Damaged for Him Page 11

  I narrowed my eyes, though Bianca had been the least of my worries over the past twenty-four hours. “What else has she been saying?”

  “Just that, but I guess something set it off.”

  “She can’t take rejection, that’s all.”

  She lifted both eyebrows. “And I’m going to assume you rejected her because of Catalina.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Catalina is gone, Angelo,” she said, exhaling through her nose.

  I hardened my tone. “She’s not dead.”

  “She might as well be to you. If you try to get her back, you could get both of you killed.”

  Anger roiled through me. “Maybe that would be better than what she’s currently going through.”

  “No.” Her voice was stern. “You’re not Romeo and Juliet. Some kind of life is always better than no life at all.”

  “What about you, Yolanda?” I said, turning the topic around. “Wouldn’t you like a different kind of life? One where you could choose who had access to your body? What about the other women? Shouldn’t there be something better out there for them, too? I’ve stood by all these years and gone along with what my father wanted, believing that this was just how things were done, but that’s changed now. All the other women—Marie, and Carla, and even Bianca, and that poor girl who was shot trying to escape the other week...” I searched my memory for her name. “Dani. They all must have had people who loved them at some point. They must have had people like me who tortured themselves imagining what might be happening to them. Wouldn’t you all like to be free?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “There’s no point in wishing for something that isn’t going to happen, Angelo. You need to stop thinking like this. You’re only going to get yourself, and maybe us, too, in trouble.”

  “So, you’ve just given up on Catalina?”

  “Stop it, Angelo. Stop it right now.” Tears shone in her dark eyes, her chin trembling. “Catalina was like a daughter to me. I loved her more than anyone. But I’m also realistic. This is just how life goes for women like us.”

  But nothing she said would change my mind. I wouldn’t be able to live the rest of my life knowing that Catalina was with Torres, and that I’d done nothing to try to help her. I only hoped this was what Catalina wanted, too. My biggest fear was finding her again, only for her to turn around and tell me that she was happy with him and she wanted to stay.

  One of my father’s men stepped out into the courtyard. It was Bruno. Yolanda saw him, too, and gave me a faint nod before stepping back into the shadows. I didn’t want to get her in trouble either.

  “What are you doing out here, Angelo?” Bruno said, his voice snide.

  He liked that he had the upper hand now. It hadn’t been that way since I’d become a man. Bruno was a bully, no doubt about it, and while he’d enjoyed pushing me around when I’d been a kid, he had also been aware that I was the master’s son.

  “Just finishing up a day’s hard work. I wouldn’t expect you to know what that feels like.”

  He snorted. “Like you can talk. You’ve been coasting on your father’s coattails your whole life.”

  “You’re right, I have. But not anymore.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Now was not a time to start a fight with Bruno, even though I wanted to. I remembered how he’d shot the young girl who’d tried to escape from here, even though I’d instructed him not to. The man was a piece of shit—perhaps even more so than my father and Torres.

  But right now, I needed to keep my head down. Though it killed me to let him think he was better than me, I didn’t want him to tell Silas that I looked like I was thinking about causing trouble again. My father had only just let me out of the room and eased off the watch over me. I couldn’t give him a reason to keep me confined to my room again—or worse, decide I’d had something to do with Paul’s disappearance and search my room. If that happened, he was bound to find the stolen papers, money, and gun. I didn’t know what would happen to me after that, but I doubted I’d be walking out of here alive.

  “Just that I’m willing to get my hands dirty now.” I gestured at the tools I’d been using to clean up the yard—the rake and broom and bucket. “It’s good to get a day’s hard work done. Helps a man sleep better at night.”

  “I sleep just fine, thanks.” Bruno smirked.

  “Never said you didn’t.”

  I gathered up the tools. “Anyway, I’m done for the day. I need to put this stuff away.”

  “Fine. Get on with it, then.”

  I gritted my teeth hard enough to hurt my jaw and carried the items toward the large store shed that had been standing around the side of the house since I’d been a child. Its roof was sagging now, the windows cracked, a few of the boards split, but it was still in one piece, and no move had ever been made to replace it. I felt Bruno watching me walk away and resisted the urge to spin around and slam the head of the rake into his smug face.

  I opened the door of the shed and stepped inside, the familiar stale scents of dried grass and mildew, together with something sharper, assaulting my nostrils. A memory flooded over me, that of me as a boy trying to get the wood burner lit in the house. I’d been unable to get it going and decided to use some gas to get things started. Things hadn’t gone well for me that day, but the memory had put an idea in my head. I needed to create a distraction so I could get the hell out of here, and it felt like this could work.

  Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being watched and that Bruno had crawled back under whatever rock he’d appeared from, I picked up the gas cannister. It was bigger than I would have liked, and heavy, but I was going to need the whole thing to get the job done. If someone saw me with it, they were bound to ask questions. I needed to get it back into the house and hide it with the rest of the stuff.

  I bit my lower lip, hesitating. What possible reason could I give for carrying a canister of gas through the house? It wasn’t cold enough yet to need a fire, and even if it was, I wasn’t twelve anymore, and lighting the fire wasn’t exactly one of my chores. But that was the only excuse I could think of, and I doubted it would wash. I had no choice but to just get on with it. The end result would be worth the risk.

