Inferno (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 7) Page 4

  I move my legs and groan. I took a shower, minus soap or a towel, when Fernandez returned me to our prison. It helped only by giving me a place to cry away from Cori. I need another shower and even then, I’ll never be clean. My back hurts because I foolishly tried to fight Fernandez. He wrestled me into handcuffs and then proceeded to zap me in the back with a damn cattle prod when I continued fighting. Even when my muscles seized, I fought until I realized he liked it. Closing down my fight response was nearly impossible. I searched inside myself for anything that would help me survive what no woman should ever experience. I focused on Moon, allowing his strength to wash over me when I needed it most. I thought about the first time we met. I was terrified while Moon was calm and calculating. From the beginning, we were like oil and water. He finally proved, in his determined, no one stands in his way mentality that I couldn’t live without him.

  He was right. He’s the air I breathe and the water I drink rolled into one. He’s an unstoppable life force that attracts those around him to believe in greater things. I gave up a life of fighting crime for him. Maybe my heyday as a police officer was over by the time Moon found me, but I still believed in right and wrong. With Moon in my life, those lines blurred. He has the ability to turn black and white reality into beautiful, swirling shades of gray. He makes me believe in his vision of a better world and all of these thoughts will help me survive what Fernandez was doing to my body. Moon is my anchor and I will survive for him.

  Steam from the bathroom pours out when Cori walks into the bedroom. Water drips from her lithe body. At least it’s warm enough that the lack of towels makes little difference. I notice the makeshift bandage around her hand is soggy when she sits on the opposite bed.

  “We need to change that,” I tell her, sitting up for the first time since waking.

  Dull, lifeless eyes stare back at me. It’s an expression I’ve never seen from her before. She’s given up and even then, Cori’s huge heart comes through. “Are you okay?” she asks gently.

  I won’t lie to her. “No. You?”

  She shakes her head and her lips tremble. “No.”

  “We’re in this together,” I say with more spirit that I realize I had. The upward tip of her lips can’t be considered a smile. There’s too much pain. “You shouldn’t have come after me, Mak. I was dead before you even got here and now you’re dead too.”

  Without groaning from the sourness between my thighs, I stand and cross the few feet separating us. “Neither of us is dead, Cori. Don’t give up on Moon.” I place my arms around her and we both start crying when she leans into me. I hold her tighter, smoothing my hand across her back, offering comfort and taking it too. I hate fucking tears, but if there was ever a time to cry it’s now.

  It doesn’t matter that Cori fucks men for money. That’s of her own free will. She was sexually violated by two men last night. Like Fernandez did, neither would have bothered using condoms. We’re both on the pill, but we aren’t safe from sexually transmitted diseases. I say none of this because Cori already knows the score.

  I have no idea how long we sit like this. It’s the opening door that startles us. I don’t release my hold on Cori when the door opens wide. Cori immediately stops crying and tries to move away from me. I hold her back, taking comfort in the two of us so close together. Then I see what Fernandez is carrying—fucking pruning shears. Cori sees them too and she starts screaming and struggling against me.

  “Gag the bitch,” Fernandez says with no feeling. Just the sound of his voice makes nausea rise in my throat. The things he said to me last night rocket through my head, making me dizzy. His voice, the smell of his body… no, I won’t go there no matter what he does.

  His henchmen come toward us and I release Cori and stand in order to protect her. The younger man strikes his fist into my stomach with no warning. Air explodes from my lungs and I go cross-eyed, dropping to my knees. Fernandez rolls a cart between the mattresses while I try to draw air into my lungs. The man Fernandez called Goose yesterday, gags Cori while the driver helps. Cori fights back and receives a punch to her head, which ends further protests.

  “I like sending presents,” Fernandez says with an ugly sneer. “The only thing that would make it better is if I had video of the look on Moon’s face when he opens the next box. I’m sure opening my packages is the highlight of his fucking day.” The laugh that rumbles from his throat sends shivers across my arms. He laughed just like that last night when he raped me.

