Fallen Empire (Dirty Empire Book 4) Read online

  Agent Lewis’s lips purse as she glances at Michelle—perhaps to confirm the truth of that claim—but then she shifts her attention to her partner. “When do you plan on returning to Phoenix? In case we have more questions and need to contact you again.”

  “We check out tomorrow.” Caleb grins. “Unless the roulette table’s good to me and I decide to stay.”

  “Good luck with that, gentlemen.” With another brief glance around, they leave.

  Caleb waits until the elevator doors close before he announces, “She might need a bit more work before she falls for my insatiable charm.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get another chance at her and soon.” Because it won’t be long before she comes sniffing around again.

  Especially when we leave Vegas tomorrow, and Mercy isn’t with us.

  6

  Mercy

  My heart pounds as I watch Bane set a paper plate and fresh bottle of water on the floor. It’s been hours since I last saw my captor. The blood-drenched apron is gone, and his cropped hair is damp from the shower I heard running on the other side of the wall earlier. He’s changed into a fresh pair of blue jeans and an avocado-green T-shirt, and his leather boots are polished. All in all, he looks like any other man, save for the jagged scar that runs along the side of his face, as if someone dragged a knife down the length of it.

  It’s been hours and the woman hasn’t screamed again.

  “Hope you like peanut butter. It’s all I got.” His voice is grumbly, harsh. He seems annoyed.

  I swallow but keep quiet. I haven’t thought about food once since I woke up in the back of the van, and the white-bread sandwich he’s left out like a dish for a dog doesn’t stir any pangs of hunger now.

  Bane’s stony gaze rolls over the coral blouse and white capris that I dug out of the suitcase. Whoever these clothes belonged to, she was a petite woman, older in years, based on the compression garments and modest style, who had a penchant for silk in bold shades of pink. The top stretches tight across my chest and the pants reach just below my knees, but it’s a far better option than the heavy terry cloth robe. That, I’ve spread over the mattress so I have something relatively clean to sit on.

  Much to my dismay, there was nothing else useful in the suitcase beyond clothes. No toiletry bag with nail scissors, no curling iron. Not even a belt. Nothing I could fashion into a weapon. I assume he made sure of that before he handed it to me. He doesn’t seem like a fool.

  Bane wanders over to the bucket and peers inside. “What are you, a camel?”

  I bite back the lie that I don’t have to go. The truth is I’m sitting on this mattress because after downing two bottles to keep hydrated, my bladder is ready to burst. Just the sight of another water bottle is causing me discomfort, but I can’t bring myself to squat over the bucket yet.

  “When will you call Gabriel again?” I need to hear his voice. I need to know he’s coming to get me out of here.

  “Who says I am?” Bane snorts. “Don’t go gettin’ your hopes up for some big rescue, doll. He won’t find you out here. We’re in the middle of nowhere and that ain’t no exaggeration.”

  I take a calming breath, struggling to hide the fear from showing on my face. “I think you’re underestimating him. He’s pretty resourceful.”

  “Oh yeah? And how long have you two been rollin’ around in the sheets? A couple nights? A week, maybe?” He chortles.

  “Longer than that.” And in our time together, there’s nothing Gabriel hasn’t gotten that he wanted, including me.

  “Sounds like he’s been pouring all kinds of sweet lies into your little ears.” Bane leans against the doorframe with a smarmy grin. “He’s got you fooled real good. Don’t you know what they are?”

  “I know what his father is,” I say coolly.

  “Yeah. An Easton, just like Gabriel’s an Easton, and that hotheaded brother of his is an Easton. Their kind don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves and all their money. I know ‘cause I’ve been doin’ work for that family for way longer than you’ve been his little plaything, and you want to know how many problems I’ve solved for them in that time?” His eyebrows arch in question.

  “You mean for his father?” This guy works for Vlad Easton, not Gabriel and Caleb. He said so himself when they were arguing on the phone.

