Enforcer’s Obsession

Chapter 4

FOUR

Hope

I blinked, for a moment forgetting I was in the presence of a stone-cold killer.

“What did you say?” I asked when I got my voice back.

“You heard me,” he responded, his eyes locked on mine, his expression bland but his shoulders tense.

He towered over me, his big body tense, coiled like he was ready for battle.

I had heard him, but my ears didn’t want to accept what he’d said.

He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head, his disgust clear.

“I could tell you were trouble, but I didn’t think you were stupid, too. I guess I made a mistake because you seem confused about the gravity of your current situation,” he said, his eyes and his posture demanding a response.

I didn’t give him one.

In fact, his insult passed without so much as a second thought. For a time, stupid was one of the nicer names I was called, so if he thought that would get to me, he was the stupid one.

No, I was preoccupied with that lyrical accent and by the way he spoke sharply without seeming to yell.

How messed up was it that his voice was the top of my mind when the man had threatened to incinerate me?

How much more terrifying would he be if he actually raised his voice?

That was a question I couldn’t answer, and I didn’t know if I’d want to.

After all, I shouldn’t be here.

And I definitely shouldn’t be pushing this man.

I told myself I’d remember that when he stepped away from me.

As I watched him move, I was curious as to what he was going to do. Even more, I was grateful he wasn’t paying attention to me. That gave me time to turn my initial impression over in my head.

This man was definitely dangerous.

I’d known that with just one look. After all, I’d had enough experience around dangerous men to pick one out of a crowd.

But this man was even more dangerous than he appeared on the surface. Because something told me he could blend in if he needed to.

His height and size made it impossible for him to go unnoticed, but he could flip a switch and seem…not exactly docile, but maybe not quite as dangerous as he truly was.

I knew exactly what that meant for people like me.

People like my mother had been.

No.

I almost shook my head with the force of the thought, but managed to make myself hold still.

What had happened to her wouldn’t happen to me.

I was a survivor.

I knew little else, but I knew that.

I had escaped that bastard.

This man would not be my undoing.

If I wanted to keep my word on that, I needed to get my shit together.

So I stayed quiet, pretending he hadn’t made his threat. Pretending he didn’t have the power to go through with it whenever he decided to.

No, I pushed that knowledge away and watched as he wiped his hands, then went toward a corner of the garage. At first glance, it looked to be standard, with a work bench, a tall metal cart with drawers, and a peg board attached to the walls.

The kind of thing you might see in any garage, but nothing about this man was standard.

My thought was proven when he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a rectangle of crinkled white paper.

It took me a moment, but I quickly recognized that he held paper hospital gown.

I’d worn a similar gown today when I’d tended a dog who had been wounded in a vicious dog fight, and they were standard attire for those occasions I got to assist with surgical procedures.

I was always excited when I got to wear one of those because the gown made me feel like I was getting closer to my goal of becoming a certified vet tech, and maybe, one day, a vet.

But I wasn’t excited when the man approached me with a gown his hands.

“Strip,” he spat, “and put this on.”

He looked me from head to toe, his face all the more scary because I couldn’t read his expression.

After a moment, he looked away.

At first glance, a thoughtful gesture, or thoughtful enough from the person who had thrown me into the trunk of a car and threatened to burn me.

But whether he’d meant it as a good gesture or not, I wouldn’t be taken in by it.

I also wouldn’t push him.

Not now, when I didn’t have a plan.

“You keep paper gowns in your garage?” I said, deciding to try to build a bridge.

“They come in handy,” he responded.

A nonchalant answer, but one that was revealing.

His back was to me now, though I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he wasn’t completely aware of me. Still, even knowing that, I watched as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged it off.

Before I could stop myself, I gasped, and though he didn’t acknowledge me, I knew he had heard it.

I stared at the strong, muscled planes of his back, the sculpted muscles covered in a twisted mass of gnarled, scarred skin.

I recognized the marks instantly.

Burns.

I felt something in my chest, a feeling far too much like empathy, but then quickly looked away.

The shocking sight got me moving. So, ignoring my fear—and the questions that now raced through my brain—I undressed, then grabbed the gown.

“Shoes too,” he grunted.

I was holding the gown in front of me, trying to figure out if it would fit.

I looked at the flimsy gown, then back to my own robust figure, sure that it wouldn’t. “Can you give me another one?” I asked.

He took three steps, opened the drawer, and walked back to me, his arm extended.

I stared at his hands, careful to avoid his eyes and kicking myself for undressing before I’d been sure the stupid gown would fit.

I huffed, trying to ignore the fact that I was completely naked in a freezing garage with a murderer and reached for the gown.

My fingers grazed his, and the reaction was explosive. My body tingled in an entirely different—and much more terrifying way.

There was nothing I could do about that now. So instead I focused on my current predicament.

Staring at it wouldn’t make the gown any bigger, so I did the best I could to make a dress out of one by tucking the paper under my arms to cover my breasts and pulled the other gown over my shoulders.

A sneeze, a cough, one wrong move, and the gown would be ripped to shreds, but all I could do now was hope for the best.

Hard to believe that something as ordinary as a drink with my bestie had ended up like this.

And then an even worse though struck.

“Where’s my friend?” I asked, forgetting my own problems for a moment.

I tried to be firm but knew I sounded worried and nervous, and the man didn’t miss it.

He chuckled, the sound low in his throat and brimming with menace.

“Do you think you’re in a position to ask questions?” His voice was calm, but I knew he was intimidating me.

