Page 26 of Dimitri
The lady at the makeup stand lied earlier today. The mascara I paid twenty-two dollars for isn’t waterproof. I can’t see my cheeks, but I can feel the big black smears rolling down them. They’re mixed with the saltiness of my tears, but the chunkiness that comes from applying three generous coats of mascara is highly obvious.
I stormed in here feeling as brave as a soldier.
Now I’m on the verge of peeing my pants.
That makes me ashamed of myself.
“Do it. Kill me.” I step up to the man until the barrel of his gun digs into a dress too thin for this time of year. It makes the shudders reeking with my body more apparent, but has me proud I won’t die a coward. “Put me out of my misery once and for all.”
“Do you want to die, little girl?” asks the man with a thick Italian accent.
“No,” I answer with a shake of my head. “But I’m not going to beg for my life to be spared. That would have me dying a coward. I’d rather die than be seen as weak.” My words are strong, however my composure is anything but. I’m shaking so much, the black blobs rolling down my face quiver in the panted breaths when they cling to my top lip.
“You should be happy you made it this far. Usually, I would have shot you in the back.” He shrugs like killing is something he does every day before he raises his gun to my head. “A change-up is as good as a holiday. I can see your eyes now.”
I’m at a loss as to what he means, but his son has no issues understanding him. He grabs the barrel of his gun in an instant, shocking me so much my eyes bulge. “Let me.” His voice is extra deep like his cock is hard just from the thought of killing me. I’m not surprised. He seems like a man who gets off on danger. “It’s my fault she’s here, so it’s my responsibility to clean up the mess.” When his father hesitates, the stranger adds more authenticity to his assurance. “Then I can get my money’s worth during our trip to the woods. I paid good money for her, so I plan to find out if she was worth her price tag.”
His father smiles a wickedly evil grin that has my stomach flipping even with him weakening his clutch on the trigger of his gun. “I understand your interest. She has such a feisty spark.” My chest labors through a challenging breath when he angles his torso to face his son. He isn’t peering at him in a loving manner. It’s as if their family has as many issues as mine. “She reminds me a lot of your wife.” He assesses his son’s face for a response. Like he’s hopeful his words will hurt him. “Is that what has you so fascinated, son? Or are you looking for a cunt to keep your dick warm for the night? Or a replacement spouse?”
“A man has needs.” Even not knowing the dark-haired man, I’m confident in saying he’s exuding mammoth self-restraint. His dipping tone is indicating enough, much less how white his knuckles are. His hands are balled so tight, even if his father were to yank back the trigger, the bullet wouldn’t make it through the barrel. That’s how fierce his grip is. “I had them long before I married, and I still have them now.” His eyes are deadly, tainted with hate. “Do you have an issue with that?”
The tension in the room turns roasting. It hisses and crackles in the air even more than the energy that teems through me when the gray-haired man lowers his gun two heart-thrashing seconds later. “Fine. Do with her what you may, but be sure to have it done by sun-up.”
Vomit scorches my throat when he fills the gap his gun no longer takes up. I never understood the term ‘skin-crawling’ until now. My skin does precisely that when he runs the back of his hand down my mascara-stained cheeks. If there weren’t so much evil in his eyes, I could have mistaken his gesture as kindness. It’s almost gentle, in a psychotic, mass-murderer type of way.
“Just don’t be too gentle with her. I want to hear all about her screams.” He waits for his son to dip his chin before he sidesteps me and exits the gloomy room.
I think I’m clear of danger.
It was silly of me to ever believe.
The door has barely banged closed when a white cloth is pressed over my mouth and nose. The scent vaping off it bombards me with horrendous nausea in less than a nanosecond, and even quicker than that, I black out.
Chapter Twelve
Dimitri
Ihold my finger in the air, cutting off the scorn I see in Rocco’s eyes before he can deliver. My mood is teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff. I’m the most unhinged I’ve ever been. Now isnotthe time for him to lecture me. I know what I saw, I know who Roxanne is, and I plan to make sure she takes responsibility for the death of my wife.
I knew I had seen her mesmerizing green eyes before. The change in her hair coloring and the maturity of her looks threw me off the scent for over a year, but there’s no denying them now.
Her mascara stained-face is undeniable.
When she stood across from me minutes ago, riling my father like he wouldn’t gut her where she stood, it felt as if I had stepped back in time. I was once again entrapped by her beauty, stunned she could emanate such appeal on her darkest day.
Roxanne was the woman standing on the corner of the restaurant Audrey was kidnapped from. The woman I gawked at for so long, I didn’t see my enemies creeping up on me until it was too late. She’s the reason Audrey is dead and the cause of me not laying eyes on my daughter in person since she was born. Now she must pay the penance for her stupidity.
I just need my cock to get the memo first.
It’s as hard now as it was when I watched her being fingered in the alleyway almost a year ago today, pulsating with an equal amount of desire and adrenaline. Its response can’t be helped. Roxanne’s paper-thin dress is pushed an inch above her tiny lace panties, and her thigh gap allows an uninterrupted view of a cunt I’m sure tastes delicious.
Although her eyes are shut due to the strength of the chloroform Clover used to subdue her, I don’t need them to be open to know they’re the same emerald green color of her dress. I’ve studied them multiple times the past nine months in the many surveillance images Rocco took of her. I know every speckle and every flaw.
I also know them well enough to know they’ll never be the same once I’m done with her.
I can’t believe it took me this long to place all the pieces of the puzzle together. She’s always been there in the background of every scene. At the restaurant Audrey was taken from, in the alleyway when I instigated my ruse to make it appear as if I were moving on, and on the very ramp that led to the airstrip that ripped my daughter away from me for another nine long months. I just stupidly saw it as fate instead of the intricate ruse it is.
My father left Roxanne’s punishment to me. He never does that. If he has the opportunity of watching the light in someone’s eyes be snuffed, he’s there with bells on.