  “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself.” His lips twist in thought. “I should enlighten you to the things they’ve paid me to do to people—”

  My head is shaking vigorously before he finishes his sentence. He’s lying. Gabriel’s never hired Bane to do anything that requires an apron and a shed in the desert.

  He smirks. “Yeah, you ladies never want to hear about that part of the business, do you? Takes the shine off all the diamonds, don’t it?”

  I instinctively reach for my finger. It’s naked, the costly Paloma ring Gabriel gave me as a graduation gift left behind on the nightstand.

  Bane’s eyes drag around my room. “Yeah, I’d get used to this room if I were you. Vlad ain’t in any rush to let you go, not as long as he can keep his boy in line by havin’ you here.”

  “So, what, then? You’re going to keep me locked in this room, bringing me peanut butter sandwiches every day?”

  Bane shrugs. “Until enough time passes, and Gabe moves on. But you should know, I ain’t good at keeping things alive. That’s the opposite of what I’m good at doing.”

  I feel the color drain from my face.

  His chuckle is dark as he shuts the door.

  I barely notice the medley of locks clicking, my thoughts stuck on his words. Gabriel has been trying to get out from under his father’s thumb for years and he’s been making plenty of dangerous moves to ensure that happened lately. But now Bane has me, and I know why: Vlad is going to use me as leverage to force Gabriel into taking over the family drug business.

  How long before Gabriel realizes that I’m not worth the power his father now holds over him?

  “Who is H. G. Wells.” A moment later, Bane hollers with glee. He’s gotten yet another answer correct.

  I toss the bland peanut butter sandwich back onto the paper plate. Fantastic. I’m being held against my will in the middle of nowhere and my captor is a wannabe Jeopardy champion. It must be late into the night by now, this is the fourth episode, and I’ve been sitting by the door, listening intently, hoping for some clue as to where he’s holding me. So far, there has been no sign of other people, no visitors, no one has called, and Bane hasn’t called anyone else.

  “I’ll take Stupid Answers for eight hundred, Alex!” Bane mimics the contestant.

  Alex Trebek died of cancer last year. These episodes are definitely recorded.

  After my little crying fit earlier, I got back to my feet with renewed vigor, reminding myself of what I went through with that lecherous prick, Fleet, and my father’s ensuing murder conviction. Life felt hopeless for a time, until Gabriel came along and solved my problems.

  He’ll save me from this mess, too.

  But if he doesn’t, I have to be ready to save myself.

  I dissect my tiny room in vain for the umpteenth time, strategizing escape routes. Even with a crowbar, I wouldn’t have luck prying the plywood off the window. The door has too many locks and they’re all on the outside. There’s the light bulb, of course. When I flip the bucket upside down and stand on my tiptoes atop it, I can just reach the bottom of it. I’d have to shut the light for a bit, let it cool, and then unscrew it in the dark. I could break it and arm myself with a piece of jagged glass.

  My mind keeps veering back to that idea, but it’s quickly followed by the worry: what if it doesn’t break properly and I’m left with too small a piece to cause any real damage? I doubt Bane will replace the light and then I’ll be left sitting here in darkness. As bad as being trapped in a room is, being in a dark room would be worse.

  In any case, my bucket is full of urine now, stalling me from that desperate plan.

  I could lie in wait by the door and swing the suitcase at Bane’s head….

  No, a flying suitcase won’t take out a guy that got through Gabriel’s security team with such ease.

  The game show breaks for commercial and a loud creak sounds, followed by the shuffling of feet coming this way.

  I scurry back to my spot on the mattress and listen to the locks open. Bane strolls in, dragging his boots as if tired from a long day. He heads straight for the pail.

  My cheeks flush as he carries it out without a word, leaving my door wide open to disappear into the bathroom. Is this a test? Is he wanting to see if I’ll make a run for it? My blood pounds in my ears as I listen to liquid splashing into the toilet. I clammer to my feet, the urge to try for an escape overwhelming. But how much of a head start could I really make before he caught up to me? What would he do to me?

