Chapter 7~ A Girl’s Gotta Survive

Chapter 7

STACY

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I woke up with a throbbing headache, the kind that felt like a jackhammer was having a field day inside my skull. Squinting against the brightness of the room, I took in my surroundings, trying to piece together how the hell I ended up here.

The bed I was lying on was massive: king-sized, plush, with ridiculously soft sheets that I would have appreciated under different circumstances.

The room was elegant, far too flashy compared to the dingy places I'd been in lately.

Soft light filtered through the expensive curtains, and everything was tastefully decorated, almost too perfect.

For a moment, I wondered if I'd died and somehow ended up in a rich person's heaven.

Or hell.

I mean, for the sins I'd committed, I might as well get a five-star suite in hell. Because I sure as hell didn't remember checking into a five-star hotel anytime recently.

I sat up slowly, wincing as the room spun for a second. Rubbing my temples, I tried to recall the events leading up to this moment, but all I got was a fuzzy blur.

I remembered Vincenzo, though. Of course, I remembered him. He was burned into my brain like a bad tattoo you can't get rid of.

But where was he?

It wasn't long before I heard a sound that made me freeze. A low, angry voice. I turned my head towards the source, spotting Vincenzo across the room.

He was busy, too busy dislocating a man's jaw to notice that I was awake, and judging by what he was doing, I wasn't too eager to announce my consciousness.

Vincenzo was leaning over a man, his hands gripping the guy's jaw with a ferocity that made my stomach turn. The man's eyes were wide with terror, his body shaking as Vincenzo's fists connected with his face again and again.

"Where was it?" Vincenzo growled, his voice very low and dangerous.

"I'm sorry—" the man stammered, his own voice muffled by the blood and swelling.

Vincenzo slammed his fists onto the table beside him, making me jump. "That's not a fucking answer! Did I forget to state the rules here?" He leaned in closer. "When I ask where, you name a place, and sweet bloody hell, it better be accurate, otherwise, stitches won't fix what I'll do to that pretty face."

The man whimpered, and I could see the desperation in his eyes. He was no match for Vincenzo anyway. Even if the roles were reversed and it was Vincenzo tied to that chair, that idiot had the most intimidating blue eyes I'd ever seen.

I wondered how this guy had managed to keep his mouth from singing all the information Vincenzo needed like a parrot already. Maybe he enjoyed having those iron fists dislodge his facial bones.

Whoever he was, he'd pissed off the wrong person.

I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at how pissed my captor looked. His anger was boiling over with each passing second. I would pay a million bucks every second to see him like that.

Vincenzo took a deep breath, stood up, and towered over the man. "Now let's start over. Where the fuck is it?!"

"I swear to God—"

Vincenzo's expression darkened. "That is not a bloody place!" He took another deep breath, visibly calming himself, but there was a lethal edge to his composure. "A bottomless ditch in the middle of the woods. Now that is an answer. It's the location I'll dump your castrated body by the time I'm done with you if you don't give me a bloody answer. Now is the time I'll do it. See? It's that simple, really."

The man shook his head frantically. "I didn't see it—"

Ignoring his remark, my captor let out a smug smile. Twenty hours in his company and I knew just how dangerous that smile was. He caressed this man's cheeks softly like he'd not just pumped it with his knuckles and took a deep breath.

He said, "Let's try again."

I watched as the man struggled to form a coherent response, but it seemed his fear and the pain were robbing his vocabulary of the right words.

This was a side of Vincenzo I'd only heard rumors about. The ruthless, unyielding capo who didn't tolerate failure or lies, well, it's not like any gang leader does, anyway.

My father would have castrated this fellow by now, and when I say castrate, I mean cut his dick to tiny pieces starting from the tip with a blunt razor blade.

Seeing my captor in action was a whole different beast.

The terrifying calm in his voice, the brutal efficiency of his strong muscles, it was a reminder that I was playing with fire by even being in the same room as him.

But damn if it wasn't fascinating to watch.

It wasn't every day you got a front-row seat to a real-life interrogation, especially one that could go very, very wrong at any moment.

Whatever information Vincenzo was trying to extract, it had to be important, too important.

My headache was all but forgotten as I focused on the drama unfolding in front of me, wondering how long it would be before Vincenzo finally noticed I was awake.

I might as well enjoy the stage performance before that.

"Well, since you've chosen death, I'll be glad to oblige." Vincenzo's voice was chillingly calm as he raised his gun, aiming it squarely at the guy's head.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. Here I was, expecting a more drawn-out, dramatic finale, something worthy of a gritty crime film. But no, Vincenzo was just going to cut the show short like that.

Then again, this was a pretty bedroom with some mighty expensive rugs, so maybe he wasn't aiming for gory after all. Still, I was hoping for more.

"Miss Salvatore! Please help me!" The guy's voice cracked with desperation as he turned his pleading eyes on me.

I was too stunned to speak at first, too shocked by the sheer audacity of his plea. For a moment there, I'd thought I was invisible, an angry ghost floating in my captor's room, waiting for the moment to start tormenting him.

But this guy just blew my cover. Did he actually think I could help him?

When Vincenzo's eyes followed his victim's gaze to where I sat on the bed, I felt my throat tighten, as if I'd swallowed something unpleasant. His intense blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the room felt like it had dropped a few degrees.

"You're awake," my captor remarked, his tone flat but with an undercurrent of something darker.

I quickly recovered, forcing a shrug. "You sound disappointed." Then I scoffed, crossing my arms like I wasn't sitting in the middle of what could easily become a crime scene.

