Dubious Page 3

  “Kris, listen to me. I need you to fetch Charlie. Can he stay with you for a while?”

  “What happened?”

  “Charlie made debt at Napoli’s. I’m with the creditor.”

  “What?” she shrieks. “You’re with a loan shark? Where?”

  “My place. Things have changed. I’m going to work off Charlie’s debt, but he can’t stay alone.” My cheeks grow hot as I add, “It’s a live-in position.”

  “What about your job here?”

  “I’m sorry. I know how much you need me.”

  It’s always hectic at the clinic, and I feel bad for what I have to do. Kris is one of the best vets I know. She gave me a job when nobody else would, and I hate turning my back on her.

  Gabriel checks his watch. “You have three minutes.”

  “I have to go. Will you call me when you’ve got Charlie?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Thank you, Kris.” I glance at Puff’s body, forcing down my tears. “You’ll have to––”

  Gabriel takes the phone from my hand. “Hello, Kris.” He keeps his piercing gaze trained on me. “The door to Valentina’s flat is broken, but don’t worry. I’ll have it replaced.” He cuts the call. “Two minutes. I suppose you’ll pack light.”

  Stress drives me as I shove the few outfits and toiletries I own in our only travel bag. What will become of Charlie? For now, he’s alive. I’m alive. That’s what I need to focus on.

  Gabriel’s cronies help themselves to the cookies cooling on the table. Gabriel says nothing. Only his disturbing stare follows me as I move through the room.

  I’ve barely zipped up my bag before he says, “Let’s go.”

  Adrenalin from the shock makes me strong, strong enough to walk to my brother with confident steps and take his tear-streaked face in my hands.

  I go on tiptoes and kiss his forehead. “Remember what I said about being brave. You can do it.” I want to say I’ll call him, but I don’t want to lie. “Wait for Kris. She’ll be here soon.”

  Gabriel takes my bag and steers me to the door, stopping in the frame to say to the man who shot Puff, “Stay with her brother until the woman arrives and bury the dog. Have the door fixed before you go.”

  The man nods. He’s shorter than Gabriel, but not less muscled.

  I look over my shoulder and take in everything I can––Charlie’s haphazard hair, his soft hazel eyes, and the washed-out Spiderman T-shirt––because I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.

  2

  Gabriel

  The petite brunette stiffens when I take her elbow to steer her down the stairs. Her face is ghastly white, and her whole body trembles, but she walks with a straight back. I have dragged men three times her size kicking and screaming to a tamer fate than the one awaiting her. She has guts, but I already knew that from last night.

  On the pavement, I take her hand to help her down the curb. Her delicate frame grows even more rigid, but she doesn’t resist. Magda turns her head to the car window when we approach. She startles at the sight of the woman I have in the iron grip of my fingers, and then her expression turns stoic. My mother isn’t happy. This isn’t what she ordered. Tough luck. It’s not going to happen the way she wants today, but I’ve got some explaining to do.

  Madga gets out, her eyes shredding me to pieces.

  “Put her in the back,” I say to Quincy, handing Valentina over like a parcel.

  Magda waits until Quincy shuts the door and walks to where we’re out of earshot. “She was supposed to be dead.”

  “I made a deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “Nine years for Charlie’s debt.”

  She blinks. “You’re taking her?”

  I cross my arms. “Yes.”

  “You want to fuck her.”

  I don’t deny it. There’s no point.

  “It’s not that simple, Gabriel.”

  I saw her. I wanted her. I took her. Yeah, it’s that simple.

  “That wasn’t the plan,” Magda insists.

  “The plan changed.”

  She throws her hands up in the air and starts pacing the sidewalk. “The price was death.”

  “Charlie has brain damage.” That’s a tougher price than death. To me, at least. “We shouldn’t have granted him a loan.”

  “Well, we did. Retard or not, showing mercy is showing our enemies we’re getting soft.”

  “Nine years are not exactly mercy.” Not with what I’m planning for Valentina.

  “She has to die.”

