Valor: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 2

  And his voice.

  That controlled, deep tenor that made my insides melt and my skin electrify. His gun had been pointed at me. Me. I had been seconds away from being killed.

  Enough!

  I threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. Sitting around thinking about what could have happened was only going to keep me scared. The idea behind going out the night before had been to get out of my safe zone, to stop being so scared of meeting people.

  I eyed the book on my nightstand. Climbing Out of Your Shell. Stupid book. I should have stayed in my shell. Safely tucked away in my apartment where men like Dustan didn’t live.

  I needed to pee and shower. Then I needed to get my ass to the store and buy a new phone. Thankfully, I’d been smart enough to tuck my wallet away in the inside pocket of my skirt. Other than a few bills and my phone, I hadn’t lost anything when I left my purse behind. At least he didn’t have my address.

  Music filled the bathroom while I showered. I lost myself beneath the warm stream of the water, or at least tried to. I still felt shaky when I thought about running through that bar and hailing a cab. I had kept looking over my shoulder, expecting him to step out of the bar with that gun aimed at me again. The poor cab driver must have thought I was a real nutcase, the way I’d thrown myself into the back of his car and shouted at him to drive.

  I needed a distraction. I couldn’t keep reliving the event. I’d go mad. It was done with. I saw what I saw, and I was not going to tell anyone. I knew enough to keep silent. There would be no calls to the police or statements given. As far as I knew, nothing had happened in that alley. There was no man named Dustan, and he definitely didn’t shoot anyone.

  I tuned off the radio and made my way back to my bedroom with a towel snugly wrapped around my body. Even alone in my apartment, I couldn’t stride around naked. I really needed more help than any self-help book could provide.

  The blinds were closed when I stepped back into my bedroom. I paused in the doorway, not remembering having closed them. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself the doors were locked, and I was fine. No one was in the apartment.

  Growing up in a small town in Minnesota hadn’t prepared me for life in Chicago, but I needed to get over my skittish nature. This was my chance to make something of myself. My one shot at getting out of a farm town and being something more.

  I grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater from my dresser drawers and tossed them on the bed. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I opened my panty drawer. I wasn’t alone, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew it.

  Slowly, I looked up at myself in the mirror hanging over my dresser.

  Dustan.

  I gasped, strangled myself with air was really how it felt, but the result was the same. His lips, the ones I had found so appealing the night before, curled up at the edges. It wasn’t a pleased smile or even a grin. My fear fed him.

  “Morning, darlin’.” He stood behind me, looking at my mirrored image. How had he moved so silently?

  My lip trembled while my mind screamed to every part of my body to move, to run, get away from him. Yet, there I stood. Frozen with a pair of purple cotton briefs in my hand.

  “Not happy to see me?” He tilted his head to the right.

  “I—I uh, how did you find me?”

  He lifted my cell phone so I could see it then reached around my body, making sure to brush his muscular arm against mine, and dropped it on the dresser. I stared at it as though it were going to stand up and bite my nose off.

  “Technology is amazing,” he said. “Would have had more trouble finding you with your driver’s license than your phone.” He was lying. He had to be. That couldn’t be true.

  “Why, why are you here?” I asked, still fisting my underwear and watching his face in the mirror. Defined features. His chin and nose had sharp angles, but that wasn’t what made him look so damn fierce. His eyes did that. The way the deep brown of them warmed as he stared at me. Not the chocolate—chip melty sort of warm, but the confident, arrogant sort of heat.

  “Well, we didn’t get to finish our conversation last night.” He stepped back from me. I turned around to face him, not liking him at my back. He walked over to the bed and hopped on, crossing his ankles and leaning against my headboard.

  “I got the sense you were busy.” I tried to smile, to take the moment as casually as he was doing, but I couldn’t get my lips to turn up. They were too busy trying not to open wide and vomit all over his shoes. And although he would deserve it for breaking into my apartment and scaring me, he probably wouldn’t take it with any sort of grace.