"I am."

"Well, finish up so you can explain why you drugged me and how I ended up in this cozy bed, not like I don't like it though, but still, you need my permission for these things."

The man's gasp of horror was loud enough to drag both of our gazes back to him. "Please, Miss Salvatore, don't let him kill me!"

Vincenzo grinned, a smile that was anything but friendly. "You think she can help you? She's next in line after you. The only difference is, her death will be worse than yours."

Something in the way he said it sent a cold shiver down my spine, twisting my insides into knots. But seeing all that hope in the guy's eyes, I couldn't help but regain a sliver of self-confidence.

I mean, when was the last time someone called me by my last name and actually thought it could save them? That was a novelty in itself.

So, I leaned back against the headboard and smirked. "Vincenzo, darling, let's not be so hasty. If you go around killing every idiot who pisses you off, you'll run out of entertainment far too quickly. Besides, think about the mess." I waved a hand dismissively toward the guy. "Blood on these rugs? You'll never get that out, and I don't think you're in the mood for redecorating."

Vincenzo's eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "What do you think this is?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Everything's a game, Vincenzo. The trick is figuring out the rules. Like, for instance, how about we make a deal? You let this poor bastard live a little longer, and I'll make it worth your while."

He tilted his head, clearly unimpressed. "And what exactly could you possibly offer that would make me reconsider?"

I pretended to think about it, tapping my chin. "Well, let's see… I could scream loud enough to bring in half your men, and then you'd have to explain why you're offing people in a princess suite. Or I could tell you where I stashed away every one of my father's birthday gifts since I turned six. You know, the ones that might just blow a hole through this whole pretty arrangement of ours."

Vincenzo's lips thinned into a line. "You don't have anything."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." I flashed him a grin, feeling the power shift just slightly in my favor. "But you're curious now, aren't you? And curious men tend to make better decisions when they're not cleaning brains off the walls."

The man in the chair whimpered, his eyes flicking between us like he was watching a tennis match. "Please, please–"

Vincenzo's glare darkened, shutting the man off. Meanwhile the barrel of his gun remained straight. "Let me remind you that you're my captive. You've got nothing to offer except your life, and frankly, I'm having a hard time deciding whether I should roast you in the oven or bury you alive after cutting off a few important limbs. Either way, it'd never be a fitting punishment for your crimes."

The corners of my lips twitched as I fought to keep my composure. "Those are some pretty creative ideas. You've really thought this through, haven't you? But if you wanted to get rid of me, you wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of drugging and dragging me here in the first place. And so far, I have to say, I'm enjoying this cozy bedroom a little too much to want to die just yet or watch any gore unfold." I paused, letting a smirk slip through. "Although, I wouldn't mind a decent meal and a nice bath to go with it."

Vincenzo's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he weighed my words. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to decide whether I was more useful alive or dead.

"Listen," I continued, my tone light, almost flippant. "Whatever information you're after, just give me a minute with this guy. I'll make sure he understands the implications of not spilling his guts before you decide if you still want to paint the walls with them."

There was a tense silence as Vincenzo considered my proposal. His finger twitched on the trigger, and for a moment, I thought he might just pull it. But then, with a low growl, he stepped aside, though his gun remained pointed, not just at the man's head, but now at mine as well.

"One minute," he said, his voice a lethal promise. "But don't think for a second that you're out of the fire, topo, I'm still deciding whether you'll be joining him when this is over."

"Noted," I replied with a wink, even though my pulse was hammering in my ears. I turned my attention to the man, who was now sweating bullets, his eyes darting between the gun and me.

"Alright, pal, here's the deal," I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're in a tight spot, and I'm the only one standing between you and hell's gate. So here's a little tip—tell him what he wants to know. Trust me, you don't want to test his patience. He's the type to enjoy the process if you get my drift."

The man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded frantically. "Okay, okay! I'll talk, just—please, don't let him kill me!"

"Good choice." I stepped aside and gestured toward Vincenzo. "Your audience awaits."

With a shaky breath, the man started to spill his guts. "I—I drove him to meet a certain Irishman. Clyde Cummiskey, I think his name was. It was all pre-set up, I swear, but I didn't know what they were planning. I just did what I was told!"

"A surname beginning with cum, that's hotly new."

Vincenzo's expression didn't change, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like a storm about to break. The information was clearly what he wanted, but instead of calming him down, it only seemed to make him more pissed and confused.

"Well, that was enlightening," I remarked, trying to diffuse the tension. "Now that you've got what you wanted, why don't you let him go stitch up his face? He might not be much to look at, but I'm sure he's more useful to you alive than in pieces."

Vincenzo's eyes flicked to me, and for a heartbeat, I wondered if I'd pushed him too far. But then, with a slow exhale, he lowered the gun just a fraction.

"Get out," he snapped at the man. "But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll make sure you regret it."

The man didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to escape.

Once the door slammed shut behind him, Vincenzo turned his gaze back to me, and I could see the storm brewing in those icy blue depths.

"Well, that was a rather crappy piece of info for the kind of ruckus it caused," I mumbled underneath my breath, if only to distract myself from my captor's smoldering eyes.

"You think you're clever, don't you?"

I offered him a lazy smile, even though my heart was still racing. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. But a girl's gotta survive somehow, right?"

His lips curled into a sneer, but there was something else in his eyes, something that told me I'd managed to intrigue him, if only just a little.

"Careful, little mouse," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "You might just survive long enough to regret it."