  Slowly, as I’m able to breathe again, absolute clarity enters my consciousness. I’ve been stupid since the moment I walked outside and stepped into Fernandez’s vehicle. My one thought has been that Moon will come for me. He’ll save me. He’ll kill Fernandez. The old me, the one before Moon dominated my life, would never think this way. Cori and I can’t wait for my husband. To do that will get us killed. I need to kill Fernandez with my own two hands and feel the life drain from his body. As soon as this conclusion settles in my brain, a sense of calm rolls through me. I calmly stand and walk toward Fernandez, who’s at the end of Cori’s bed with his fat hanging jowls, dead animal eyes, and absent soul. He’s ready to strike me and pulls his fist back. I rest my hand on the top of the cart already covered in Cori’s dried blood. I look into his eyes, swearing to myself that he will not win. Even if Cori and I die, Moon will eventually find him. Fernandez is a dead man walking and he doesn’t even know it. “Take your pound of flesh, motherfucker, and enjoy the time you have left.”

  He looks down at my hand and then back into my eyes. “I have no intention of fucking you with imperfections. My friends aren’t as picky about the cunt in the next bed.”

  Cori’s high-pitched scream from behind the gag is one I’ll never forget. I ignore her and leave my hand out. “You’re going to kill her. Take my fucking finger if you want my husband to suffer. Taking hers won’t bother him.” It’s a lie, but this asshole has no idea who my husband truly is. Suffering bothers Moon on so many levels and it took me longer than it should have to realize that.

  The pruning shears come up and I inhale. Knowing I’ll scream pisses me off. I hate giving him the satisfaction. Instead of taking my finger, the rounded tip of the sheers presses into my throat. “I make the rules, not some cunt who thinks her husband is God. Now move back or I’ll enjoy tying you to the mattress.” Our faces are about six inches apart. I can’t win this, but he’s not cutting up Cori again without a fight from me.

  The commotion behind me continues and I know Cori is still fighting. I don’t look at her because Fernandez holds my attention. With no care for the shears pressed to my throat, I head-butt Fernandez and shove the shears away with everything I have. Swinging my fist up, I strike Fernandez in the Adam’s apple. It wasn’t hard enough to kill him unfortunately, but it will slow him down for a few minutes.

  My punishment is swift after Fernandez goes down. I have no time to grab the shears. The kick to the back of my leg, compliments of Goose, lands me on top of the rotten son of a bitch I just leveled. I see another opportunity and I go for his eyes. It’s what I refused to do last night when he raped me because he threatened to kill Cori and I knew he would do it.

  Rape is one thing. Cori would rather die than be cut again. A red rage overtakes me, blinding me to everything but Fernandez’s death. The room is a tunnel with freedom on one end and Fernandez and his men on the other. I need to kill him. I must.

  Fernandez screams as I dig my fingers into his eyeballs. Fighting him feeds the rage inside of me. A foot plows into my ribs. I try to breathe, but air is in short supply again. It won’t stop me. Fernandez is gasping for breath trying to get away and the asshole keeps the shears locked in a tight grip. I strike out with my fist and hit the man behind me. Pivoting my legs, I wrap them around Fernandez’s waist, tightening the muscles, pulling him closer so I can head-butt him again. Before I can carry out the next move, one of the men grabs a handful of my hair and pulls, dragging me several feet away. I try to twist and kick him but
it’s not enough.

  “Don’t you fucking kill her,” Fernandez wheezes.

  Goose pushes my face into the carpet and his foot presses into the center of my back. I haven’t had time for the adrenaline to recede, so I don’t feel pain. That changes when the toe of Goose’s shoe drives into my ribs and then he puts all his body weight on the foot in my back. The inability to breathe trumps everything. His next kick takes me in the head and the world goes fuzzy.

  My arms are listless by the time Fernandez is able to stand up and secure my hands behind my back using his handcuffs. “Pick the black bitch up if you need to, but get her hand over to the damn table,” he directs his men.