  “Hmm, yeah, that’s what we need to talk about.” He rested his hands in his lap, and that’s when I noticed he had his gun with him. In his lap. My stomach rolled up and down and then took a nosedive just to add something special to the panic building inside me.

  “I don’t think we do. I don’t think there’s anything to talk about at all. I think we can just go our separate ways, like we never met. Because, really, we didn’t. Not truly,” I rambled. Some people fainted when they reached the level of fear bubbling through my veins, but I apparently threw up words.

  “Oh, but we did meet, Cherise,” he said using my full name. My real name. Cherry had been another stupid idea from the book. Pick something fun, something that says you’re a laid-back person. I wanted a refund on that book.

  My mouth dried when he moved his gun to his left hand and reached over to the side table, picking up the book. Fear wasn’t enough, humiliation needed to attend the party as well. I must have looked at it, given myself away. Further proof, I was not cut out for this situation.

  “Climbing out of your shell?” He huffed a little laugh and opened the book, flipping through the pages. “Is this what brought you to the bar last night?” he asked, holding the book open with his hand spread out over the spine and turned it at me. He’d flipped right to the chapter I’d read last. The one that gave me the foolish idea that I could actually take a step in becoming more outgoing.

  “I—” Flames could have burst from my cheeks at that moment. “Yes. Look. I really don’t want any trouble. I don’t—I didn’t see or hear anything. I just stepped outside for a breath of air, and I went right back in.”

  “You left your purse behind.” He slammed the book shut. The loud clap made me jump. I grabbed the towel tighter.

  “It’s just a purse.” I shrugged. “No big deal.”

  He scooted farther down the bed until he sat at the very end. “Come here, darlin’,” he said with a crook of his finger.

  I couldn’t. If I did, he’d grab me. I needed to get away from him.

  “Why?” I asked, taking a small step closer to the door.

  “’Cause, I said. And it’s really better for you to do what I say.” His eyes narrowed, and tension built up in his jaw. He hadn’t shaved yet. The dark stubble made his already stony face even colder.

  “I doubt that.” I laughed then dragged in a breath. Laughing at him wouldn’t help. He didn’t seem the sort to appreciate a joke at a time like this.

  “You’re gonna have to trust me on this. Come here.” He beckoned me again.

  His other hand still held the gun on his leg. Why couldn’t he just do it already? He hadn’t made the man wait last night. He’d just stepped out and done it. Why was he putting me through the terror first?

  I took the three steps toward him; my knees brushed his. His lips spread upward, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth.

  “That’s a good girl. Let’s keep that up, okay?” He slid his finger into the top of my towel. I started to jerk back, but he froze, shooting a glare up at me and making me stop. I pulled in a deep breath through my nose and raised my chin. My insides may be having a conga party, but he didn’t get to see it.

  His finger snaked between the towel and my skin, between my breasts. I clamped my jaws tight. He slithered to my left breast, where my towel was tucked securely. The end of th
e cloth pulled free with a small tug, and my hand smacked over his, holding the fabric in place.

  “That’s not being a good girl, is it?” he asked, his tone getting darker, softer. “Move your hand, Cherise.” The order came hard, but he hadn’t raised his voice. I got the feeling he never yelled, he didn’t need to, not with those impenetrable eyes of his.

  “What are you going to do to me?” I asked, hating the little tremor I heard.

  “Depends on you.” His answer didn’t really give any information. Did that mean if I was good, did what he said, he wouldn’t hurt me? Or did it mean if I didn’t struggle, he’d hurt me less?

  “Hands down, Cherise.” His chin rose a fraction, and I dropped my hand.

  “Good girl,” he said again. The two words rolled off his tongue smooth and sweet. The sound of his approval settled the raw edges of my nerves.

  He opened the towel and pulled it from my body, dropping it to the floor at my feet, my every tendon cramped up with his eyes on me. He wasn’t looking at my face anymore. Not when my breasts bobbed right in front of his eyes.