  It’s dark out now, the glow from the sun around the edge of the plywood gone. I have that going for me if I run. Probably the only thing going for me.

  Before I can make a move, the toilet is flushing and Bane is strolling back in, dropping my bucket on the floor.

  With a disinterested glance at my uneaten sandwich, he turns and leaves, locking the door behind him.

  I wake with a start. It takes only seconds for my mind to register the mattress and the dull light bulb and the plywood over the window, and remember that this nightmare is real, not imagined.

  An eeriness hangs in the stale air. There’s no halo of light around the window to hint at daytime, so it must still be the night—

  “No! Don’t!” A man’s shout echoes through the otherwise silent night.

  I hold my breath and listen for more. Could it be Gabriel? Could he have found me and been caught by this psycho?

  A scream sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end. There’s no mistaking the sound for anything other than what it is—agony. That can’t be Gabriel. Vlad wouldn’t have his own son tortured, not when he’s gone to the trouble of kidnapping me to force him into servitude.

  “Stop! Please!” The man begs, followed a moment later by a panicked shriek. “We didn’t talk! We didn’t tell them anything! Tell Vlad we didn’t talk!”

  It’s not Gabriel. It’s a voice I don’t recognize.

  Didn’t talk to who? Didn’t tell them what?

  Bane has clearly been paid to play judge, jury, and executioner, exacting whatever punishment his boss has ordered, with the assumption they’ve wronged him somehow.

  Another pain-filled scream carries into the night.

  And then another.

  And another.

  And another.

  Nausea churns in my stomach, my hands reach for my mouth to stifle my own cry. I don’t know who the man is or what he did to earn Vlad’s wrath and Bane’s attention, but no one deserves to suffer the way he’s suffering.

  The agonizing screams carry on into the night. I press my hands to my ears and hum to try to drown out the sound, until my throat is raw and the screams have shifted from blood curdling to sob laced to hollow, and then faded into silence.

  But the memory of them lingers long after I hear the heavy footfalls trek down the hall, the running shower turn to a trickle, and the bedframe creak in the room next to mine—a murderer collecting his rest after a busy day.

  He killed two people today, while I’ve sat in this room.

  How long before I’m screaming like those people?

  A slight glow of predawn light outlines the plywood, the only source of light in my room, as footsteps approach along the hall. Between the fingers of my right hand, I hold the shattered lightbulb. Several jagged corners jut out from the base. I grip my bucket between both fists.

  Somewhere between Bane climbing into his bed and now, within the long, creeping silence, tangled in my horrified thoughts, I concocted this plan. It came easily, a domino of ideas. I walked through it a few times, practicing. A dress rehearsal of sorts.

  But now, I fear I’ve gravely miscalculated a basic step thanks to my delirium. I have no idea if it’ll work, and too many things could go wrong. Still, after listening to that man beg for his life, I have to try. Try, and pray I’m too valuable to Gabriel’s father for Bane to harm me if I fail.

  Blood pounds in my ear as I listen to the methodological click-click-click-clicks of the locks that secure my door. Four locks. Always fumbling. I recall seeing keys on padlocks the last time he came in.

  My door swings open.

  I hold my breath.

  “Time to wake up.” Bane grumbles, his own voice groggy. He reaches in to flick the light switch.

  A bubble of terrified excitement bursts inside me. It’s what I’d hoped for.

  I fling the bucket, aiming the slosh of urine at his face before I drop it upside down on his head.

  He yells in surprise but recovers in an instant, reaching for me, another move I’d anticipated—and hoped for. I slash at his hand with the shattered lightbulb. The angular glass slices across his palm, earning a hiss of pain.

  I shove him from behind so he stumbles farther into my room, and then I pull the door shut and fasten the lock bolt at the top.

  “You little bitch!!” He hurls himself against the door. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you!”

  With trembling hands, I fumble with the three other locks—another bolt and two metal latches, the padlocks hanging open, keys inside—but the entire frame is shaking too much with each slam of his body against it.

