Page 8 of Cold

"Then talk."

I tugged my bottom lip out and pinched it hard. "Sergei has a lot of boys like me. A few he kept in that house, but they were gone for the night. Sometimes he loans us out to other people for parties or entertainment or..." I trailed off, not wanting to explain what else he had us doing. "I was the only one that was left behind."

So I could entertain him for the night.

Everyone else had been put into limos and shipped off to bring him in more money. But not me. It was rare that I left with the others, unless he wanted me to get info out of someone. Or kill them. But tonight hadn't been one of those times and I'd spent the duration of the evening playing his games.

"Damn it," Vito said as he pulled out his phone. "Are there others outside of the house?"

I nodded. "Plenty, but I don't know where he keeps them."

It was only partly a lie. Sergei had other houses from Atlanta to California, to Florida and Russia. He always needed more. And he got whatever he wanted. I'd been to every house he owned, but I was never allowed to know where I was going. Normally, he put me to sleep first and when I awoke I was in a new location for a few months. The only way I knew where I'd been taken was by listening to the hushed conversations around me.

Vito finished up his text and turned back to the counter. He was quiet as he finished making my sandwich. When he sat it in front of me, I reached for it but jolted. His fingers went into my still damp hair and his nails scratched across my scalp.

"Good. Thank you for telling me," he said, the words capped with a grunt as if it took effort for him to say them. "Finish eating."

I gazed up at Vito's hand in my hair and my chest ached. He'd called me good. My heart sped up and I had to suck in a deep breath before I could think straight again.

Vito's hand drifted away and I felt the same pang as when he let go of my hand when we reached his car. I felt...empty. That made no sense, but it was the only word I could think of to describe the void in my chest.

I watched him go and grabbed Mr. Whiskers from where he'd been sitting on my lap. He wasn't gone long. In fact, he came back, made himself some food and then sat down across from me. But Vito had gone quiet. Whatever interrogation he had planned for me, it seemed as if it was postponed for now. I thanked everything that it was because my head couldn't take it right now.

Once I finished my second sandwich and another glass of coke, I rubbed a hand over my belly. It poked out now and I knew I'd overstuffed myself, but I didn't care. Eventually, I would go back to the way things always were with Sergei and I wanted to enjoy a break. Even if it was temporary.

"Finished?" Vito asked.

I nodded. "Yes, I am. Thank you. It was really good."

Vito gazed at me and gave a single nod before he collected up our plates. He deposited them into the sink and turned back to me.

"It's time for bed. I'll show you to your room. Wash your hands first."

I snatched up Mr. Whiskers and climbed out of my seat. The cool floor greeted my bare feet as I padded over to the sink and washed my hands. I snagged a towel that was lying on the counter and dried myself off before I turned and Vito began walking. I had to add a little extra pep to my step to keep up with his long, even strides.

"Here," he said as he opened a door. "You'll be staying here until Amadeo figures out something else," he said.

I frowned. "Something else? So, I'll be leaving?"

"Why does it matter?" Vito asked.

I swallowed hard as I looked at him and shook my head. He was right, it didn't matter. My job was to steal information, kill this man, and take out Amadeo as well if I could. Eventually I would be gone and they would be in the dirt.

Any fleeting thoughts of how well I was being treated evaporated on the spot. I stepped past Vito and looked around the room. Like the rest of the apartment, it was pretty sparse. There was a queen bed, a dresser, a TV mounted on the wall and a chair in the corner. Two other doors were on the left side of the room. I opened the first and found an empty closet. Through the second there was a small bathroom with a single white towel hanging over the bar and an empty glass on the counter.

"You have plenty in here for the night so don't call me," he said as he gripped the doorknob. "I'll be up early, I always am. And then you can come out and eat breakfast."

I turned back to him and nodded. "Okay," I whispered, slipping back into that soft, sweet persona. "Thank you."

Vito nodded and walked away. I sat on the bed until he closed the door and set Mr. Whiskers on a pillow at the top of the bed. As the minutes ticked by, I waited. There was the sound of his door closing, and when it didn't open again, I stood up and tiptoed forward. Get the information, kill Vito.

My heart pounded in my chest, but I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down. When I opened them again, it was as if I was never nervous to begin with. I had a job to do. My hand wrapped around the knob and I turned it gently, praying it wouldn't make a single squeak. It turned and then stopped.

I jiggled the doorknob and frowned as it refused to respond. Shit! He locked me in. It had happened so quickly and smoothly that I didn't even realize.

That's what happens when you're not on your game.

I told myself to get my shit together as I walked back over to the bed and plopped down. There was a window, but we were fourteen stories up. I had no choice but to go to bed and bide my time.

Vito would make a mistake. And I would be there to pounce on him.

I climbed underneath the blanket and tugged it over my head. The light being on brought me comfort, I didn't want to be in the dark tonight. I squeezed my eyes shut and hugged Mr. Whiskers. Yawning, I tried to think of different ways that I could kill Vito and wouldn't be looked at as the suspect by Amadeo.

But my sleepy mind drifted back to the kitchen and that warm hand in my hair.

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