Page 60 of Taken By Him

His brow wrinkles. “I watched her. She went to the bathroom. Was I supposed to go in there with her?” he asks, getting defensive.

I set my jaw and stare him down until he takes a step back.

Turning to the door, I knock gently at first. “Kasia. It’s me. Open the door,” I say, knocking louder when I’m met with silence.

“Kasia. If you don’t answer, I’m busting down the door,” I warn, gesturing to Tommy to get the keys from downstairs.

There’s a soft click and then the door pops open an inch. I push through into the room and shut the door behind me. The men don’t need to hear our conversation.

When Kasia looks at me, rage fills me. Her eyes are swollen and red. The tip of her nose is tinged with pink. The woman has been up here sobbing herself sick.

“What’s wrong?” I go to her, grabbing her shoulder, then checking her over. “Are you hurt? Are you sick? Tommy said you were puking.” I brush the hair that’s stuck to her cheeks away from her face. Wet tears still linger on her skin.

“I’m not sick.” She pushes my hands away.

“What happened, Kasia. What’s wrong,” I demand of her when she walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. Papers and photographs are strewn around the bed. When I get close, she leans over and wards me off with her hand.

“Don’t touch anything.” Her voice is low, angry.

I drag my hand through my hair. This isn’t disobedience or defiance. This is something else, something stronger. Something I don’t think is in her control.

“Tell me, then. What the fuck happened in that diner?” I stand in front of her, close enough to grab her, but I fold my arms over my chest, so she understands I won’t.

“What did you find out when you talked with DeGrazio?” she asks me instead of giving me any information.

“Don’t change the topic. Answer me.” I need to know where her head is at.

She laughs, but it’s joyless, empty. “No.”

“Kasia.”

“Fuck you, Dominik.” She waves a hand through the air between us. It’s a weak gesture. She’s tired. “I knew you were a monster. I should have remembered. That first night. You kidnapped that guy’s wife. I should have remembered.” She taps her temple. “But I forgot because you...because you touch me and make me forget.” There’s an accusation there beneath her words.

“Kasia, you’re making no sense.”

I glance around the room. Aside from being angry, she’s jumbling her words together. A bottle of brandy sits on her nightstand. No glass.

Leaning closer to her I can smell it. She reeks of it.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, picking up the bottle. It’s not empty, but I don’t know if she took an opened bottle or a new one.

“Not enough.” Another sob breaks through her.

I reach for one of the photographs, but she hits my hand. I give her a hard glare, one that would have had her second thinking her actions yesterday, but she’s brave now with the brandy. She holds my stare.

“You’re drunk.”

She laughs. “I wish.” She picks up the photograph I was reaching for and hands it to me. “See this? That’s my mom and my sister. They’re dead.” She drops the photograph as soon as I hold my hand out for it. “This one.” She pushes documents away and finds another one and shoves it at me. “This one shows a train car. Do you see it?” She pushes it at me, so I take it.

As soon as my eyes make contact with the photo my blood pumps harder. I can hear it in my ears.

“My father...that’s what he sells.” She flicks a finger over the photograph of women chained together being hauled into a train car. This isn’t new information to me, but obviously it is for her.

“Kasia.”

“You knew though, right? I mean, you do business with him. That’s what this marriage was about, settling some stupid territory argument?”

“Kasia, this isn’t what I do.” It’s important that she understands this. I’m no fucking saint, but buying and selling women — we don’t do that.

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