But I also refused to cower, not when Molly’s safety was at stake.

“Where is she?” I repeated.

“If you behave yourself, I might tell you,” he finally responded, his lips ticked up in a smile that filled me with dread.

He’d turned to face me and his eyes hadn’t left mine. The moment extended, became too much, and I looked down but forced myself to look up and meet his eyes again.

“You can’t just—” I started but then cut off quickly.

He hadn’t spoken, but the way he stood, his body radiating annoyance killed my words before they could leave my mouth.

“What can’t I do, belissima?” he asked.

A simple question, but one that only underscored my situation.

The answer was plain and simple.

Undeniable.

Nothing.

There was nothing he couldn’t do.

He was in control, and I was utterly powerless.

I’d thought I understood that before, but the reality of that truth hit me again as he stared at me.

He was still bare-chested, and I couldn’t help but notice he looked completely at ease.

This was just another day’s work for him.

Not one of the most terrifying and disorienting experiences of his life.

And I would be foolish to pretend that I was anything but completely at his mercy.

I knew that, and I watched him as he waited for me to accept it.

His curt little nod told me he saw the exact moment that I did.

“Any other questions?” he said.

He was testing me.

I knew that, just as I knew he had won.

To my surprise, I didn’t feel any shame in that truth.

I was powerless.

I’d felt that feeling before, knew it as well as I knew my own name.

And I’d sworn to myself I would never feel it again.

But I was at his mercy now.

I wouldn’t stay that way.

“It’s good that we cleared that up. Now get up the stairs,” he said.

He gestured toward a door that I hadn’t even noticed.

I went toward it, then stopped when I saw the key pad and red light.

“I think it’s locked,” I said.

He gave me the code and I punched in the numbers. The light flickered green and then there was a low hiss of the locks decompressing.

Sadness and fear threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed both back.

Getting the fuck out of here was the one and only thing I needed to do, and freaking out wouldn’t make that happen.

So I’d keep my cool and play nice with this psycho until I had a chance to make my move.

After all, I’d done it before. I spent years after my mother died staying a close to my stepfather’s good side as I could get.

I could handle this.

Feeling as brave as I was able, I stepped through the doorway. A flight of stairs that led up to darkness greeted me. I didn’t linger or allow myself to think about what was inside. I just went up, turned, then went up yet another flight of stairs.

My heart was racing, but not because of the exercise. No, I knew Nico was only steps behind me, but I refused to look back.

I didn’t want to see him, and even more, knew looking back wouldn’t help me.

There was no way out.

All I could do was go forward.

So I kept my eyes ahead, taking in my surroundings as I moved.

This place—a townhouse I had determined—was beautiful.

The floors were dark hardwood, which surprised me. Nico struck me as a concrete kind of guy, but the floors had an elegance and refinement that was unexpected. I looked up toward the exposed ceiling, which was two or maybe three stories tall.

The place had the feel of an art gallery, but as I looked around, I saw the trappings of a home.

Expensive-looking furniture that looked large enough to accommodate Nico’s frame without being bulky or overwhelming the airiness of the room.

The biggest television I’d ever seen hung from a wall and, to my surprise, there was a shelf of books.

There was no art, though Nico didn’t strike me as an artsy type of guy, despite how this place looked.

It was weird, because although this was clearly a home, there was nothing personal about it. The place could be out of a magazine and in this case, that wasn’t a compliment. I was right that it was beautiful.

But it was also cold.

“Keep walking,” he said.

I looked back at him, and followed his gaze to the floating staircase at the far corner of the room.

I had never actually walked up a staircase like this. Honestly, it kind of scared me, but I walked toward it now, telling myself that the nerves were because of the situation, and not because of my tiny, tiny , totally manageable fear of heights.

I moved up the stairs quickly, not daring to look down, and then turned a corner. I wasn’t sure why, but instinct led me that way, and I decided to follow it.

I walked through the open door and looked around.

A bedroom.

His bedroom, to be exact.

It was large, took up what looked to be most of this floor, and though it was still as fancy as the rest of the place I had seen so far, it was slightly more homey.

Very slightly.

There were two watches on the metal dresser.

A pair of jogging pants haphazardly tossed on the floor, but I noticed that the bed was neatly made, and that nothing else was out of place.

“Keep going,” he said.

I screeched, then realized I had forgotten he was standing behind me.

Thoughtless.

Stupid.

My moment of fear morphed into rage at myself, but that rumination was cut short by his words.

“Go shower,” he said.

Before I could react, he was gone, the door closing with a finality that made me move.

Terror aside, a shower didn’t seem like such a bad idea, so I walked into an intimidatingly expensive-looking bathroom and stopped in front of the shower.

I stared at the knobs, trying to figure out how to work them. When the water hissed and started to flow, I felt the night’s first victory.

When I peeled the paper gown off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor, I caught my reflection in the large mirror.

Wide, shadowed eyes that looked tired. My skin looked ashen. I was never much to look at, but my blemish-free skin had always had a healthy glow, which was nowhere to be found now. I could blame the night’s events for that.

Still, despite everything that had happened today, the reflection in the mirror was just me. The same boring-looking Hope that I saw every day. The terrified girl I never wanted anyone else to see.

Nico had seen me tonight, though, and now I was in the type of danger I had no ability to truly understand.

But it didn’t matter.

I stared at the girl in the mirror and made her a promise.

A promise I fully intended to keep.

You’ll get out of this, Hope .

No matter what, you’ll survive.