  Holding the cannister close to my body, I backed out of the shed. I shielded it with my arms as best I could, and put my head down and headed back toward the house. I felt like I’d been living on a constant flow of adrenaline for days now, and I was wired and exhausted from it, but I couldn’t stop now. I was finally seeing the end in sight. I knew where Catalina was—or at least I hoped that was where she was—and I had a means of escape. The possibility of me pulling this off was mounting. I didn’t even want to let myself think about what would happen when I reached the place Torres was keeping Catalina. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I couldn’t just march in there and demand to have her back. Torres would shoot me before he allowed such a thing to happen.

  I couldn’t worry about that now.

  Keeping my head down, I marched toward the house. Movement came from somewhere to the right, and I turned my head to catch a glimpse of Rufus slowly ambling around the perimeter of the compound. I braced myself for the shout to demand to know what I was doing, but none came.

  Hurrying through the house, I quickly reached my room. I pushed inside and quietly shut the door behind me. I crossed straight over to the bed and ducked to slide the cannister under the bed to join the rest of the items. My heart was hammering. I sat on the bed and covered my face with my hands.

  I’d put my plans into action that night. But first, I needed to sleep. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep the previous night, and if this was going to work, I needed to be able to react fast.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kimmie felt like she had one over on me.

  I’d been forced to stay and watch while Torres delivered her “punishment” for attacking me, and once that was gone, we were both brought back down to the room.
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  I felt sickened by what I’d seen. Torres had been turned on by me watching him with Kimmie, and Kimmie had been pleased that it had been her he’d been having sex with and not me.

  This was all so messed up, and I didn’t know where he was going to take things from here. All I knew was that it was bound to get worse.

  My throat still hurt from where she’d choked me, and I hated having to be in the same room as her. I didn’t trust her at all, especially since she saw Torres’s punishment of her as a good thing. Would it only encourage her to try something like that again in the hope he’d take her back upstairs and deliver the same punishment again and again? How far would she take it? Would she eventually kill me?

  And if I dared to fight back, would Torres take the same punishment out on me?

  We’d come back to the room, and Kimmie had vanished straight into the bathroom to wash. At least when she was in there, I was able to breathe again.

  “You okay?” Deanna asked me, keeping her voice down so Kimmie didn’t hear.

  I didn’t even want to talk about it, my cheeks flooding with heat. Why did I find this all so shameful? It wasn’t as though I’d done anything to instigate any of these situations, and yet still I felt responsible.

  “I’m fine,” I said, curling up on my bed, facing the wall.

  I sensed more than saw the worried glance Grace and Deanna exchanged. But we were all caught up in this depraved web Torres had created, and none of us could do or say anything to make things better.

  A couple of hours passed. Kimmie had finished in the bathroom and was clearly in a far better mood than the rest of us, softly humming a tune and spending ages brushing out her long, red hair. I did my best to ignore her, staying on my bed and avoiding eye contact at all costs. She’d manipulated me to get what she wanted, and I didn’t know where she’d stop.

  Hollow footsteps approached down the corridor outside of our room, and then the door opened once more. It wasn’t Bartow this time, to my relief, but the slightly older guy, Coyle, who’d returned me to my room that day after breakfast.

  “Come on,” he said, jerking his chin. “Exercise time.”

  I knew what that meant this time. We were going back to the pool.

  Dutifully, we all climbed off our beds and lined up. I was ahead of Kimmie, but I felt Deanna’s hands on my shoulders, and she pulled me back, maneuvering me so I was between her and Grace. I clearly wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure where Kimmie would stop.

  Coyle led us up to the ground floor of the house, and then through the back into the glass domed swimming pool. The same scent of chlorine filled my nostrils, and my heart tripped with fear. But I stared up at the beautiful blue sky beyond the glass and forced myself to calm my breathing and slow my heartrate. Angelo was somewhere beneath this same blue sky. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, we were still existing in the same world, still sleeping under the same stars at night, still breathing the same air. It was him I needed to be strong for, and I’d overcome my fears.

  This time, I didn’t hesitate, even though I felt sick with anxiety. I stripped off my clothes, leaving them in a puddle on the tiled floor, and stepped down into the shallow end of the water. Cool water enclosed around my ankles, and then shins, and then thighs. Deeper and deeper. I bunched my arms tight against my naked chest, my body a rigid ball of fear. The deep end of the pool stretched ahead of me, fear contracting my lungs and making my breathing fast and shallow. I had the crazy idea that some kind of wave or current was going to swipe my feet out from under me and drag me down to the deep end where I’d fight to stay afloat once more.

  Around me, the other women also got into the pool. I caught a glimpse of Kimmie’s ass as she dipped beneath the water, her skin still red and glowing. It was easy to make out the lines where the ruler had struck. Her features tightened in a wince of pain as the cold water touched her skin.