  Cori grunts again as fists meets flesh. The noise she continues making behind the gag reflects her fear and determination to stop what’s about to happen. I gain my feet while their attention is on Cori. The door is open. If I can clear the bed and get out of this room there might be a weapon I can use. Lucas kicks my knee and I land on the mattress, rolling with the pain and unable to stand. “I’ll take two fingers if you cause more trouble,” Fernandez says and gulps in air while sweat drips down his face and he points the shears at me.

  This can’t be happening again, but there’s nothing Cori or I can do to stop it. For Cori’s sake, I refuse to look away. Goose holds Cori by the hair and her upper arm while Fernandez ties off her finger where it meets her hand with a small piece of twine from his pocket. Cori’s gagged screams fill the room when the shears do their job, and I almost puke. She slumps against the two men holding her while making a low keening sound. I’m crying louder than she is. “You son of a bitch,” I yell at Fernandez.

  He calmly gives Goose the shears and looks over at me while he straightens his collar and the cuffs of his white sleeves. Hatred pours through my body, filling each cell. It’s a blinding hatred that needs release. I’ll stay alive just to cut him to pieces. Fernandez walks over, leans down, and pinches my nipple which I can’t defend against because my hands are cuffed behind me. “I like a woman who fights but you’ve taken it too far, Chiquita.” The punch to the side of my head turns the world dark. Again.

  Chapter Eight

  Madison

  Hair moving off my face startles me awake. I pull the punch I intended to give when Cori’s sweat-soaked brow comes into view. Her sloppily wrapped hand rests on the bed beside me and she’s using her uninjured hand to move my hair aside.

  “We need to wrap your hand,” I say in a throaty voice I don’t recognize as my own. The throb in my head is almost debilitating. Every part of me hurts.

  “No, Mak, you need to let me go and worry about you.” She rests the palm of her good hand on my cheek. “He’s taken everything, and I’ll never work again. I don’t want to live this way and there’s nothing more he can do to me that will make it better or worse.”

  Her gloomy conviction scares me and I cover the hand on my cheek, feeling the dreaded warmth of her skin. She’s running a temperature. “Don’t let that monster win,” I tell her. “He’ll eventually start cutting me up too, but we’ll both survive. I won’t give up and I refuse to let you give up.”

  Tears slide down her face. She jerks her hand off the mattress when I move. The torn sheets are lying on Cori’s bed. Fernandez didn’t take them. He also uncuffed me while I was unconscious. I don’t want to know if he did anything to me while I was out. The last thing I remember is him pinching my nipple.

  No, I won’t think about that.

  I slide around Cori and grab the material off her bed in order to rebandage her hand. The room spins, but I manage to stay upright. I know I have a slight concussion from the blow to my head, but that’s the least of our worries right now.

  Cori is now resting on my bed, her breathing shallow. I carefully sit down near her injured fingers and slowly remove the wrap she put on it while I was out cold. This time Fernandez cut off her pinky finger. The severed digit has ragged skin hanging from the wound and the knot of string Fernandez used before cutting it off is still tied around the base.

  My brain fights attack mode. I’m injured and I need to give myself some time to recover. I will kill the three men who did this, but I need to be at my best to do it. My injuries don’t stop my imagination. Images of my bare hands squeezing the life from Fernandez’s throat fill my vision. Cori lets out a small cry and the image dissolves.

  “Sorry,” I say before walking to the bathroom with a strip of sheet to get it wet. I draw slow, even breaths into my sore chest and think of all the ways a person can die. None of them are evil enough to punish Fernandez.

  “They raped me again.” Cori’s lips tremble and then she sobs into her bent arm.

  I walk back into the room and my hand goes to her hair. All I can do is soothe her while the tears of hopelessness fall. She can’t give up. I won’t let her.

  “I need to untie the tourniquet on your finger and bandage your hand. It will hurt.” My words are soft and gentle, coaxing even. I slide my fingers down her hair, over her shoulder and allow them to travel down her arm so I don’t startle her. She doesn’t look up when I start working. I pull carefully at the string and unloop it from what’s left of her finger. The bandage on the other severed finger is a small section of folded sheet and it’s stuck to her skin. I use the damp sheet on the dried blood until I can lift the folded cloth off. Her hand is swollen and the signs of infection worry me. She’s already running a temperature. Her eyes, which are usually a sharp brown, are dull and lifeless, barely registering what I’m doing.