  “You just wait until I get out of here.” His maniacal laugh skitters down my spine. “You’re gonna be sorry.”

  A crack sounds, like wood splitting. He’s going to break this door down any second. Abandoning the other locks. I turn and run down the narrow hall, and plow out the door.

  The sun is just cresting over the horizon, blanketing the desert in an orange glow and dissolving the night’s indigo sky. In any other situation, it would bring back fond memories of early mornings with Gabriel, on top of his mountain, lying on the loungers.

  I quickly scan my surroundings. The security gate is closed and latched with chains. If I can get through that, I can follow the road as far as it will take me.

  I run for the van, the sand refreshingly cool against my bare feet, and jump into the driver’s side. And curse. The keys aren’t sitting in the ignition, where I hoped they’d be.

  A splintering crash sounds somewhere inside the trailer and my stomach drops. Bane must have broken through the door.

  I slam my hand down on the van locks to buy myself time and then fumble in the console, in the cup holders, anywhere someone might leave a set of keys.

  I find them in under the sun visor.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a form charging my way. I force myself to ignore him and focus. I’m so close to being free. But my hands are shaking so bad when I try to slip the key in the ignition that I drop them on the van floor. “Shit!” I scramble to collect them.

  That’s when the driver’s side window shatters.

  I scream as a bloodied hand reaches through to hit the lock switch. In seconds the door has flung open, a fist is roped around my bicep, and I’m yanked out of the driver’s seat. I struggle to stay on my feet as Bane drags me back toward the trailer.

  “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? I’ve brought you water and food. Haven’t laid a finger on you,” he mutters more to himself. I fight against his grip, but he’s strong, shockingly so for a wiry man. “And what do I get in return? Covered in piss and sliced up!” His rage echoes through the quiet desert. “Apparently I’ve been too nice. It’s time we rectify that.”

  He’s not taking me back to the trailer, I realize. We’re heading toward the garage.

  To the place where I’m almost certain he’s killed two people since he brought me here. God only knows how many before that.

  A fresh wave of panic seizes me. I can’t let him take me in there.

  I twist and turn, kicking at his shins as hard as I can, first with my bare toes, then with my heels, trying to break free.

  “Settle down!” He punctuates the warning with a backhanded slap across my face that sends my head snapping to the side.

  Pain explodes across my cheek where his knuckles make contact. I take a moment to breathe through it as he hauls me closer to his torture room, a limp in his step now. “No problem, my ass. Fucking Eastons. Told Vlad I don’t wanna deal with this kind of shit. He said you’d be no problem. Bullshit.”

  The metallic taste of blood touches my tongue. I ignore it as I scramble for desperate words. “You can’t kill me. Vlad needs me alive if Gabriel’s going to do what he wants.”

  “Good thing there’s a long way to go between alive and dead. You’re about to find that out.”

  I struggle against his grip again. It earns me another hard slap.

  While I’m recovering from the blow, Bane jams a key into the door’s deadbolt.

  Inside the garage is pitch-black and reeks of chemicals. Bleach and I’m not sure what else. Within the path of the early morning light that streams through the doorway, I see nothing but a big, open space and a chain that dangles from the ceiling.

  And a small table with various tools laid out in a tidy row.

  Almost surgical.

  Bane drags me forward, toward them, his fingertips digging into my flesh and muscle.

  My heels scrape across the dirt floor as I resist. “I’m sorry! I won’t try anything like this again, I swear! It was a mistake!”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before, once or twice.” Bane snorts, clasping a handcuff that was on the table over my wrist. “I promise, you won’t be trying that again after this.”

  I let my legs buckle, hoping my deadweight will make things more difficult. But, despite my best efforts to resist, he has my wrists bound above my head in seconds, and attached to the overhead chain.

  I tug against the bindings, only to confirm that it’s secure. “What are you going to do to me?” I can’t hide the fear in my voice as I eye the various blades, pliers, and other tools. How many people has he used those on?