Page 80 of Shadow Man
Even so, the women are eerily calm in their acceptance…and that’s when it hits me. There’s no way in hell they’re going to point those guns at each other and pull the triggers. Fernandez has underestimated them as his peril.Their bond is too fucking strong for that.
“Dante,” I mutter, and the Kalashnikov screws deeper into my back. I see the slight nod of his head, and I know he’s read the play too.
“Pick up the guns,putas,” orders Fernandez. As an extra incentive he picks up his own and points it in our direction, swinging the muzzle between us as if he’s a ticking kill clock. “The longer you leave it, the quicker these men will die.”
Anna and Viviana do as he says. MyLunaisn’t looking at me anymore. She’s staring straight at her friend.
“Three…” Fernandez’s voice rises in excitement.
“Two…” Both girls take aim; their fingers steady on the triggers. If Fernandez was expecting a beg-fest, they’re denying him the thrill.
“One!”
It’s fucking poetry how both Berettas turn in his direction at the same time. It’s sexy as hell when both bullets eviscerate Fernandez’s face together. A beat later, I’m jabbing my elbow into the jaw of the man behind me, and seizing his machine gun. One glance reassures me that Dante has done the same, and then I see him reach for his watch.
“Get under the fucking table!” I roar at Anna as bullets explode all around us. She and Viviana dive for cover, ripping at the material around their faces as the final act plays out.
The bombs our team laid at the front entrance to the house detonate like raucous applause. The riad collapses like a house of cards; the men from the balconies tumbling to the ground with screams and falling masonry.
“Time to move.” I grab Anna’s hand and drag her toward the remains of the front entrance, as our team moves in past us to secure the area.
A fleet of black SUVs are waiting for us outside. I throw the girls into one and jump in after. Dante takes the passenger seat. We're hitting the highway in a matter of minutes.
“Nice shooting, darlin’,” I drawl tucking Anna into my side, relief filtering into my lungs when I feel her soft warmth burrowing into me.
“I figured that’s what bad girls should do,” she says grinning up at me. “Aim for the head and never hesitate, just like you told me.”
I glance across at Viviana. “You did well.”
She nods, throwing a worried look in Dante’s direction. “Have I made up for shooting you yet?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” I pull Anna onto my knee and reacquaint myself with orange blossom and vanilla.
“Well, it’s stopped me wanting to rip your fucking throat out,” growls Dante from the front suddenly. He turns and regards his niece with a coolness bordering on cold, hard respect. “Grayson’s right. You did well in there. I still don't trust you or the polluted blood in your veins, but there’s a part of you that fell on the right side of the family tree tonight.”
A silent acknowledgment passes between them, but I’m more interested in the soft fingers curling around my neck. I watch as Anna slides my chain out from underneath my black shirt and stares at the two golden rings that keep catching in the moonlight.
“I remembered.” She snags my gaze and holds it. “I finally remembered the promise you made to me that night.” I watch as her smile fights through the pain as her worst memory collides with something better.Much better. Something that has been my whole universe since I freed her from a cage. “I see you, Joseph Grayson,” she says softly, closing her fist tight around them. “I see you, and I want you… And I’m here to claim you right back.”
32
Anna
Six Months Ago
My cage is a prism reflecting light. For the girl who’s trapped inside, it’s dull, dirty and squalid. But beyond my bars it’s a rainbow of color. I’m in a room; an elegant room with exposed brickwork and crystal chandeliers. Bi-fold doors are spanning the length of one wall, offering up the space to an unfamiliar skyline. It looks European, but no one tells me anything anymore. Elegant people circulate around the elegant room. It’s all so goddamn elegant.
Except for us.
I’m in one of seven metal cages suspended from the ceiling. They’re big enough to hold us if we cower on bended knees, but that’s how they prefer us anyway. Smashed-up souls mean easy-to-manipulate bodies.
I can't remember the last time I wore clothes. They were torn from me days ago, and I stink of abuse and neglect. I wish I felt shame, but I don't feel much of anything anymore. My face tilts forward, defeated; my hair is plastered to my shoulders with dirt and dejection; my eyes are unseeing to the night unfolding all around me. I’m trying hard to cover my naked chest, but my arm keeps slipping.
All the caged girls are in the same pathetic state. I don’t know their names, but we’re all united in our horror and humiliation.
Sexual abuse triggers the worst kind of memories.
I can't remember happiness.