  “I never go back on my word. People in our business trust us because I keep my word. Rhett and Quincy heard me make the deal.”

  The charcoal lines around her eyes wrinkle. “What did you promise?”

  “A live-in arrangement.”

  “Arrangement?”

  “I said she could work back the debt.”

  Underneath Magda’s controlled exterior she’s simmering. A vein pops out on her temple. “Fine. You want to play doll? Have your fun, but we’re setting her up to fail. When she does, she’s dead and so is her brother.”

  A sharp pain jolts into my damaged hip. I make a conscious effort to relax my body, muscle by muscle.

  “Come on.” Magda is already on her way back to the car. “I’ll figure it out on the way home.”

  For the first time, I regret never giving a fuck about professional relationship building. I don’t care what people think or about anyone but my daughter, but Magda has always cast the net out wide, catching everyone she can put in her pocket. Her network and influence stretch much further than mine. She carries all the authority in this organization. Sometimes, I have the ugly suspicion the business is the only reason she married my father, so she could take it over. She makes a hell of a tougher loan shark than he ever did, and he was a scary bastard.

  I get into the back with Valentina while Magda sits up front with Quincy.

  “Drive,” she tells my bodyguard.

  Quincy and Magda are quiet, I guess because of the girl. An intense awareness of the woman next to me and my power over her spreads through my body, making me hard.

  Fuck me. I own her.

  She’s mine.

  The thought gives me a head rush. She’s so small she looks like the doll Magda accused me of wanting to play with. Upright, Valentina barely reaches my chest. Her bones are fragile enough to crush under the lightest pressure. If I hug her too tight, her ribs may crack. I can wrap one hand around her slender neck. How hard I choose to close my fingers will be the discerning factor between life and death. Yet, she attacked me when Rhett shot her dog. She gave me an order when she told me to let Charlie Haynes go. She’s strong and loyal.

  I’m both fascinated and jealous of her love for her brother. No one has ever fought for me like that, and I doubt anyone ever will. Throwing any duty I see fit into the package was a test. I wanted to see how far she was willing to go for Charlie, not that her decision would’ve changed anything. I took ownership of her the minute I laid eyes on her. Last night, I already knew I was going to take her. Regardless.

  When the club manager at Napoli’s called to let me know my mother’s target was in, the said target being Charlie, my plan was to go in, take Charlie out, and then his sister, who would’ve been home alone. Making examples of people who don’t pay is standard procedure. Some people don’t fear for themselves, but they always fear for their families. By Magda’s design, Valentina would’ve been the sacrifice to serve as a reminder to our debtors as long as they owe, their families aren’t safe.

  Then I stepped out of the office, and there she was, all tits, ass, and legs. No woman, except for the prostitutes, goes into Napoli’s willingly. A nerve pinches between my shoulder blades when I think of what could’ve happened to her had I not been there. She’s either extremely naïve or stupidly brave. After this morning, I suspect the latter.

  Come to think of it, I don’t get how she survived here this long. According to Jerry, she’s been re
siding in Berea for six years. The shithole she lived in is in drug valley. It’s a surprise the drug and sex lords haven’t kidnapped and sold her or a street gang hasn’t raped and killed her yet. There are infinitely dark things that can happen to an unprotected, beautiful girl in this neighborhood.

  I watch her from the corner of my eye. In the twenty minutes we’ve being driving, she hasn’t said a word. Her brown hair is long and wavy, curling down her shoulders. A clean smell clings to her, like fragrance shampoo or body lotion. I like it. Complex perfumes give me a headache. In the white shorts and yellow tank top, her toned legs and rounded breasts are exposed to me. So is the vein that pulses under the golden skin of her neck. Her fear excites me. Her courage intrigues me. Long, dark lashes shutter the expression in her brown eyes from me. She’s pretending to look through the window, but I know she’s aware of me, and the gun resting in my lap.

