Page 2 of The Red Queen

She suspected he was in his fifties, though she wasn’t sure.

Then it hit her. Shedidrecognize him. Of course she did. How could she have not known the Godfather of Italy was staying with Mateo? Bent on her plans of vengeance, her tunnel vision had caused her to ignore the identity of their guest.

A stupid mistake.

A shiver of fear snaked its way down her spine.

“I know you,” she croaked.

Was he here to torture her some more before Mateo came in to finish her? Or maybe the Italian would be the one to put a bullet in her head. She knew Mateo hated killing women.

She eyed a water bottle on the table behind him, licking her lips, thirst beating at her. Was that another torture method courtesy of the sadistic Mateo?

“Who am I?” He pulled a key from his pocket and knelt next to her left side.

“Giovanni Savino, head of the Italian Savino crime family.”

He didn’t answer, but she knew she was correct. Everyone in the underworld knew of him.

She jolted when he unlocked her wrist, then jerked it into her lap, wiggling feeling back into her hand.

He watched her with a closed expression. The slight tightening of his muscles told her he was preparing for an attack if she launched one. She didn’t. She was in too much pain, and he was ready for anything she might throw at him.

He walked to her other side and knelt next to her. “This is going to hurt.”

She had to bite down hard on her lip as he fussed with the handcuffs. Every tiny jolt sent a wave of pain radiating from her finger… what was left of her finger… into her hand and spiking through the rest of her body. She wanted to scream at him to hurry, but the sane part of her mind realized he was helping her. At least temporarily. She didn’t know what his end game was, but it could only be to her advantage to have her hands freed. Even missing her finger, she could still kill a man.

She tried to lift her hand and place it in her lap, but the pain was too much. She wanted to scream obscenities at the world. After she’d endured a lifetime of pain, why couldn’t she manage a severed piece of flesh?

“Here.” His voice had a hard edge, but she sensed regret beneath it.

What did he have to regret? He hadn’t mangled her hand, Mateo Gutierrez had. Besides, she was certain she would be dead shortly. At that point, losing a finger would no longer matter.

Giovanni wrapped his fingers around her wrist, then put his other hand on her elbow, helping her bend the arm, then gently placing it on her lap. A whimper escaped her lips, and she bit down hard to stop any more from leaking out.

She was tougher than this. She could withstand any amount of torture with her dignity intact.

“Why are you helping me?” She switched to Spanish. It was too difficult to manage English translation while she was in such pain.

He stood to his full height, well over six feet, towering next to her. He touched her face and then used his thumb to tilt her chin until she was looking at him.

She wanted to fight him, to escape through the open door behind him, but in her condition, he would likely capture her in a matter of seconds. She remained still in his grip, allowing the gentle touch of his finger as it caressed her cheek.

“I’ve made a deal for you,” he told her, switching to Spanish as well. He spoke well, with a slight accent. “You are to become my pet project.”

“What do you mean ’pet’?” she asked in disgust. “I am no one’s pet.”

“Nonetheless, you will be caged and leashed.”

“For what reason?” she demanded.

“For my pleasure.”

“Slave,” she said flatly.

“If that is what you wish to call it.”

“You’ll never break me,” she snarled, jerking her face from his hold.

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