  I must have made a little sound because he shot another glance up at me. “Does this scare you?” he asked, lightly tracing my hip with his fingers. “Being naked?”

  “I already told you I won’t say anything.” I kept my gaze away from him. I stared at the wall, focused on a small spot just over his shoulder.

  “I asked you a question, Cherise. Does being nude in front of me scare you?” His fingers stilled on my hip. Heat lingered where he’d touched and burned into my skin where he continued to remain connected to me.

  “No,” I lied, glad that I managed to keep some of the fear from my voice.

  “Liar.” He chuckled. I guess not enough of the tremor had been removed. His touch moved up my body to my breasts, and he ran his fingers beneath them, lightly touching but sending waves of electricity through my body.

  My phone buzzed on the dresser, dancing along the top. I turned to grab it, but his fingers dug into my side, pinning me where I stood.

  “Leave it,” he ground out, lifting his gun from his lap.

  “It’s probably work. I’m on call this morning,” I said quickly. Working as a medical receptionist at the emergency care clinic down the block wasn’t exactly my life ambition, but it paid my rent and put food in the fridge.

  The phone started dancing again as another text came through. Then another.

  “If I don’t respond, they’ll worry,” I lied again. If I didn’t answer in five minutes, they went to the next on the call list. I’d lose the extra shift, but no one would come looking for me.

  “Pick it up,” he said. “Show it to me.”

  I twisted, grimacing at the pain his grip caused my side, and grabbed the phone. I swiped it open and read the message.

  My stomach dropped again, and he was no longer the scariest thing in my life at that moment.

  “What is it?” he asked, taking the phone from me. He read through the messages, Claire, the closest thing I had to a friend, sent.

  What the fuck happened?

  Cherise! Why are the police looking for you!?

  Cherise!

  Answer me!

  Several more messages rang through. The cops were at the clinic asking after me. Had my picture and wanted my name and address.

  “Shit.” Dustan dropped my phone and grabbed my arm.

  He pulled me into the living room and flicked on my television set, finding the news channel.

  There I was.

  Security footage of me running down the back hallway and through the bar. It had to be after I’d come back inside from the alley. After I’d seen Dustan.

  “Police are looking for this woman,” the anchorwoman said, pausing to show a freeze frame of my face. Not the best likeness, but I had been running for my life at the time. “They believe she has information in regard to an investigation for a missing person’s report.” She went on to discuss Antonio Merde’s mysterious disappearance.

  “They didn’t find his body?” I asked.

  “That’s your big question?” He flicked the television off. “We have to go.”

  “What? No.” I shook my head and started to yank free of him. “I told you, I won’t say a word.”

  “Get some clothes on.” He pushed me back to my bedroom. Every time I paused, he shoved me again.

  “I’m not going with you,” I vowed. He might have been more convinced if I hadn’t been shoving my legs into my jeans.

  “Hurry up,” he said and plucked his phone from his back pocket. I realized then he hadn’t changed from the night before. He still wore his dress slacks and his shirt and tie—he’d left his jacket off though.

  “I’m—”

  He stepped up to me, grabbing my hair into a thick fist and yanking it back. He leveled his glare on me. His breath was hot and heavy across my face as he let the thick silence between us seep into my mind.

  “You are going to be a good girl and do everything I say. If you don’t, you’re going to have some problems. And you have enough of those right now as it is.” He scooped up the sweater from my bed. Shoving it at me, he let go of my hair.

  I stumbled back a few steps. When he looked ready to pounce again, I jabbed my hands through the sleeves and yanked the sweater over my head. He went to my closet and threw a pair of running shoes at me.

  “Hurry up,” he snapped again, with less patience, and stalked out of the bedroom to the front of the apartment again. I eyed the window; I could make a run down the fire escape. Maybe I would get down before he got to me.

  “Cherise, put the fucking shoes on,” he demanded when he came back into the room and found me daydreaming about escape.