  The weapon is cool in my hand. I’m long since past the stage where my palms get sweaty before a job. I don’t mind the killing. I live in a violent city. Only the toughest survive, and I’m a survivor. I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger if anyone threatens or harms my family. Lay a finger on my property, and I’ll break it off. I was the kind of kid who took pleasure in breaking other boys’ toys. I still break. Mostly bones, these days. When it comes to hearts, I only break what’s already broken. That way, I don’t have to take responsibility for anyone’s feelings. Now I’ve taken responsibility for a person on a whole different level. At least there’s no risk of breaking Valentina’s heart. She already hates me, and with what I’m planning for her body, she’ll only hate me more, but she’ll need me with equal intensity. Of that, I’ll make sure.

  Her gaze widens fractionally as we pull up to our property. It’s a double-story mansion on big grounds surrounded by a six feet-wall fitted with electrified barbed wire and twenty-four hour, armed guards. In this city, only people with money are safe. She keeps her face perfectly blank as we clear the gates. The original Frank Emley design dates from the early 1900s and combines various styles with a strong Victorian influence, iron work, stone walls, and art nouveau stained glass windows. It’s smack-bam in the heart of Parktown, in the middle of the homes of the bankers, diamond dealers, politicians, and everyone else who can be bought.

  Quincy parks and opens the door for Magda first, then for me. While I’m stretching my stiff leg, he lets Valentina out and hovers with her purse and travel bag in front of the fountain.

  “I’ll take that.” I grab her possessions and grip her arm to lead her up the porch steps. My fingers overlap the small diameter of her upper arm. This is the point where I expect her to kick in her heels and scream, but she remains eerily calm.

  Magda overtakes us on the stairs. “One wrong move, one wrong word to anyone, and Charlie is dead. Get that?”

  Valentina tilts her head away from my mother, a tremor running through her body.

  Marie, our faithful old cook, opens the door. Her face freezes when her eyes land on the young woman.

  “Prepare the maid’s room,” Magda says. “I’ll brief you later.” She enters ahead of us. “Gabriel, bring the girl to my study.”

  Before I can argue, Magda is gone. Marie’s gaze remains fixed on the woman at my side. May as well get the introduction over with.

  “This is Valentina,” I say. “She’s property.”

  Marie nods as if I bring property home every day, but she understands. She’s been around the block. She scurries away without offering me my usual drink.

  I steer Valentina to my mother’s study and close the door. Whatever Magda is cooking up, I already don’t like it. The sight of my mother’s personal bodyguard, Scott, standing behind her chair with a pistol clutched in his hand makes me rest my hand on my own weapon tucked into my waistband. The threat is clear. Defy Magda and Valentina will end up like her dog––with a bullet between her soft, mud-brown eyes.

  Magda addresses my tiny charge. “I understand you’ll be working for us.” She points at the chair facing her desk. “Sit.”

  I let Valentina go. She obeys, balancing on the edge of the seat. Mirroring Scott’s stance, I remain standing, just in case.

  “What are your skills?” Magda asks.

  Valentina’s lashes flutter as she lifts her eyes to me. They’re big for her small face and hauntingly sad, but proud, also.

  “Answer when you’re being spoken to,” Magda says in the headmistress voice she reserved for chastising me as a kid.

  “I’m an assistant.”

  Magda’s mouth pulls down. “That’s it?”

  “I also cook and clean for my neighbor.”

  Magda taps her fingernails on the desktop. After some time, she says, “You’ll work for us as a maid and whatever else Gabriel expects from you.” My mother gives me an acidic look, as if the sight of me gives her indigestion. “You’ll work Monday to Friday until dinner’s been served and the kitchen is clean. On Saturday, you’re off from five in the afternoon. You’re expected back by eight on Monday morning. If we have events at home, we expect you to work, regardless of afterhours.”

  The maid idea pisses me off, but the leisure time unleashes a rage in me, not that I have any ground to stand on. It’s Magda’s business and her debt to collect. I’m only the dealmaker. My new toy better not try to escape. I bet that’s what Magda is bargaining on. It’ll give her the reason she wants to eliminate Valentina and terminate my idiotic deal, as she put it.

