leave. Material to blackmail them when it suits h
Callahan"I don't think..." the man starts then stops. "Shit!"I follow his gaze to where another vehicle drives erratically toward us from inside the gates. It's a large SUV and I can only make out the shadows of the two in the front seat. The driver honks his horn angrily."Petrov," the one with the clipboard says."Mother fucker," the other one curses.The driver lays on his horn opening his window and flipping us or the guards or the whole lot of us off as he barrels toward us and even over the music, I can hear him laughing."Fucking asshole," clipboard guy says as he jumps backward.I hit the gas and pull through the gates, only managing to miss the SUV by a hair. In the rearview mirror I see it swerve as if to run over the soldiers."Who the fuck is fucking Petrov?" Antonio asks."He's the asshole that got us in," I say once we're far enough away from the gates that I can't see the soldiers stationed there anymore."Two guards at the front door," Antonio says.I park the car wh
Callahan"Any chance we can get eyes on the estate? Gauge what we're walking into," I ask Diamente as we drive toward the location in Eindhoven. I watch the dark sky, the raindrops only a nuisance on the windshield now. Clouds are rolling angrily in the distance, illuminated by still-silent flashes of light.Dante is coordinating more manpower and Antonio is sitting beside me staring out the window, hands fisted."We can't get closer than the public road leading up to the house. They've got their own drones," Diamente says."Of course, they do."I have him on speaker phone but I'm not sure Antonio's listening."From what I've learned about past auctions, they issue, at most, two dozen invitations. In most cases, the buyer himself doesn't attend. They send someone in their place. None of these men want to be in the same room together if they can help it. None of them want to be seen.""Makes sense. How do they know what they're bidding on?""A brochure would have circulated prior to th
Portia“Which one started the crying fest here?" she asks, eyes on the girls.The guard who is responsible for the guilty one, pushes his charge forward.The woman steps toward her, cocks her head to look at her then touches her face, wiping away a tear. "Look what you've done to your face. Your makeup will have to be fixed, The others too."The girl swallows standing suddenly, very straight. I realize why when I see how the woman with the clipboard is holding her chin, nails digging into skin."But there's always one example to be made," the woman says and gestures to the other woman to step forward. “I'm going to give you a choice. Each of you sobbing will have the same choice to make if you're still crying like babies when I'm finished with this one."The one from the kitchen steps forward and raises her hand to show what she's holding. It's a large wooden paddle that I imagine can do real damage.“We'll need to make sure our customers understand there's a reason you're crying. Six