  I dress the new wound with clean strips of sheet. I continue wrapping while blood leaks through several layers. When her hand is nothing but a large ball of white sheet, I rest it on the bed beside her and help her get as comfortable as possible on my mattress. After she’s settled, I lie beside her with one arm over her shoulder. We don’t talk. Keeping desperation at bay is nearly impossible, but I don’t allow my thoughts to move past killing Fernandez and his goons.

  Thirty minutes later, Cori’s breathing deepens and I know she’s finally able to sleep. I’m unable to remain still, so I stand and walk around the room looking at every nook and crevice. There must be something. My eyes fall on the steel cabinet several times before I walk over and open the double doors. I get on the floor and look inside again. There’s a steel shelf that I noticed the last time. I start bending, prying, and pulling the metal. While I’m working, a plan forms in my head. It will either get us killed or out of here. Thirty minutes later, the shelf breaks off. I take it into the bathroom in case one of the men enters the room and bend it some more until I finally have a weapon.

  Chapter Nine

  Moon

  I don’t allow my desperation to show. It’s a cloying weight sitting on my chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Madison has been in that man’s hands for over twenty-four hours.

  “Hold on, baby,” I say inside my head. “Just hold on.”

  Dax and his man Duke arrived a few minutes ago. Austin arrived two hours before and brought Melina along with ten men. Melina is now entrenched with the women sorting information in the control room, which they’ve taken over.

  Dax’s news is minimal. “All we have are rumors, nothing solid,” he says into the quiet conference room.

  My fists are clenched and I’m about to lose it. Never in my life have I felt this desperate.

  “Go on,” Alex prompts. He knows me well and he fully understands I’m not coping with the situation.

  “The rumor is about two escorts that never returned from a call. They disappeared a week apart. Are you familiar with Miles Cartwright?”

  Alex straightens in his chair and I pull my thoughts away from what’s happening to Mak at this very moment. “We know him,” I answer.

  “It’s two of his girls. The ladies who work for him are nervous, and the ones we talked to have drug habits and won’t notify law enforcement because apparently Miles supplies their needs.”

  I glance at Dax’s goon because it looks like
he wants to add something. “If you have something to share, spit it out,” I say impatiently.

  He shakes his head, which only pisses me off. “Spill it,” I say between clenched teeth. I have no idea why his silence bothers me so much other than I’m on edge and everything bothers me.

  Dax answers. “He’s mute. He can write down your answer, but we need paper.”

  I give Duke a once-over. Huge doesn’t do a good job at describing him. I cast a quick glance at Alex, whose lips are twitching. He doesn’t want to take on this goliath any more than I do and here I was pushing a fight with a man who doesn’t speak.

  I manage to clip out the word “paper” and Alex leaves the room. He returns a minute later with paper and pen and slips it in front of Duke. The large man turns the paper slightly and starts writing. When he’s finished, he slides the page to Dax. He reads it and then slides it to me. Without having use of words, Duke has captured the fine art of script writing; the lettering flows in an almost artistic way.

  No one should hurt women.

  When you pay a visit to Cartwright, I wish to attend.

  I pass the note to Alex, who nods at Duke and then passes it on to Austin.

  Dax steeples his fingers. “I say the five of us pay him a visit.”

  Austin speaks for the first time since entering the room. “I know this place is a fortress, but I’m not leaving Melina here alone.”

  He’s right. Fernandez wants Melina and she’s in danger as long as he’s alive.

  “That works. Get your men settled in the pool house. Gabriella will help.”

  Alex snorts. Gabriella is a lifesaver and a challenge. She’s at her best when she’s busy, and feeding ten additional men plus Austin and Melina will help her stay out of our hair.

  Before we’ve finalized our plan, one of my men knocks and enters the room. It’s Juan. He’s holding a box, similar to the one containing Cori’s finger, and my stomach drops.