  I did my best to stay far away from Kimmie, not trusting that she wouldn’t use this as an opportunity to try to hurt me again. It would be easy for her to drag me beneath the surface and hold me there. I liked to think that Coyle would notice and do something, or at least that Deanna would stop her, but I couldn’t have Deanna fighting all my battles. What would I do if something happened to the other woman and I no longer had her to fight on my side? I needed to learn to be strong within myself.

  To my relief, Kimmie ignored me. Perhaps she felt like one spanking had been enough for one day. I couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to be struck on what already looked like red raw skin. I stayed down at the shallow end, walking through the water rather than swimming, moving my arms in a similar frog-like motion to the others, but not daring to lift my feet off the swimming pool floor.

  Coyle walked up and down the side, watching us in the water. I imagined it wouldn’t be such a bad view—all the naked female bodies cutting through the water. A lean, nude back, and a bare bottom, or the glimpse of a breast or flash of pussy when one of the girls turned to swim on their backs. I wondered if Torres’s men argued between them about who got to do this particular job.

  When our hour was up, we climbed back out, and were handed towels to wrap around ourselves.

  “Ah, ladies,” Torres said, walking down the hallway to meet us, sounding as though he’d caught us by surprise. He must have known exactly where we were going to be. Everyone in this place followed his strict timetable. “I’m glad I’ve caught you. I’m going to be having some guests again tomorrow evening. I’d like you all to be ready, which means no fighting between yourselves, is that understood?”

  He put out a finger and looked decisively between Kimmie and me, as though we had some spat going on rather than her attacking me as a way to get to him.

  “Yes, sir,” we said in unison, like naughty children parroting back to a school headmaster.

  “Good. Now get some rest, and I’ll see you all tomorrow. Don’t let me down.”

  My stomach twisted. So, we were being handed over to his friends again. I had the feeling things weren’t going to go as well for me as they had the previous time. I’d been let off lightly the other night, but things wouldn’t stay that way. At some point, Torres was going to want to have full sex with me, and I’d just have to close my eyes and go along with it. I was surprised he hadn’t taken me already, and I could only assume he was enjoying drawing out the tension, savoring me like an expensive wine.

  Feeling utterly helpless, I walked in line with the others back to the room. I jumped as the door slammed shut behind us, locking us in once again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I opened my eyes to a dark and silent house.

  It was time.

  I’d lain down on the bed fully dressed, my boots still on, prepared for having to move fast if needed. I’d felt certain either the empty safe or Paul’s body was going to bite me in the ass, but so far, I’d gotten away with it.

  I had the address where I hoped Catalina was being held folded inside the top pocket of my shirt. Tucked down the waistband of my jeans was Paul’s gun, the grip hidden by the bottom of my shirt. Inside my jeans pocket were the keys to Paul’s car.

  I wanted to take the money, too, but I would have to come back for it. The case was too bulky to carry around with me, and was bound to cause questions if I was seen. Besides, it was the least important part of what I was about to do, and I was prepared to leave it if I had to.

  Finally, I pulled out the cannister of gas. I had an old box of matches in a drawer from when I’d enjoyed the occasional cigar, so I pocketed that as well.

  Slipping out of the bedroom, I made my way along the hallway, conscious of signs of anyone else. Everything was quiet for the moment, though it wouldn’t stay that way for much longer.

  Before I could start, I had one thing I needed to take care of. Praying that no one would see me, I crept down the stairs. The sprinkler system needed to be disabled if this was going to work. I located the sprinkler feed beneath the stairs and twisted the valve to t
urn off the water.

  There, done. I couldn’t take care of all of the smoke alarms, but with the sprinkler system off, I hoped the fire would spread too quickly to be able to do much about it.

  I went back to my father’s office and stood outside the locked door. This time I didn’t need a key—I had no reason to get inside. Instead, I unscrewed the cap of the cannister and emptied the contents all over the wood and carpet beneath. I’d chosen this spot for a reason. Not only was I burning down my father’s most important place in this house, I also hoped it would burn hot enough to eradicate the body hidden in the roof space above my head, or if it didn’t manage to burn the whole body, it would at least destroy any proof of who killed him.

  The gas was strong, the fumes catching in the back of my throat and making my eyes water. A cough tickled, insistent, but I held it back, clearing my throat instead and swallowing hard, trying to get rid of the itch. I didn’t want to give myself away until this fire had taken hold.

  With the gas soaking the area, I dumped the empty cannister. I didn’t need it anymore. I took a couple of steps back and fished into my pocket for the box of matches.

  This was it. Once that match was struck, there was no going back.

  I didn’t care.

  I lit the match with a hiss, a flare of heat, and a spark of sulfur. Then I braced myself, and threw it.

  It hit the area covered in gas, and the result was instantaneous. Blue light danced across the surface, spreading outward in all directions. The ripple of light was quickly followed by flames of yellow, orange, and white.

  I turned back and jogged back toward my room. I wanted it to look as though I’d been woken, the same as everyone else.

  The smell of smoke filled the air, together with the crackle and pop of things burning. The fire was spreading, and still there was no sign of the alarms. It suddenly occurred to me that my father probably hadn’t checked the batteries for years. That was going to be a big mistake.