  I threw on socks and shoes, messing up the ties twice before finally getting them secured. Even little tasks were harder with his hot glare on me.

  Several thuds on the front door made me freeze. I looked at the hallway. If the cops had just been at my work looking for me, they’d definitely be here by now. I chanced a glance at Dustan. His jaw tightened; his face unreadable. He was either bored or pissed beyond what I could recognize, but either way, he wasn’t happy. And the man with the gun should always be happy.

  “Fire escape.” He blew past me and tugged on the window. “Let’s go,” he said, waving me forward.

  I looked back at the door. The police weren’t a bad option for me.

  “You go,” I said, folding my hands over stomach. More banging on the front door.

  “Cherise, come here now.” He lifted the gun. I closed my eyes and shook my head. He’d be taking a huge risk shooting me with the police in my hallway.

  A heavy sigh. “Fine. Hard way it is, darlin’.” I opened eyes just as his fist came flying at me. Stars burst in my vision, and then there was just black.

  Dustan

  “What’s up?” Bobby picked up my call with his typical nonchalant attitude. Being hidden well behind the scenes gave him a higher level of comfort.

  “Not much.” I gripped my cell harder to my ear. “Just Antonio Merde’s all over the news broadcast this fucking morning.” I didn’t keep the bite out of my tone. Bobby should have warned me. That’s not information I should have found out on the damn TV.

  “Yeah. Saw that.” He breathed out. Sometimes, his cavalier attitude seeped beneath my skin.

  My package kicked the trunk lid. Bobby needed to talk faster.

  I turned my car down another street, getting us as far away from downtown as possible. If the cops were looking for her, they might soon be looking for me.

  “You want to expand on that?” I looked in my rearview to be sure no one followed. We were on the edge of the city, but that didn’t mean we weren’t seen. Climbing down a fire escape with an unconscious woman draped over my shoulder, might not have gone completely unnoticed.

  Cherise pounded on the trunk some more with her feet. I should have taken those damn shoes off her once I had her in the trunk. She was yelling, too, but thanks to the
gag I’d been smart enough to use, I couldn’t understand her.

  “I don’t know, man. You are completely wiped from those tapes. There’s no sign of you leaving or coming back in or even in the fucking bar itself. They aren’t looking for you—they want some girl.”

  “Yeah, what about her? Why do they want her?” I asked.

  “Not sure yet.” I heard his quick fingers flying over a keyboard on his end of the phone. “You find her yet?”

  “I have her.” I ground my teeth when another round of banging started.

  “Okay, then. Problem solved.” The key clicking stopped.

  “No, Bobby, problem not solved. I need to know why the fuck they want her. What does she have to do with Antonio Merde?” I knew what Bobby was thinking: kill the girl, tie up the loose ends, and there wouldn’t be an issue. And he was right. Killing Cherise would solve the problem at hand.

  But it was the unforeseen issues I worried about. Someone wanted her brought in; someone thought she had something to do with Antonio, and I needed to know who that someone was.

  “Dustan, you had your orders; you carried them out. Leave the rest be,” Bobby said.

  In truth, he was right. Arthur had sent my assignment, and I’d carried it out. Antonio wouldn’t be found, not in my lifetime, anyway. Nothing would trace back to Arthur or his organization. I was in the clear. Walking away now made sense.

  “Get me more information, Bobby. I want to know who is behind tracking her down and why.”

  An annoyed sigh rang through the phone. He didn’t approve, but I didn’t pay him to approve of my decisions. I paid for results.

  “Will do. Gonna take some time. Give me a few hours.” The key strokes started up again. “What are you going to do with her?”

  Now, there was a good question.

  “I have a place. Just get the information for me.” I hung up before he could make any more attempts to get my head on straight.

  After tossing my cell into the console, I turned the radio on, flipping the volume higher than comfortable. She could kick and give muffled screams all she wanted, but I didn’t need to listen to it.