  “You’ll keep the house tidy,” Magda continues, “and with tidy I mean spotless. Everything on the inside of the building is your responsibility, except for the cooking. Marie takes care of that. If I need you to cook, I’ll tell you. If you poison any one of us, you and your brother will die slow and painful deaths. Understand?”

  Her throat moves as she swallows. “Yes.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Louw or ma’am.”

  Those dark eyes flash with defiance, but she averts them quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “If you fail in any of your tasks, the deal’s off, and you’re dead.” A sardonic light sparks in Magda’s eyes. “Work well for…” She looks at me and waits.

  “Nine years,” I fill in.

  “Work well for nine years,” Magda continues, “and Charlie’s debt will be paid off. We won’t pay you a salary. The money we would’ve given you will go toward the settlement of your debt. I don’t allow servants to eat from our table, but you may use the kitchen facilities to prepare your meals. Since you won’t earn cash, my son will pay you an allowance for food and personal commodities. Any questions?”

  “Is there a routine I need to follow? What do I do, exactly?”

  Magda gets to her feet. “You’ll figure it out. You start immediately.”

  Valentina follows Magda’s lead, getting up from her chair with consternation on her face.

  Before she goes, there’s one thing she needs to understand. I grab her face in one hand, digging my fingers into her cheeks. “Run from me and you’ll wish I shot you today.”

  Her body is close to mine, and I can smell her scent. I fill the olfactory gap I couldn’t place in the car. Raspberry. She looks like a dove with her wings tied, but she doesn’t falter under my stare.

  “Are we clear?” I ask softly. I never raise my voice. I don’t have to.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I let her go.

  Her hand goes to her jaw, touching the imprint of my fingers.

  “Marie will show you to your room,” Magda says. “You’ll find her in the kitchen.”

  I hand Valentina her travel bag, but hold onto the purse and remain standing since I haven’t been dismissed.

  The minute Valentina is gone, I say, “She doesn’t know the way.”

  Magda goes to the wet bar and pours a tot of Vodka, which she dilutes with orange juice. “Letting her find her own way is her first test.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The hidden cameras will record any traitorous acts she may conceive in her simpleto
n mind, and you’ll use it to your advantage to break her.” Magda takes a sip of her drink and walks back to her desk to pick up the internal phone that connects to the kitchen.

  Marie answers on the first ring with a professional, “Mrs. Louw?” that comes over the speaker.

  “Order maid uniforms for Valentina and linen for her room.”

  “Any preference, ma’am?”

  “Black.”

  “The uniform or the linen?”

  “The uniform. Make the linen…” she thinks for all of one second, giving me an over-easy smile, “…white.” She hangs up and continues, “Black and white. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? It’ll remind her of what she became––our servant and your plaything.”

  “She won’t run,” I say, a challenge in my voice. I just found Valentina. I’m not about to kill her on Sunday.

  Magda smirks, swirling her glass. “That’s not why I gave her Sundays off.”

  “Why did you?”

  “To give her the illusion of freedom. Of fairness. For now, I’ll let her believe she has a chance. People without hope can’t be broken.” My mother lifts the glass to her lips. “You see? I’m giving us both what we want. You get to break her, and I get to kill her.”

  Hatred laces Magda’s words. The fact that I want this woman enough to defy my mother elicits Magda’s scorn. I have no doubt she’ll make Valentina pay for causing me to stray from the not so straight and narrow path cut out for me.

  At my silence, Magda says, “You understand we can’t let her meet her end of the bargain? That’ll be weak.”

  “I promised her nine years.”

  “I have no intention of letting her live that long.” Her smile grows until it invades all of her face. “She’s bound to screw up sooner than later.”

  A sudden insight startles me. Magda is happy with the turn of events. She wants Valentina to suffer, and she’s relying on my natural disposition to make it happen.

  * * *

  Valentina

  My throat aches from pent-up tears as I leave Mrs. Louw’s study. If I had any hope that Gabriel’s mother would have compassion and help me, it’s been eradicated in that room. She’s worse than her son, her blackness far colder.